Dean stopped outside old housing project to check the address again. Silverfemme estate was not exactly where he expected to find himself. The high rise of concrete and steel had been part of an inner city housing initiative from decades past. Back then the apartments were an affordable option for the lower-middle class.
He took a deep breath and looked at the faded and cracked paint that was falling off the concrete facade. It didn't seem like anyone living inside was able to throw much money around. He had been hoping to find a brand new high rise apartment or a seaside mansion.
"It's an indie production company that like to keep the overhead low," he told himself.
Then he made his way inside.
A dozen femme where on their way out of the lobby as he approached the entrance. They all bore a family resemblance. He moved to one side and waited for them to pass. Eyes moved up and down his body as three generations of femme walked past and chatted loudly but not a single male was among them. They were the stereotypical welfare queens that he had always hated. The government would give support to unemployed femme that exceeded the average wage of a male. It was likely that none of the femme in that family had ever worked a job in their lives. Why would they? Of course, a male child would not yield the same benefits as a femme, so male children would typically be exiled into a poorer district to be raised by their farther.
The elevator stopped on the 18th floor with an unceremonious beep. The doors to the top floor opened, Dean paused for a moment before stepping into the hallway. He was 10 minutes early so he took his time walking over the cracked tiles.
His stomach stirred with nerves. He knew that he had no choice. Taking a deep breath he stared at the plaque on the door. It read, '1810 - Silverfemme towers'
He knocked on the door twice. Moments later, a muscular boy in his late twenties opened the door. The boy had a chiselled jaw and deep dark eyes. He wore Chloe Goldfemme hotpants and a tight shirt. His hairless legs were very well developed and his arms lean and strong. Dean immediately felt intimidated by him.
"Er... hi. I'm Dean. I have a four o'clock audition," he said haltingly.
The host looked Dean up and down then motioned with his head, "First door on the left."
Dean wore leggings, his favourite shoes and a long sleeve shirt. When he opened the door, two boys looked up at him. After noting that it was just another competitor, they paid him no mind and returned to their phones. One sat on the edge of the bed and the other had turned the study chair to face the door. Dean felt a lump in his throat when he noticed that neither boy was wearing a shirt. One wore hotpants while the other wore nothing but a tight elastic pouch encasing his genitals.
Dean felt over-dressed.
"The ladies are running behind schedule. Make yourself comfortable. There's refreshments on the table," said the host.
He closed the door behind Dean.
Despite being a guest bedroom, it was still bigger than the living room at Melody's place. The curtains on the back wall were partially drawn to reveal the disappointing view of an identical high rise apartment next door. Dean sat on the other side of the bed.
His nerves began to build. Taking a deep breath, he poured himself a glass of water and almost spilled some on the table when the door opened suddenly. It was the host again.
He looked down at his pad before he spoke, "Henry, you're up."
The boy in the pouch picked up his bag and rose to his feet. A full glass of water was sitting on the desk next him, he downed it in moments. As he turned away he revealed that he wore nothing but a g-string. Dean looked away in shock. The boy was gone.
--
Aaliyah Lockwood starred at the boyish bubble butt as it disappeared behind the elastic hotpants. The material stretched to envelop the youthful masculine assets, unimpeded by even the slightest trace of unsightly body hair. A pristine pink sphincter and plump balls were paraded before her as a final plea for her consideration before disappearing behind the thin curtain. It was a delicious sight; the boy wouldn't have been invited to audition if he didn't have something to offer. He faced away from her and kept his knees straight, bending only from the waist as he slid the hot pants back on. It was a sign of desperation that she always loved to see in a boy. But his ass was a little flabby and there was a notable absence of nicely formed abdominals.
Twenty years ago she never would have imagined that such a beautiful sight could ever become subpar. Growing up in Riyadh, naked boys were a novelty reserved only for solitary nights on the internet.
Sure, Saudi Arabia was a member of the UN and had made tremendous strides towards feminine rights since the genetic revolution. But the vestiges of patriarchy were much stronger there. They had more males still in political power than America did. This filled the heads of her early boyfriends with all kinds of outmoded delusions of equality.
The boys back home always seemed a bit frigid. In her early twenties, it had taken her three full months to convince her first boyfriend to give up his virginity to her. She couldn't understand why he wanted to wait until marriage before giving it up. But things became clearer when she found out how tiny his cock was. Suffice it to say that he didn't last very long after that. Many males back home would use their sexuality as tool for control and power; only putting out after a lady had committed her life to them.
That wouldn't be such an issue if she wasn't expected to remain faithful to one man. But in traditional marriage she would be required to remain faithful to him. Even pornography was frowned upon for a married femme.
By the time that she was 40, Aaliyah was still unmarried. Her mother was pressuring her for grandchildren, constantly trying to set her up with the son of one of her colleagues or even the grandson of her boss. The boys were all young and some of them were reasonably pretty, but she could never see herself staying with one man. She was too accustomed to the constant availability of exceptional cock on her phone. Every night she would pretend to fuck dozens of boys from around the world. It was bliss.
She believed that variety was the spice of life but the consequences for a femme's infidelity could be harsh. Divorce laws back home meant that she could loose half of all her possessions if she was caught cheating. Yet another old law from patriarchal times that favoured the male. Coming from a lower-class family, marriage was not a risk that Aaliyah was willing to take.
Since she was a teenager, she longed for the stereotypical sweet submissive American boy that she saw in movies and pornography. Those boys new how to treat a lady, and in America they couldn't just divorce her and take half of everything if they caught her enjoying herself with another boy.
No, she knew that only American boys would do. They seemed to always love strong femme and be ready for a good long riding. They weren't arrogant and opinionated like those back home. They all seemed so quiet and demure, respectful and submissive to femme.
And sweet Goddess did they know how to dress. Tight leggings that revealed their bulge and tight mid-drift shirts to show off their abs; it was enough to make any red-blooded femme wet.
Their beautiful blue eyes would stare up at you lovingly as they lap up your cum eagerly. They would never protest when you take them across your lap to teach them the new and proper way of things. Their pale bubble butts would stay nice and still as they were marked by your firm correction. They would count each stroke out loud as your paddle slapped the round firm flesh. As you marked them with your will, they would stick their butts out to honour each demonstration of your supremacy. And when it was all over they would thank you for it and beg to make it up to you with some oral sex; even if they hadn't done anything wrong. No, they wouldn't give you oral, they would worship your pussy, begging for you to cover them in your cum.
And if you wanted to enjoy their cock, all it would take was a couple of firm slaps to get them desperately hard and ready to be taken. Their big submissive dicks would be begging you to ride them until you cum all over them again. American penis always seemed to be there for your pleasure. They could fuck for hours without cumming. At least that's what they seemed like in porn.
When Aaliyah moved to America she left everything behind to start a new life. She changed her family name to match the screenname that she had been using for years: Lady Lockwood. She dreamt of finding an American husband and some boy toys on the side. It was a difficult transition for her career but nothing else mattered as long as there were hot blue eyed boys within her grasp. Back home her prospects were drying up because of her age, but she had read that American boys weren't so prejudiced against older femme. Especially older femme with money. She might have been poor by middle-eastern standards, but in America, that made her fairly comfortable.
