Date: Tue, 24 Mar 2009 16:21:16 -0500
From: Amber Fountaine <amber_fountaine@hotmail.com>
Subject: Ben's Booty Boy

Amber Fountaine stories contain sexually explicit descriptions of
consensual sexual activity and are not suitable for reading by anyone under
the age of 18, or anyone offended by reading such material. These acts
include gay and bisexual activity as well as any combination of piss play,
diapers, cross-dressing and other fetishes and perversions that may please
the author's whims. The characters in these stories are fictional, but are
mostly based on the author's true experiences, as well as the experiences
of others he has met. Every attempt to conceal these identities has been
made. These stories are placed in Nifty for the enjoyment of its readers
and are not to be copied and/or distributed without the approval of the
author.

This story is part of the "Wet Panties" series that begins with, "Wet
Panties" (Bisexual, Urination, 10/8/08), and continues in, "The Mall" (TG,
Teen, 1/6/09), and "Ledge Falls Park, (TG, Teen, 3/xx/09). This story is
about Kyle's dad, Peter Barton, a teen in the seventies and his early
adulthood in the eighties. It is not necessary to read any of the other
three sections to understand what Peter goes through discovering and
accepting his bisexuality. Those other stories in the series are the
ongoing similar journey of a younger generation. The point is, whether
you're sixteen, sixty-six, or older, at some time, usually in your teens,
you had the first indications that you had a sexual interest in both sexes,
and eventually you had to deal with those feelings. I wouldn't be at all
surprised to find out that many of you readers have gone through very
similar circumstances.


					Ben's Booty Boy
				    by Amber Fountaine
					 Chapter One

	He held the monster in his hand, as he'd done a couple of times
before. Each time he'd marveled at its size, but never more than this time,
with it just inches from his face. He glanced over at Martha one last time
as if hoping for a reprieve. However she just smiled and nodded. That
shouldn't have surprised him. She'd been instrumental in his being in this
situation. He'd known from the moment he'd walked in the house and found
the two of them sitting together on the couch that this was the day. If he
didn't want to do it, he could have run out then and come back later. If he
didn't want to do it, he could have refused to change clothes. Instead,
he'd changed without being told and had come back to join them. So he
wasn't fooling anyone, including himself, when he acted like he didn't want
to do this.
	His mom had a favorite saying about smart people making lemonade
when life gives them lemons. He knew that what she meant was making the
best of a bad situation. The situation here wasn't all that bad, but he
couldn't help but think of that saying because the head of the cock aimed
at his mouth was about the size of a lemon. But instead of lemon yellow, it
was that grayish purple color that can only be found on the head of a very
hard cock.
      As he closed his lips over it for the first time, surprised it would
fit in his mouth, he decided that it tasted better than any lemonade he'd
ever had. Yet for some reason, he wasn't about to let them know he was
enjoying it that much. He spit it out and made a face, but he didn't think
they'd buy it. He glanced around to see they were smiling at his antics. So
much for that idea. If they weren't going to buy it, then why pretend.
	With that decision made, he went after that pleasure pole with
gusto, licking its magnificent length, top, bottom and both sides, and
taking a side trip to spend some time on the wrinkled sack containing the
two egg-shaped and nearly egg sized sperm makers. While there wasn't much
difference in the sparse amount of pubic hair between the two boys, he
marveled again at the considerable inequality in every other aspect of
their genitals.
      That was a subject that had been on him mind a lot lately, after he'd
accidentally caught Martha playing with her boyfriend's cock in the guy's
car a few weeks earlier. Up to that point he'd never given much thought to
the sizes of the other boy's cocks when they were hard. Until that night,
the only other one he'd seen stiff was about the same as his.


	To that point in Peter Barton's life, like every other young teen,
he'd noticed the genital growth of the other boys in gym class. But other
than his own and Warren's, he'd never seen one fully erect. He had to
expect, since there was so much difference in all the boys when soft, that
there would also be a difference in hard pricks as well. But it wasn't
something that had piqued his curiosity to the point where he wanted to
investigate it like it was some science project. Besides, guys weren't
supposed to be interested in the genitals of other guys - especially when
they were hard. He and Warren worked hard at acting like they weren't
aroused by watching each other masturbate.
      Then had come the evening when he'd been over at Warren's house and
had stayed for supper - and a little more. When he rode his bike home he'd
seen the car in front of the house and as he got closer, he was sure his
sister was making out with a guy. Since they had the windows down, he'd
decided to surprise them. He knew it would probably piss his sister off but
she was pissed off at him most of the time any way. Besides, it kind of
irked him that she was allowed to date and she was a year younger.
	"You could date too," she'd teased him, "If you could find some
girl desperate enough to go out with you."
	"If I had a car, I'd have no problem getting all the dates I
wanted," he'd retort. But he knew deep inside that it wasn't just the lack
of a car that kept him from dating.
	He liked girls - a lot! In fact, he liked a lot of girls a lot. But
they didn't feel the same way about him and being constantly bullied and
badgered by the other boys, and getting a reputation for being a sissy, had
made him even shyer around girls than he already was. It didn't help to
have a name like "Peter" either. It was a toss-up as to who got the most
teasing, him or Dicky Arnet. The big difference was that the guys that
teased Dicky, calling him "Dick-head" were friends and were joking
around. The ones that called Pete things like "Peter-eater" were taunting
him, hoping they could get him to fight - a loosing situation for Pete. And
it wasn't like he had to wait another year until he was sixteen to get his
license before he could ask a girl out. His mother had offered to drive him
if he wanted to ask a girl out on a date.
	Like I'd really do that, he'd thought without saying it. Instead
he'd thanked his mom for her offer and had gone to his room, his sanctuary,
his way of shutting out the outside world where he could enjoy the only
exciting thing in his life, masturbation. Next year was the 1976 Summer
Olympics in Montreal, Canada. It was also the United States
Bi-Centennial. It seemed to Pete that every person he knew had some sort of
great plan for the following summer. It was well over three months until
the New Year, the fall semester of his sophomore year of high school just
started, and already it seemed the entire northern continent was ready to
celebrate something. All Pete had planned was being sixteen instead of
fifteen. Some plan. But he'd been certain of one thing as he'd stroked his
cock again that day. If masturbation were to become an Olympic event, he'd
been sure he'd get a gold medal.
	As Pete rolled up behind the parked car, and then slowly pulled
alongside to the driver's window, he wasn't thinking about masturbation
even though he and his buddy Warren had just done it together, twice,
watching each other pump out a load. They'd done that so often in the last
year that it almost wasn't exciting any more. Actually, all he'd been
thinking about was whether he should holler, "Boo," or "Caught ya," when he
got even with the driver's window.
	Then two things happened that changed his life. First, just as he
got even with the window, his dad turned on the porch light, Martha's
signal to come inside. And the light was bright enough, even at that
distance, that Pete could see that Martha had her hand wrapped around the
boy's prick and was playing with it, giving him a hand job.
	"Hurry up, I'm almost there," Pete heard the boy say, and watched
as his sister's hand flew up and down the huge cock. Pete was astonished
and couldn't speak if spoken to. His prick and Warren's together wouldn't
make one like Martha was holding. She couldn't even get her hand around
it. She'd pump really hard and fast a dozen or so times, then stop and do
it slowly once or twice, exactly like he did when he jacked off. Warren's
method was different. Had he not been so stunned, he might have wondered
how Martha had learned to jack a cock exactly like he jacked his. But he
was so mesmerized by the sight of the huge organ that his thoughts were of
what might happen when that thing exploded.
      This new boyfriend's car had bucket seats so Martha had to lean over
from her side of the car, her head on the boy's chest as he leaned back in
his seat. As an experienced jacker, experienced in the way cum would spurt
out at that magic moment, he knew Martha's face was right in the line of
fire and almost shouted out a word of caution when the boy said, "Here it
comes."
      By then, it was too late. Volley after volley of jism spewed from the
huge, swollen cockhead, two of them splattering Martha's face before she
covered the head of his prick with her hand. It was an incredible sight,
one that made Pete hard instantly and then it got even more incredible. The
boy had his head back and his eyes closed and never knew that Pete was
right outside his car window. With her head down below the window level,
watching what she was doing with the big stiff dick, Martha had never seen
him either. Then when the boy's cum began shooting everywhere, splattering
across her face, she'd closed her eyes and still had them closed as she
raised her head. What stunned Pete to the point he thought his heart would
stop was that Martha began licking her lips and the hand that was covered
with the boys cum, obviously enjoying the taste - like it was something
she'd done a lot!
      Then she told the boy, "That was great. I hope my folks don't smell
cum on me. Next time I want to suck it."
      Pete stood there, knowing he should slip away while he could, but
unable to move. His sister, his LITTLE sister, had just jacked off the
biggest cock that Pete could imagine and was promising that the next time
they went out, she would suck it.
      "PETE!" she screamed when she realized he was little more than two
foot away. "What are you doing?"
      "Uh, nothing." He couldn't bring himself to admit he'd watched the
whole thing. Well maybe not the whole thing, but at least the most
important parts.
      "You ASSHOLE!"
      Since it wasn't a question, Pete felt no need to respond. She called
him names like that all the time.
      But by that time, the boy had come back down to earth and realized
they'd had a witness. Before Pete could even think to respond, the boy
reached out and grabbed the front of Pete's shirt and pulled him toward the
window so hard and fast that Pete busted his lip on the rain gutter along
the roof and almost knocked a tooth loose. Then he pushed Pete away with
enough strength that Pete and his bicycle went sprawling across the
pavement. The boy got out of his car, grabbed the front of his shirt again
and pulled Pete to his feet and into his face.
      "Let me tell you something sissy boy. If I hear you've said one word
about what just happened here, I'll knock the living shit out of you and
keep knocking the living shit out of you every time I see you. Is that
clear?"
      When Pete didn't answer fast enough to suit him, he backhanded Pete
hard enough to make his ears ring. "Answer me! Is that clear?"
      "Ben, stop," he heard his sister say. "He's not going to say
anything. If he does, I'll tell my folks he's been taking my underwear in
his room and jacking off with them."
      Pete stood there in a daze, starring at the three porch lights where
they'd always been only one. That was as confusing as the other lights that
seemed to be circling before his eyes. Then he felt his sister beside him
and heard her tell the boy, "Go on home. I'll be okay. I'll help him inside
and tell my folks he wrecked his bike. He's not going to say anything. Call
me tomorrow."
      Pete was half way to the house before he realized that the car had
driven off and that Martha was leading him toward the front porch. "I'll
get you to the door," she told him. "You ring the bell while I go get your
bike out of the street."
      It was a great ploy. When their dad answered the door, wondering why
Martha didn't just walk in, and saw the condition Pete was in, the
household had gone into a panic and Martha was able to get inside and to
the bathroom and wash her face and hands before facing her parents. As a
good measure, she'd sprayed a bit of perfume on her and then stood to one
side as her folks chastised Pete for riding his bike after dark and made
arrangements to get him to the emergency room to get his lip sewn up.
      Pete knew better than to tell his parents what had really
happened. If Martha denied it, he knew they'd believe her and not him and
she certainly wasn't going to confess that she'd been playing with a boy's
cock and had offered to suck it if he took her out again. They'd sympathize
with her and ground him for making up the story. And that was if he lived
long enough to be grounded after Martha's new boyfriend got done with
him. Pete wasn't a big kid to begin with and there wasn't a part of this
guy Ben that wasn't twice as big as Pete or more. There was one part that
Pete was sure had to be four times as big.
      "You're bull shittin' right?" Warren told him when he gave Warren a
description of what had happened and had described the boy's giant cock.
      "Really. Honest. It was that fuckin' big. The head was like as big as
my fist and the shaft had to be as big as my arm."
      "Yeah, you're bull shitting me. Nobody has a dick that big."
      Pete started to tell Warren to ask his sister and thought better of
it. He'd spoken briefly with his sister the following day and had promised
he wasn't going to say anything to his folks. His sister hadn't thought to
make him promise not to say anything to anyone besides his folks and he had
to tell someone. The only one he felt safe talking to about the size of
another guys cock was the guy who he jacked off with all the time. Then
just to show that Pete wasn't nearly as smart as the school IQ tests had
indicated, and that he hadn't learned a thing from getting his ass kicked
for sneaking up and watching his sister and her boyfriend, he suggested,
"I'm not bull shitting. Maybe we can figure a way to watch when she blows
him."
      As far as discussing the incident with Martha, he had no desire to do
that at all. But she did. She loved to tease him and had for years,
beginning before either of them were in school, with his still being in
diapers at night after she had been out of them completely. When he'd been
in the first grade, no one knew he still wet the bed and was in diapers
every night. But in the second grade, with Martha now in first, she made
sure everyone on the school yard knew. The next incident had occurred when
he'd been twelve and they'd taken a vacation and he hadn't packed his
underwear, thinking his mom had done it. The next morning he'd had to wear
a pair of his sister's panties until his mom could find a store where they
could stop and buy him a package of new boy's jockey shorts. "It's just for
today," his mom had assured him. When their route didn't pass any shopping
malls and his dad hadn't wanted to wander around looking for on, his mom
had tried to convince him that it wouldn't hurt for him to wear some of
Martha's panties for one more day, promising that if they didn't see a
shopping mall on the second day that she'd hand wash the one's he'd had on
when they left home and he could wear them the following day and by then
they'd be to their Grandparent's house and she could run into town and do
some shopping there.
      So while he'd only worn panties for the first two days out of a two
week vacation, by the time Martha got done telling the story to everyone
that would listen, it sounded like Pete had decided, entirely on his own,
to spend the whole vacation trip prancing around in her panties. What she
hadn't taken into consideration was that Pete was now approaching puberty
and was discovering, with the help of a school mate, the joys of playing
with his prick.
      Pete had no way of knowing how many times he'd heard Martha call him
a panty wearing sissy before what he later considered his "Great Day of
Inspiration." Nor was he sure how many dozens of times he'd jacked off
between the time he'd learned how to beat his meat and "GDI" either. But as
fate would have it, there came that day, when right after she'd teased him
about being a sissy that liked to wear panties, and he was planning on
spending a pleasant afternoon with his cock in his hand, that he found a
pair of her panties in the bathroom.
      His first reaction as he'd approached the toilet and had seen them
lying on the floor had been to kick them out of the way with his toe. But
the phrase, "Panty wearing sissy," was fresh on his mind. So after taking a
piss, he'd picked up the panties and brought them back to his room with
him.
      These panties were different. In his mom's defense, the little girl
panties she'd had him wear a couple of years earlier had really been pretty
much similar to his. The waistband hadn't been as heavy and there hadn't
been the little pocket flap thing, but other than that, they'd been white
and cotton and probably would have passed for his own from a distance. But
not the ones he'd found in the bathroom. His little sister's taste in
lingerie had been changing. These weren't the racy things he'd seen in
pictures in men's magazines he shared with his buddy Warren. But they
weren't white cotton either. They were nylon and lacy around the edges and
a bright pink color. More important, it appeared his sister had been
keeping pace with his own physical growth and that they might very well fit
him. There was only one way to find out.
      The only thing that hadn't seemed to fit was the erection that had
poked out over the top. But by pushing his stiff prick to one side, he'd
been able to get it covered up inside the nylon material and he'd admired
his new look in the mirror over his dresser.
	Then he could wait no longer. Pushing down the front of the
panties, he'd taken his rigid little dick in hand and had brought himself
to a ball draining climax, the best he'd ever had. It was at that moment
that a true panty wearing sissy had been born.
      For Pete, that had been a new pleasure that he'd wanted to repeat
more often. But he couldn't rely on finding a pair of Martha's panties
every time the urge hit him. Besides, he'd wanted to show Warren and that
had meant wearing them to Warren's house or waiting until Martha was gone
somewhere so that they could jack off together in Pete's room. And if he'd
kept them that long there'd been a chance that Martha would have missed
them. So he'd gotten another inspiration, on that `Great Day of
Inspiration.' He'd get Martha to give him a pair and he'd been sure he knew
a ploy that would work.
      Martha was most apt to tease him when she had one of her friends
around and he didn't disappear fast enough to suit her. It had been close
to two weeks after formulating his idea before that situation had
occurred. Her friend Laura came over and Pete had hung around, talking to
Laura and making Martha upset.
      "She came over to see me, panty boy," Martha had taunted.
      Laura had heard Martha call him that before and expected Pete to
retort by calling her a bitch and leaving. Both girls were surprised when
Pete had sat down instead of running off and told her, "Bull shit. You
don't know what you're talking about."
      "I'm talking about you being a sissy boy that wears panties!"
      "Really? I don't think so. I don't own any panties. I'm wearing boy's
jockey shorts. Wanna see?"
      Laura had laughed and that had incensed Martha even more. "You would
if you had some. You're just a sissy."
      "Well I don't have any so that's the end of that."
      Martha had been too infuriated to think straight and Pete had wanted
to run across the room and kiss Laura when she'd suggested, "Give him a
pair of your panties and let's see if he'll put them on."
      Martha had jumped at that idea, trying to regain the upper hand and
taunted, "Okay panty boy. Which color would you like to wear today?"
      Smugly, acting as if he'd been sure she wouldn't do it, he'd told
her, "Mmm, pink is a nice sissy color. Do you have any that are pink?" He
was hoping he'd get that same pair that he'd worn on the, "Great Day of
Inspiration."
      "I sure do smart ass," Martha had told him, storming out of the den.
      Pete and Laura had sat silent for a moment and then she'd said, "I
think she's really gonna do it. What are you going to do then?"
      Pete had looked at her, feigning surprise. "You think so? She's full
of so much shit." Then he'd chuckled. "But I guess if she gives me a pair
of panties, I'll have to go put them on. Maybe I shouldn't have teased
her. I don't know if her stuff will even fit me."
      Laura was about to comment when Martha had returned and thrown a pair
of pink panties in Pete's face. "There you go panty boy. Let's see you wear
them."
      Pete had fought hard not to laugh. It was all backwards and Martha
didn't see it. If he'd refused to put on the panties, that would indicate
he wasn't a panty boy. He'd headed to his room and heard Martha holler as
he'd walked away, "You better put them on or I'll tell mom you stole them
from me."
      Perfect, he'd thought as he'd changed into the panties. These were
even nicer than the ones he'd used the other day and he had Laura as a
witness that he'd had to put them on to keep Martha from making up a story
about him. With the panties in place, Pete had made a quick trip to the den
and back, too embarrassed by the obvious bulge of an erection to linger in
front of the younger girls. Then he'd put on his cut-off jean shorts and
headed to Warren's house.
      "What do you think?" he'd asked his buddy as he modeled the sexy pink
panties.
      "Cool. Your sister really gave those to you?"
      Pete had told him the whole story and they'd shared a laugh over Pete
finally getting one up on his sister. Warren was aware of how seldom that
happened.
      "You gonna keep them" Warren had wanted to know.
      "Sure. Why not? She probably wouldn't want them back after I've worn
them."
      "We gonna jack off?"
      Pete had smiled. "I was hoping."
      "Cool," Warren had answered, blushing slightly as he'd stepped out of
his underwear to reveal that he'd been more than ready
      Several minutes later, their immediate needs met, Warren had asked,
"Do you ever worry about maybe it's wrong that we do this together?"
      "Maybe it was when our folks were our age. But now days . . . shit
man, it's the seventies. I guess you can do just about anything you want
and it's okay as long as it don't hurt anyone else."
      "Yeah, I suppose so." They'd been lying on Warren's bed, still
playing with their wilted pricks, starring at the ceiling and
thinking. Warren had gone on with what was on his mind. "Do you know what
bisexual is?"
      "Yeah. That's were you get to have sex with both sexes."
      Warren had caught where Pete had said `get' like it was a privilege;
like you `get' to stay up late. "Do you think that's a good thing?"
      "I suppose. You'd get to have twice as much sex."
      "Yeah. But some of the guys at school act like its bad."
      "Some of the guys at school wouldn't do what we're doing. Who do you
suppose is having more fun? Us or them?" It was a good argument but Pete
hadn't been sure if he'd been trying to convince Warren or himself.
      "Us," Warren had said, almost giggling. "For sure. Have you ever
watched the way Trevor showers in gym? It's like he's afraid to touch his
dick for fear it'll bite him. I'll bet he's never jacked off at all."
      Pete hadn't been surprised to hear that Warren had been paying
attention to the other boys in gym and how much time each of them spent
washing their cocks. They'd admitted they both liked to check out the other
guy's pricks. "Probably not," Pete had answered. "Trevor can be a real
dweeb at times."
      "What's the opposite of bisexual? That's what Trevor must be - where
he isn't sexual at all."
      There'd been a long pause before Warren had said, "I think when I get
older I want to be bisexual."
      "How much older," Pete had asked before he realized how that might
sound.
      "Don't know. But I definitely want to try sex with a girl first."
      "That's cool."
      "But if it takes too long to find a girl, I might go for a guy that's
dressed as a girl."
      Pete had caught the implication and had looked over. Seeing that
Warren was grinning, he'd elbowed him and said, "Asshole. Just because I'm
wearing panties doesn't mean I want to dress as a girl."
      "Sure," Warren had told him, trying to keep a straight face. After
minute or two he'd asked, "Are you going to ask her for a bra to go with
the panties?"
      That had been all Pete could take. "Fuck you. I'm going home."
      "Yeah, it's getting late," Warren had commented as his friend
dressed. It wasn't even dark yet, but he added, teasing his friend, "You
better get home and get in your nightie and get ready for bed."
      "You're just full of funny shit today aren't you?" Pete had
taunted. Warren had gotten up, still naked, and had been standing near
him. In exasperation, short of something smart to say, Pete had reached
out, grabbed Warren's cock, and had squeezed it hard. "I'll bet if I
squeeze this thing off you won't think it's so fucking funny."
      "How about you just squeeze it," Warren had answered, smiling, "And
jack me off." As he said it, he hunched his hips, making his prick slide
back and forth in Pete's hand.
      When he'd realized what was happening, Pete had dropped his hand away
like he'd touched a hot stove. He'd never given any thought to what he was
doing when he'd grabbed Warren's dick. But a line had been crossed. Never
in the two years the boys had been jacking off together had either ever
tried to touch the other in any way. However without any reason or thought
behind it, Pete had held Warren's prick and held it long enough for the
other boy to respond. He'd felt it start to grow in his hand. "Bull
shit. Jack yourself off. I'm outta here."
      That night Pete had the first fantasies that he could remember having
about his friend Warren and Warren's cock and Warren's statement that he
wanted to be bisexual and the fun that might ensue if Pete were to become
bisexual too. It was definitely something to think about!
      Though they'd continued to get together for no purpose other than to
jack off, neither boy had touched the other again. Warren would
occasionally mention it and in a teasing sort of way, offer to let Pete do
it. Pete always declined, though he'd thought about it often and had
continued to wear the pink panties many times when they were together.
Those panties had almost become his uniform for solo sex, especially if he
did it with Warren. Luckily, the night he'd gotten his clock cleaned by
Martha's new boyfriend hadn't been one of them. He and Warren had jacked
off twice before Pete had gone home that night and had the run-in with
Ben. When he'd gone over backwards, he'd hit his head a good lick and on
the chance he might have a concussion, they'd kept him overnight at the
hospital. He'd have had a lot of explaining to do if they'd taken his
clothes and found him wearing pink, cum stained panties. It was bad enough
that his jockey shorts had been crusty and his mom had noticed.


To be continued. Comments appreciated: amber_fountaine@hotmail.com