Date: Thu, 20 Dec 2007 22:36:00 -0600
From: Amber Fountaine <amber_fountaine@hotmail.com>
Subject: Old Fruit Jar

Many `Amber Fountaine' stories are based on real adventures of others that
have either written me or have sent me a tape, telling me all about the
events, or of people that I've met in person that have related their
escapades. In each case, the person has asked that I change the name and/or
location and tell their story. This one I heard in person during a recent
vacation trip. Enjoy!


Old Fruit Jar
as told to Amber Fountaine


	I grew up in the Phoenix area during the beginning of the boom
years. I was what some call a `late bloomer' in that I was almost out of
high school before I began to fill out, making me the subject of a lot of
teasing and ridicule that had begun in elementary school. I was skinny,
awkward, and admittedly shy, especially around girls. So it was only
natural I suppose for me to be envious of my neighbor and his construction
crew.
	Jim Roland had an uncle in the construction business and that's a
damn good way to move up in a company real quick. Jim had graduated from
high school, a couple of years back, about the time my dad bought our house
next door to the Roland's, and with no plans for college, Jim had gone to
work for his uncle. In high school, Jim had worked for his uncle during the
summers so he had some experience. He also had a pretty good brain, could
read blueprints with the best of them and since he had a mind for math (and
his uncle owned the company), Jim became the foreman of a framing crew.
	Once Jim made foreman, it became a habit for at least a couple of
the guys on his crew to meet at Jim's house in the morning and ride with
him to whatever location they were working, since we were on the West side
of Phoenix at the time and most of the work was in the East Valley
area. Most of the guys were just like Jim, in their late teens or early
twenties and were gorgeous men. They didn't have male calendars back then,
but if they had, I'm sure Jim and his crew could have qualified as
models. Watching Jim and his crew from my bedroom window, especially in the
late afternoon when they'd come in covered with sweat and sawdust, was when
I felt the first inkling of sexual desire for another male.
	Up to that point, I was sure – in spite of all the teasing to the
contrary – that I was 100% straight. By then I'd been showering with guys
in gym for a few years and being around all those naked boys didn't do a
thing for me. All of my hormonal hunger was directed toward my female
classmates, not that it did me any good. The girls laughed at me almost as
much as the boys did when one of the guys would pull a prank.
	It wasn't unusual for me to walk in a classroom and find that
someone had written something on the chalk board. Once it was, "Clark Kent
= Superman, Sammy Kent = Supersissy." Another favorite of my antagonists
was, "Sammy Sux the Big Ones" or some similar cute remark. When I'd try to
ignore the message, one of the guys would ask if I was advertising, getting
a laugh from the girls as well as the guys. Then someone else would suggest
that it didn't have to be a big one, that I enjoyed all sizes. That banter,
with me as the target, would last until the teacher walked in the
room. Even when I showed up at the Jr.-Sr. Prom with a date, there were a
few of the guys teasing me about finally asking a girl out so nobody would
suspect I was really queer.
	That wasn't true at all. I had a huge crush on Betty, my date, and
the proudest moment of my life to then had been when she accepted my offer
to go as my date. However, it wasn't long after that when I vividly
remember having my first sexual thoughts of another man. They weren't
thoughts of sex with a man, but they were sexual none-the-less.

	I was in my bedroom, doing homework, when Jim and his crew pulled
in. As they often did, they'd stopped for a six-pack of beer and when they
got to Jim's house, they'd hose off in the front yard and split the
six-pack before going their separate ways. This one afternoon seemed to be
a party of some sort that I later learned was to celebrate their finishing
a big job and getting a bonus check. Jim's parents were gone for a couple
of weeks and a couple of other crews joined with Jim's to celebrate at the
Roland's house. It wasn't much of a party, by my later party standards, but
it was bigger and louder and a little more rambunctious than the usual
after-work get-togethers – enough to get my attention anyway.
	The uniform for these young guys was work boots and cutoff
jeans. They might have on t-shirts when they showed up in the morning but
they were gone by the time they got off work. I remember standing in my
window, watching the guys cavort in Jim's yard as they drank their beer and
squirted each other with the hose. It was still fairly early in the spring
and cool at night, but these guys already had dark tans from working in the
sun every day. I'd stare at one with envy, wishing I had his build and good
looks and then another would get my attention and I'd wish I looked like
him instead. By the time their little party broke up, I had taken off all
my clothes and was standing in front of the mirror on my closet door,
flexing what little muscle I had, pretending my pale white skin was as dark
as theirs, and I got harder than I'd ever gotten that I could recall.
	Now I realize a hard cock on a teenage boy is about as rare as the
sun rising in the East. In fact the sun rises once a day and my cock came
up a lot more often than that. But that day, that afternoon, was the first
time it had ever gotten stiff from looking at other men. And when I pumped
out a load of cream that splattered everywhere from the base of the mirror
to the tips of my toes, while I wasn't thinking about sex with those guys,
I was wondering what their cocks might look like if they were completely
naked. So as far as I'm concerned, that was the moment when that `100%
straight' orientation that I'd have sworn to began to slip.
	By the end of school that spring, I'd begun to pay a lot more
attention to those after-work hosing offs that went on in Jim's yard and
had begun to buddy up to Jim on weekends. I tried not to think that any of
it might be sexual, but every time Jim called me `squirt' I'd have an
instant image in my mind of Jim naked with a hard cock squirting cum.
	If you want an idea of how long ago this was, the previous summer
I'd worked in a gas station pumping gas. Some younger readers might not
remember when people sat in their cars and had their gas pumped for them
while others on the gas station crew would clean their windshield, check
water and oil levels and even test the air pressure in the tires. Well
that's what I'd done, and being the new guy and the youngest, I'd caught
some teasing from those guys too. But it wasn't like the teasing in
school. The guys at school seemed to enjoy teasing me in front of the
girls, as if putting me down made them look better. The guys at the gas
station teased each other, as well as me. I just caught more of it because
I was new and still a kid.
	So I knew if I worked with Jim, I'd get a lot of teasing and pranks
pulled on me, but that was okay. As I began to know Jim better, I began
hinting that I'd like to work for him that summer. One day, when I happened
to be working in the front yard when Jim and his crew pulled in, he called
me over. I'd met them before so that was no big thing, but this time Jim
told them he was thinking about putting me on as a helper that summer. It
was the first indication I'd had that Jim had taken my hints seriously and
I glowed with pride when the guys started saying it was a good idea. Then,
as they drank their beer, the teasing began.
	One of the guys said his wife was pregnant and he had something I
could help him with. That got a laugh and I laughed too. I'd heard similar
remarks among the men I'd worked with at the gas station and knew the best
thing to do was laugh with them and not get offended. One of the guys,
Dave, suggested I'd make a good `jar boy' and that went over my head. I
knew there were a lot of construction terms I'd have to learn and thought
that was probably one of them. Then Carl told Dave he was sure Dave would
rather piss his pants anyway and instead of coming back at Carl with some
sort of remark, Dave peed his pants right there in Jim's front yard.
       I was stunned, but none of the other guys seemed to think it at all
unusual. For the next week, I made sure I was in a position to watch the
guys when they got to Jim's after work. Almost always, I was sure I saw at
least one of them piss in his shorts while they drank their beer and then
they'd hose each other off. So that weekend, when I had a chance to talk to
Jim alone, I managed to steer the conversation in that direction and asked
Jim why they did that.
	He told me it was a trick he'd learned from his uncle who'd gotten
the idea from some safety class or something. He said that it was important
to drink a lot of water while working in the sun and that if a guy didn't
need to pee, it was because he hadn't had enough water. He said that over
the last few years, going back to when he'd worked part-time, they'd sort
of made a game of it. Since the places where they worked usually didn't
have any nearby toilets, and the only people around a framing crew, if
there were any at all, were other construction workers, the guys had
developed the habit of pissing in their pants, which would dry within
minutes, or using a jar if they had a `jar boy' to take care of it. He told
me that if I was serious about working for him when school was out, one of
my jobs would be `jar boy' until the guys got tired of it or if we happened
to be working someplace where the guys couldn't piss their pants. He told
me he kept an old fruit jar – what my mom called a `Mason' jar – behind the
seat of his truck and what I had to do when a guy on the crew asked, was to
bring him the jar to pee in and then go empty it. "No big deal," he
concluded. "I did it the first summer I worked for my uncle. Not much
different than a nurse emptying a bed pan."
	Well if it was good enough for Jim, I concluded, it was good enough
for me. I told him about the ragging I's gotten at the gas station and how
I was sure I could expect the same or worse from his crew and that `jar
boy' or not, I really wanted to work for him that summer.
	"Good," he told me. "In that case, get the jar out of my truck and
you can practice right now."
	The whole time we'd been talking, Jim had been working under the
hood of his truck. Again this was back before computerized everything and a
guy with a little mechanical knowledge could fix just about anything on a
car or truck himself. I was sure Jim wasn't just testing me because his
hands and arms were greasy to the elbow and he couldn't open a door to go
inside. What I wasn't ready for was his reaction when I went to hand him
the jar.
	"You'll have to hold it for me," he said. "My hands are so greasy
I'd drop it. Actually, you'd better open my fly for me too."
	The most popular jeans at the time were the Levi's with the button
fly. To undo them, you started with the very top button and worked your way
down and it took both hands to do it. So I set the jar down and with hands
that were trembling I'm sure, undid all the buttons on the front of Jim's
Levi's. Then I bent to pick up the jar and Jim told me, "You're gonna have
to take it out too."
	Since this was my future boss, and I had my summer job on the line,
and maybe, if I was completely honest I really wanted to, I managed to get
what looked to me to be the biggest cock in the world out of Jim's pants. I
realized later that it had gotten semi stiff from my fumbling with the
buttons on his fly, but at the moment I was mesmerized by his big pink
prick. As dark as the rest of his skin had gotten, it almost looked out of
place.
	"Now hold the jar so I can pee in it," he told me.
	I did as he said, holding the jar so his cock fell over the edge
and was partly in the jar. When the piss began to stream out of the slit in
his cockhead, I felt my cock get hard. By the time Jim finished peeing, I
had a full blown erection and with my hands full holding the jar and his
pants open, I had no way to hide it. "What now?" I asked.
	"Drink it, throw it in the yard, or take it home and play with
it. I don't care, but you need to do something so you can get my dick back
in my pants. I can't stand here like this forever."
	At the time, I felt like the only acceptable option had been
throwing the pee out in the yard so that's what I'd done. Then I returned
to find Jim standing, smiling, and waiting for me to put his cock back in
his pants for him and button the fly. His cock wasn't yet fully stiff, but
it was bigger than before he'd started pissing. And the harder I tried to
get it in his pants, the harder it got, and more unlikely it became that
I'd ever succeed. Jim had noticed my equally aroused condition and after
letting me fumble around with his cock, and getting it completely hard, he
told me, "Looks like we could both use a break. Good thing my folks are
gone. Let that go and open the kitchen door for me and follow me in the
house."
	As usual, I did as instructed, allowing Jim to get to the kitchen
sink without touching anything and turning on the hot water for him and
pouring some soap in his hands. I was trying to ignore the hard cock
sticking out of his pants, but I couldn't keep my eyes off it and Jim
smiled at me as he noticed my avid interest. "Follow me to my room," he
told me. "I've got some books we can look at."
	The books he had were a small collection of "Playboy" magazines,
and again giving away my age, these were from before they were allowed to
show a woman's pubic hair. Now the photographers get so up close and
personal that you can damn near see the girl's heart beat. But they were
hot stuff for me at the time and when Jim suggested I pick a magazine, take
off my shorts, and join him on the bed, I did.
	Soon we were laying shoulder to shoulder, stroking our cocks, and
looking at the pictures, telling each other what we'd like to do with the
girls in the pictures. I think I might have made it through two or three
pages before I sent jism flying everywhere, mostly on me, but some got on
Jim. That didn't bother Jim at all and in fact, triggered the same reaction
from him. I had rolled toward him to wipe up the glob of cum on his chest
when he began to shoot, some of it hitting my nose and the side of my
face. When a big part of it ran onto the corner of my mouth, I licked it
off without thinking about what Jim might think as he watched me.
	In the two months since I'd first jacked off thinking about the men
in Jim's front yard, my masturbation fantasies had become progressively
more homosexual. They hadn't gotten to dreaming of sucking or fucking, but
had definitely gotten to where I wanted to see their cocks, hold them, and
make them cum. And I'd become familiar with the taste of my own cum
too. Previously, I'd done all my jacking off in the bathroom, or in bed,
using a dirty sock to catch my jism, while thinking of some girl at
school. Now I was more often doing it in front of the mirror, looking at my
own naked body, and pretending it was another boy that I was
watching. Unlike the first time, when I'd gotten cum on the floor, now I
caught it with my free hand and when finished, the boy in the mirror and I
would offer our cum to each other. In retrospect, I believe the only reason
I wasn't fantasizing about sucking a cock was that I had no idea how to do
it or what it would feel like. Jim would soon change that.
	"Which do you like better, mine or yours?" Jim asked as we lay
naked in his bed, our jack-off session over for the moment.
	I wasn't sure what he meant. I thought he meant our cocks and since
his was bigger, I told him, "Yours. It's a lot bigger."
	He laughed. "It's not that much bigger and yours is bigger than
some guys I've seen. What I meant was, do you like my cum better than
yours?"
	That was sort of like those trick questions guys tease each other
with where any answer is wrong. I hadn't really thought about tasting his
cum when I'd licked it off my upper lip and any answer I gave would be an
admission that I'd tasted my own cum. So instead of answering his question,
I responded, "Oh," to his explanation and let it drop.
	"We can do it again if you like," he told me.
	I shook my head. "I probably ought to get home for lunch."
	He laughed. "I didn't mean right this minute. What I meant was if
you'd like to jack off with me again some time, I'd like for you to join
me. It's a lot better when you do it with someone else."
	I'd never thought about doing it with someone else until I started
with the boy in the mirror and thinking about Jim and his crew. Now it was
all I thought about. Yet I didn't want to seem too enthusiastic about
something I wasn't supposed to like. So I said, "Yeah, okay." But even as I
said it, my eyes were on Jim's cock. He was slowly stroking it and there
was a shiny glob of cum in the pee slit that seemed to be winking at
me. I'm sure I made a lie of my feigned disinterest when I used my fingers
to scoop up the cum on my belly and brought it to my mouth. After I'd
licked my fingers, Jim indicated some on his chest and belly and even
though it was his and not mine, I scooped it up and swallowed it too. I'm
sure at that moment I would have sucked his cock if he'd asked, but since
he didn't, I put on my clothes and went home.
       For the following week, all my masturbatory fantasies involved
letting Jim squirt his cum in my mouth. I'll admit, I was a little
frightened of the sway Jim had over me at the moment and of how eager I was
to do anything or everything he asked, sexual or not. School let out for me
at mid-week and my sister graduated from junior high on Friday. Then
Saturday morning, my parents joined some of the other parents in hosting a
pool party for the graduates at a public pool. I had to go to my sister's
graduation, but not the party and that left me free to visit Jim Saturday
morning, using the excuse that I wanted to remind him I was ready to start
work on Monday and to find out what tools I might need to have in my new
but nearly empty toolbox.
       He took me out in the back yard while he worked on some fence boards
that had rotted and told me he was looking forward to me being on the crew
and that for at least the first week or two I wouldn't need any tools, that
he had extras and after I'd worked with them a while, I'd have a better
idea of which tools I used more often and would want to buy. Then when he
was sure his folks were inside, he told me he'd gotten a couple of new
books but we couldn't enjoy them together while his folks were home. I told
him mine weren't home and wouldn't be until dark and that he was welcome to
come to my house.
       An hour later, he was in my bedroom with his books, we were naked in
my bed, and somehow I fought back the urge to confess I wanted him to shoot
his cum in my mouth. But I'm sure he knew. He could see it in my eyes.
	When we'd finished, he told me, "I'll be getting my own apartment
in a few weeks and we won't have to worry about either of our parents being
home."
	That came as a surprise. He was indicating that he'd like to get
together with me even after he moved. It was one thing to be a convenient
neighbor – but being asked to visit what I considered an older man – that
was something else again. Then before I had much time to think about it, he
reminded me I should be ready at his house at 7:00 AM on Monday and added,
"You'd better be prepared for a week of being the jar boy. Normally the
guys might make you do that a time of two - it's a lot easier for them to
cut loose in their shorts and to tell you the truth, I think we're all
getting into this pants pissing stuff. But next week we're doing something
different and they'll be other crews from other companies around and if
they haven't put up a port-a-john, they'll be keeping you busy. And watch
out for Dave. He can get a little carried away."
	I was ready. Or at least I thought I was. The something different
turned out to be a self-storage facility. Normally Jim's crew framed
houses, but this was a job his uncle was doing as the general
contractor. There were big long concrete slabs, with no plumbing or
electricity. All the walls were cinder block put up by one crew, then Jim's
was supposed to come behind them adding joists and rafters and a roof
deck. Then a roofing crew would follow us putting down felt and
shingles. Since all the measurements, from one end of the building to the
other were the same, we started off pre-fabbing trusses and then Jim and
Dave went up to put down a top plate and start nailing the trusses in
place. For the first couple of hours they had me busy passing up the
pre-fabbed trusses and bringing the other two guys the materials to cut and
assemble more. I'd gotten so busy I'd forgotten about anything else but
hauling material and helping pass up trusses when Dave told me, "When you
finish there jar boy, I need to pee."
	Jim was walking the top plate and Dave was working from a ladder
inside. So when I brought Dave the jar, the only one that could see Dave
below the waist was Jim from his position, and me from mine. I remember Jim
telling me to watch out for Dave, but I never expected Dave to pee in my
face and all over my body, blaming me for not holding the jar
correctly. I'd expected him to hold the jar, since his hands hadn't been
greasy like Jim's had been that morning Jim had peed in the jar. But as
soon as I tried to pass it up to Dave, he took out his cock and began
peeing. I tried to catch it in the jar, but he kept making me miss and
pissing on me at the same time.
	"Shit! Next time just put it in your mouth so you don't make a
mess," he chided.
	I could have argued, but knew that the more fuss I made, the longer
the teasing and pranks would go on. But I was a bit surprised when I looked
at Jim and he smiled and winked.
	The next time Dave asked for the jar, I was ready for him. "Why
bother," I shot back at him. "You can't hit the damn thing anyway. With an
aim like yours, I'm surprised you can drive a nail."
	"How about I bend your young ass over a saw horse and we'll see who
can drive what!"
	I didn't respond. I'd made my point and when I brought him the jar,
he took it and used it like it was supposed to be done. Of course he had to
get in the last word, "When you're done drinking that, come back and I'll
give you a refill."
	"If it was anyone else's I might want to drink it," I shot
back. "But since it's yours, I think I'll pour it on those weeds they're
trying to kill."
	That evening, when we got off, the guys insisted I have a beer with
them in Jim's front yard. And when the other guys took off, Jim thanked me
for the help and complemented me on not backing down to Dave. "I thought
sure he'd make life miserable for you the first week or so, but you came
right back at him and I don't think he expected that." Then after a moment,
he asked, "Are your folks home yet?"
	It took me by surprise, especially the soft way he'd asked. I knew
what he wanted to do. "No," I told him and wouldn't have been surprised if
a tear had formed in the corner of my eye when I added, "But my sister is
and my mom will be in a few minutes."
	"Okay, no sweat," he told me, like it was no big deal. But I could
tell he was disappointed. Then he started laughing. "Ol' Dave was SO damn
surprised when you didn't drop the jar and run when he peed on you." Then
he looked me in the eye and asked softly, "Did you like it?"
	That was a question that had been going through my mind all day. I
had expected to have all the guys pull out their cocks and pee in front of
me and I hadn't been sure how I'd react. To be on the safe side, I'd worn
an old jock strap, hoping that if I got a boner, it wouldn't be
noticeable. But there had been a toilet available in what would become the
office and Dave had been the only one to make me play jar boy. I'd been
expecting it from all of them, and maybe hoping too – especially where Jim
was concerned. After Dave had hosed me down with pee, I wondered if that
was part of the initiation or something and if they'd all do it. I'd been
hoping that Jim would. But he hadn't, so I answered him, "Not really. I
might have if you'd done it."
	Jim's blue eyes bore into me for what seemed like minutes but
wasn't but a fraction of one. "If I do, then the rest of them will think
it's okay. Is that all right with you?"
	"As long as you do it first," I told him, almost blushing.
	He smiled and winked at me. "I'll be thinking about you," he said
as he started to move toward the house and gave a very brief movement of
his hand, like he was jacking off, to make sure I understood.
       "Me too," I responded dumbly and hoped he knew I'd meant I'd be
thinking of him and not me too. Then I stopped him, "Almost forgot," I
said, blushing. When he'd stopped and was looking at me, I let loose some
of the pee I'd been holding all afternoon and Jim just stood there,
watching and smiling. When I'd pissed enough to thoroughly wet the front of
my shorts, I told him, "I guess that makes me one of the crew now huh?"
       He nodded and told me, "You got it squirt. Be sure and do that
tomorrow. The guys will love it."
       I waited for my shorts to stop dripping before going in the house
and then hoped I could get to the bathroom I shared with my sister before
she spotted me with pissy wet shorts. I hadn't completely emptied my
bladder, just releasing enough to soak my shorts and bring the pressure
down to where I could cut it off. So I still needed to pee some more and
had this wild idea in the back of my head. Fortunately, my sister was in
her room, talking on the phone as usual, so I got to the bathroom, stripped
off my clothes, and got in the tub without her ever knowing I'd come
home. Then with my knees bent so that I could lay almost flat in the tub, I
began pissing again, this time aiming for my wide open mouth.
	It had been on my mind since Jim had made the remark about his jar
of piss. He'd said to, "drink it, throw it out, or play with it." I'd
thrown it out, but the idea of drinking it or playing with it had stuck in
my mind. Since then, I'd tried playing with my own pee, wetting my pants
and pissing on myself in the tub. But that morning, when Dave had mentioned
drinking his piss, the urge to take that step had hit me again. It was an
exciting thought, but I wanted to try my own first. I'd have been a lot
more successful had I just pissed in a glass and drank it that way. Trying
to pee in my mouth was a lot harder than I'd imagined. But I got to taste
enough to decide the taste wasn't bad at all. In fact, compared to the
taste of cum, which had put me off at first, pee had a sort of nice flavor
to it. Then another chapter of my life began.
	As I was to find out later, my sister had been about to take a bath
when the phone had rung and like most females of any age, a ringing phone
is their first priority. I honestly believe a woman would pause in the
middle of childbirth to take a phone call. I know now for a fact they'll
stop in the middle of sex to do it.
	Anyway, my sister had gone to her room to take the call and left a
few of her things in the bathroom we shared. It wasn't unusual for my
sister to take a bath and leave her used underwear laying around and I
mistakenly assumed that's what she'd done. I thought the panties laying on
the toilet seat were some she'd worn already and for reasons I'm still at a
loss to explain all these years later, when I finished drying off, I
decided to try on the panties.
	My little sister had been leaving panties and bras and nighties in
the bathroom for years and I'd never paid any attention to them. But not
now; not since Jim and his crew had heightened my sexual senses and some of
that heightened awareness had spilled over into the way I was looking at
women. One of the things that had suddenly occurred to me was that my
little sister was very quickly becoming a woman. A perfect example was the
panties. At some point in recent weeks or months or maybe even years – I'd
paid that little attention - she'd stopped wearing the plain white cotton
panties that she'd worn from the day she was out of diapers. The panties
she'd left in the bathroom were nylon, lacy, and in my opinion, sexy as
hell. Another indication my sister was growing up was the fact that the
panties fit me. My little sister was quickly filling out in all the right
places.
	My plan had been to jack off in the tub as soon as I was done with
the pee play, but I'd grown to enjoy my masturbation sessions with the guy
in the mirror and . . . I'd spotted those panties and wondered what they'd
look like if I wore them. So I'd put them on, grabbed my things, and gone
to my room. I was standing in front of the mirror, the panties pulled down
in front so I could pump my prick, and was about two strokes from sexual
nirvana when my sister walked in, looking for the panties she was sure I'd
taken. I'm not sure which shocked her more; the sight of me wearing the
panties or jacking off. And I don't know which embarrassed me more; being
caught wearing her panties or jacking off. I waited for the scream that I
was sure was coming and was already preparing to make whatever deal I
needed to make to keep her from telling our parents. But all she did was
stare at my cock. Then I noticed it was much the same as the way I'd stared
at Jim's. If I still had any doubts about how fast my sister was growing
up, they disappeared in a hurry when she told me to finish, that she wanted
to watch.
	I'm not an exhibitionist. I wasn't then and I'm not one now. But I
had to admit that the thought of a girl watching me jack my cock was
exciting, even if the girl was my own sister. Little Jenny had become
Jenifer and if Jenifer wanted to watch me jack off, I really wasn't in any
position to argue. "Do it," she said, "And you can keep the panties." I
wanted to argue that I'd had no intention of keeping the panties or of even
using them more than the one time, but that original intention had faded as
I'd been jacking my cock and thinking how sexy I looked in panties. So I
went back to looking at my jack-off buddy, the guy in the mirror that
always matched me stroke for stroke, admiring his hard cock and his sexy
panties, and as best I could, I ignored the young woman that had moved to
stand beside me while the guy in the mirror and I pumped our pricks. And
since I was blocking out Jenifer's presence, it never occurred to me how
she'd react to seeing me catch my cum and then lick my hand clean.
	"Oh wow," she exclaimed. "You like it? I think it tastes kind of
yucky."
	Two thoughts flashed through my mind at once. The first was that my
little sister must have sucked a cock and the second was that with that bit
of information, I had some leverage with my sister if she decided to say
anything about what I'd just done. I had a few questions to ask my sister
and I was sure she had a few to ask me, but as soon as the show was over,
so to speak, she turned and walked back out of the room. That left me
standing there in a pair of panties I'd meant to borrow for only a few
minutes and had been gifted with instead. I felt like I should take them
off, but that imparted me with the question of where to put them. The
natural place would have been my underwear drawer but most of the time my
mom refilled that drawer for me and I was sure she'd take a very
unfavorable stance when it came to her son wearing panties. Over the last
few years, I'd had a few of those magazines like Jim had stashed in his
room and no matter where I stashed mine, my mother found them and after
they were in the trash and gone, she'd tell me about it, reminding me that
filthy literature had no place in her house. So the only place I could
think of was in my toolbox in the garage until a better plan came to mind.
	Jenny, or the more adult sounding Jenifer as she preferred to be
called now, didn't get into a discussion with me that evening and when I
tried to talk to her, she said to wait until the following weekend, that
our folks would be visiting our Aunt and probably be gone overnight. I
wasn't interested in getting into that much of a discussion, but I accepted
her idea and let it drop. I had more immediate things to concern myself
with, like work the next day.
	The next morning, I wasn't sure how Jim had taken my parting
comments the evening before and what he might say or do about it. But I
trusted him to keep me from being physically hurt and anything else I could
get over – or as it turned out, under.
	We went through the whole morning without any incidents and just a
little joking and teasing, most of it with me as the butt of the joke of
course. It was mid-afternoon when Jim hollered, "Hey jar boy. I need some
relief over here." So I went to his truck to get the jar, wondering what
Jim might have in mind, and couldn't find the damn jar. I think I knew
then. When I went back to Jim and told him the jar was missing, he said,
"No problem. Jar boy can be the jar. Open your mouth and stand still."  I
was glad I'd worn my jock strap again because I started getting a hard on
even before Jim got his cock out and began pissing down on me. I guess it
was about six or eight feet up from my mouth to the head of Jim's cock and
with that much distance, the stream of piss was no longer a stream by the
time it reached me. In addition, with no ceiling or roof, the wind that was
blowing swirled inside each of the little storage cubicles, making it
nearly impossible for Jim to pee in my mouth. But we tried, even though it
didn't do much good. By the time Jim finished I was wet with piss from my
forehead down. Carl had been working with Jim and he just watched in
awe. By the end of the day, Carl, Dave, and Cody had all done the same
thing and I'd learned to climb half-way up the ladder so I could catch most
of the hot pee in my mouth.
       That evening, when we got to Jim's house, he told the guys I'd
passed my initiation and there'd be no more days like today. In some ways I
was grateful for that, as I'm sure if we kept it up, the word would get
around. But in another way, it had been exciting and I'd enjoyed it. As
soon as the other guys were gone, Jim asked me if I had had enjoyed it and
I answered honestly. "Well in that case, I better remember to keep my
bladder full for any time you come see me." Then with that famous wink and
smile, he went in his house and I went to mine.
       The rest of the week flew by. A couple of times, when one of the
other crews was working fairly close to us, one of the guys would ask me to
get the old fruit jar and they'd use it properly, giving it back to me to
dump. The rest of the time it was business as usual, with all of us pissing
in our shorts and letting the Arizona sunshine evaporate it in
minutes. Friday afternoon, when we got to Jim's we had a few extra
beers. Normally I just had one, but Jim had iced down a case for the
occasion, since we'd knocked out the job ahead of schedule and would all be
getting bonus checks again. My next surprise from Jim came the following
morning and it followed a surprise from my parents by minutes.
       My sister and my mom talked constantly which was why Jenifer had
known they were going out of town for a day or two. She was always much
more aware of our parents plans than I was. So it came as a surprise to me
when my mom told me at breakfast that she was taking Jenifer with them and
that I'd have to fend for myself for two days. Microwave ovens weren't that
popular yet, but TV dinners were and they'd made sure there were enough in
the freezer that I wouldn't starve for the two days. My cooking skills have
improved greatly since then but at the time, I couldn't fix a piece of
toast without burning it. Mom and dad and Jenifer were still packing a few
things into the car when Jim rang our doorbell and mom let him in. He had a
tool-belt over his shoulder, with a couple of leather pouches and a few of
the standard tools hanging off it. At first glance, I suspected he had a
job he wanted help with, but I was wrong.
       "My old belt," he explained, "and some extra tools. Monday you start
swinging a hammer with the rest of the crew. You'll still be a go-fer, but
it's time to start building up those building muscles."
       My mom beamed at me proudly. Her little boy was becoming a man and
being accepted into a man's world. My dad however, looked rather
skeptically on the whole thing. He was afraid I might decide to skip
college and follow in Jim's footsteps. My folks were barely out of the
driveway, when Jim asked, "You've got your own tape right?"
       "In my toolbox," I answered proudly, leading the way to the
garage. I'd splurged on the most expensive measuring tape, since that was
the one tool I was sure I'd need no matter what they had me do. Why
mentioning my toolbox didn't remind me that I'd stashed Jen's panties in
there, I don't know. Maybe I wanted Jim to see them and that's why I'd hid
them there to begin with. I've learned a lot about subconscious motivation
and things like that since then, and I suppose there're all sorts of
possibilities, but for whatever reason – or motivation – I didn't. The
bottom line is that as soon as I opened the toolbox, there were the pink
panties right on top.
       "Planning to start a new trend in work uniforms?" Jim joked. "I'm
sure you'd look cute dressed in those, but I don't think the rest of the
guys would go for it."
       Quickly I explained that I'd had no intention of bringing them to
work, either in my toolbox or on my person, and then told him the whole
story of how Jenifer had caught me and given the panties to me without my
asking for them. "I was just going to try it that one time," I tried to
assure him.
       He nodded and in a disbelieving tone told me, "Yeah." Then he said,
"Put them on."
       I was so used to taking orders from Jim that I never
hesitated. Right there in the garage, with the garage door still open, I
stripped down and stepped into the panties. Jim was telling me how cute I
looked when a car drove by and we realized it might be a good idea to close
the garage door before one of the neighbors spotted me.  With the door
closed and the house to ourselves, Jim took his time, admiring me from all
angles and making me repeat the whole story about jacking off in my
sister's panties in front of my sister. Then he told me I looked so sexy he
was going to have to go home and beat his meat. I reminded him that my
folks had just left for the weekend and had taken my sister with them and
he didn't have to go anywhere if he wanted to jack off together again. He
told me he needed his magazines for inspiration and didn't think just
pounding his pud without the magazines would work.  "I've always jacked off
looking at pictures," he said, then added what was an obvious hint, "Or had
a girlfriend that would do it for me."
	I'm sure my voice was cracking when I suggested that maybe I could
pretend to be his girlfriend. Instead of jumping at my offer, he made a big
show – faking I'm sure - of trying to decide if that would be okay. Maybe
his big brain couldn't decide, but judging by the lump growing in his
shorts, his little head had made up its mind. Then he asked, "What else of
your sister's do you wear?"
	I tried to explain again that it had been a one time thing and that
I'd never had any desire to wear any of Jen's clothes, but when that seemed
to disappoint him, I told him, "But we have all weekend. I guess it
wouldn't hurt to try it."
	We looked at most everything in Jenifer's room. She did have some
sexy panties, but most everything else was rather plain. Jim hinted we
should look through my mom's things but I drew the line on that. Then he
spotted a white baby-doll nightie and told me to just wear the top with the
pink panties and I would look really sexy. I tried it and had to agree that
it did make me look and feel like a sexy woman. Then Jim wanted me to put
on makeup, but I balked at that, compromising on just putting on some
lipstick. I didn't know how, so he helped me and when he finished, he told
me, I had, "Fuckable lips." I'd never heard that before and it took a
minute for me to realize what he meant. I'll admit that when the
realization hit me, I flushed with excitement.
	Then we went to my room and immediately Jim stripped down naked and
laid in the middle of my bed, stroking his cock with one hand and fondling
his nuts with the other. "Sit on the bed next to me and watch how I do it,"
he instructed. After a couple of minutes of that, he took his hands away
and told me, "Now you do it."
       I'd heard stories about guys at school that had gotten together to
play with each other's cocks and had never been sure if they were true or
not. None of those stories had come from the parties involved – they'd all
been about someone else that was supposed to have done it. Now I was going
to go those stories one better by playing with the cock of the man next
door. Holding Jim's cock in my hand again was an absolutely awesome
experience. I'd gotten excited taking it out of his pants to pee and then
trying to put it away. But I hadn't really thought of that as sexual. This
was definitely sexual. Sex was the sole purpose of me having his cock in my
hands. It's impossible to describe all the feelings that were going through
me at that moment. Almost immediately pre-cum began to ooze from the tip
and I used that to lubricate my hands as more and more of the clear runny
cream flowed out. Then Jim told me to kiss it.
       I knew what he really wanted and I did too. I gave the head of his
cock a kiss and when I pulled back to admire his manhood from up close, a
string of pre-cum stretched from my lower lip to his prick. I tried to
catch it with my tongue and wound up licking the underside of Jim's
cock. Then I did it before he asked. I knew he was going to. I kissed his
cock again, this time letting my lips part as I slowly slide more and more
of his cock in my mouth. I had no idea how to give a man a blow job so I
went slowly, trying different things and when one of those things would
make Jim moan or say, "Oh yeah," I'd remember to do that more often than
the things that got no response. When he told me, "Stop – I'm close," and
pushed me back, I remembered he liked to play with his nuts when he jacked
off and began licking him there. That caused him to grab his cock and beat
if frantically for a few seconds before telling me through clenched teeth,
"I'm gonna cum if you want it."
       Being new to all this, I wasn't sure how I was supposed to take
it. The only thing I had available to catch his spewing sperm was my
mouth. Then I realized that's what he meant and got my lips over the head
of his cock just as the first volley of jism spurted out. Forgetting how
sensitive a cock can be at that moment, I tried to suck out more and Jim
had to stop me, holding my head still with one hand while he continued to
milk his cock with the other. Afraid to do something else wrong, I did
nothing, remaining perfectly still while he filled my mouth with his tasty
cream. I waited until he'd taken both hands away before letting his cock
slip from between my lips. Then I looked up at him and when I had his
attention, made a show of swallowing his whole load in one huge gulp,
licking my lips when I'd finished. After a moment, he looked at me with a
huge smile and said, "Sammy, that's got to be the best blowjob I've ever
had."
       I found that hard to believe, since it was the first time I'd done
it. But I wasn't about to argue either. "I can get better with practice," I
reminded him as he pulled me up beside him to hug me.
       "I'm sure you can," he answered grinning. "And you're really
pretty. If you keep practicing being a girl, you could be beautiful."
       I know he meant it as a compliment, but that was something I'd have
to think about some more. My goal had been to look like Jim and the rest of
his crew, all muscled up and trim and tan for my senior year of high
school. Being pretty or beautiful hadn't been in my plans at all. But for
the moment, or the weekend at least, if Jim wanted me to be his `girl' then
that's what I'd be. "Anything my big handsome man wants," I teased,
reaching to hold his wilting prick.
       "You didn't cum," he reminded me. "Jack off on my cock and then lick
it clean."
       I didn't know where Jim came up with these erotic ideas, but as long
as I was involved in them, I didn't care. I knelt between his legs, raised
the hem of my nightie and lowered my panties and in short order, coated
Jim's cock, balls, and pubic hair with my jism. Then I went to work licking
it up, adding the flavor of my cum to the flavor of his, still lingering in
my mouth. Then we relaxed for a while, laying shoulder to shoulder in my
bed, talking about anything and everything.
       After a few minutes he asked, "Did you like it when the guys peed in
your mouth Tuesday? It looked to me like you did."
       It had been weird, strange, different, bizarre even – and very
exciting. Instead of telling him all that, I answered succinctly, "Yeah, I
did."
       He wanted more. "What did you like best?"
       I had to think about that. "I'm not sure," I told him, finding it
hard to put it in words.
       "I was watching you and you seemed to be in a trance when you got up
close to their cocks. Did you like them pulling their cocks out so close to
your face?
       He was right. That had been a big part of it. I could close my eyes
and picture each of the four cocks without a problem. "Yeah, I really
did. They're all different and . . . all . . . beautiful."
       "Did you like drinking their piss? Did it taste good? It looked like
you got hard every time you did it."
	I kept wondering why he continued on this subject and then it hit
me. "Jim," I asked. "Are you hinting you want me to drink your pee?"
	He smiled and nodded and I moved to close my lips around his cock
again. I didn't want to spill any in my bed and have to explain to my mom
how my mattress got stained. I wasn't entirely successful, but as I
discovered later, there was only one small area where it was enough to soak
through the sheets to the mattress and when it dried, it didn't leave a
stain. When his bladder was drained, he asked me how I'd like to suck off
all the guys on the crew and drink their cum and pee like I'd done his. I
wasn't sure if he was serious so I asked him.
	He hesitated a moment then told me, "Me and Dave have been doing it
since high school. I'm not sure about Carl, but Tuesday, Cody was watching
you drink the other guy's pee and rubbing his cock. It was turning him on
and I think he'd go for it."
	"You and Dave? I thought he was from Scottsdale?"
	"We went to different schools together."
	When he saw that confused me, he explained how they'd met working
for Jim's uncle one summer while they were still in school. That fall Jim
had been a receiver on his high school football team and Dave had been a
defensive back on his and they'd met several times during the game when
Dave would tackle him. Then the following summer they'd worked for his
uncle again and had become good friends. "His brother has a lease on an
apartment near ASU and is moving out this summer. Dave and I are going to
take over the lease."
	"Neat. You'll be able to party all the time!"
	"Yeah, we'll do some of that I'm sure. I'm just looking to be away
from my parents and Dave can't wait to wear diapers whenever he wants."
	I wasn't sure I'd heard right. "Dave wants to wear diapers?" He
seemed to wet his pants more than any other guy on the crew and made sure I
was always aware of it. I wondered if he had some weird medical problem,
but Jim explained he didn't.
	"He loves them. I know it sounds weird but he's gotten me to try it
a couple of times and it . . . it's kind of neat. You know how it feels
good when you cut loose in your shorts at work? Well wearing a diaper is
like that and the feeling doesn't stop. Dave's got a roommate now that
doesn't like him to do it. But I don't care as long as he doesn't scare the
chicks away." Then he rolled up on one elbow and brought his other arm
across so he could rub my chest through the nightie. He tweaked my nipples
and told me, "Speaking of chicks. I'm not teasing you or anything so don't
take this wrong. You really could be a good looking girl if you decided to
dress like one."
	"Might be fun," I told him, "But I don't think my folks would like
it at all. I think they're pretty happy having just one daughter and one
son."
	"Yeah, but just think," he said, as his hand drifted down to begin
playing with my panty covered prick. "If you could pass as a girl, you
could pick up guys, suck their cocks, and they'd never know."
	I started to protest that I wasn't all that interested in finding
cocks to suck, but that would have been a lie and one he'd see through. I'd
never stopped fondling Jim's cock and still had it in my hand. And the way
I'd perked up when he'd mentioned sucking all the guys on the crew – that
had to have been a giveaway too. So I told him a partial lie. "The only
cock I want to suck is yours."
	He was still laying on his side, his face inches from mine. He gave
me another of those smiles with a wink and told me, "Don't let me stop
you."
	That sounded like an invitation to me, and since his cock had
swelled in the last few minutes to more than fill my hand, as surprised as
I was to see he was ready again so soon, I wasn't about to pass on an
opportunity. With renewed lust I moved into position to mouth his prick.
	This time was different. The last time he'd been hard and drooling
pre-cum when I started. This time his dick wasn't but half-hard and as I
sucked and licked, I enjoyed the thrill of it growing in my mouth. I wasn't
sure where my sexual future was headed, but I knew for sure that a cock in
my mouth would always be at least a part of it.
       Yet even as I sucked, my mind wondered about what it would be like
to do something like this to a woman. I was a seventeen year-old virgin,
weeks from being eighteen, and what appeared to me at times as being light
years away from ever getting laid. Aside from the obvious physical
differences, I wondered how a woman would feel if I were to use my mouth to
pleasure her. I'd heard all the usual teenage bull-shit about eating pussy
– some of it good and some of it bad. I had to accept the word of my
supposedly more experienced friends as I had no experiences of my own to
use to judge whether or not they were telling the truth. I wondered, if the
day ever came when I'd find a woman that would let me, if I'd find eating
pussy to be anywhere near as exciting as I found sucking a cock to be. Then
I wisely decided to worry about that at some other time and devote my full
attention to the incredible sexual experience of sucking a cock and making
it explode with joy in my mouth. And maybe, if I was lucky and did a good
job and Jim's bladder wasn't completely empty, he'd have some pee for me to
drink too.



       In a round about sort of way, that old fruit jar from Jim's truck
played a part in my getting that first experience with eating pussy that
I'd been thinking about. If you want my sissy friend Amber to tell you
about that, or of the experiences I had because of my sister catching me in
her panties, be sure to let `her' know.

Amber_Fountaine@hotmail.com