Date: Fri, 18 Jun 1999 00:08:55 -0600
From: jwhstloo@ix.netcom.com
Subject: "Fiance Pants" (Adult/Youth)

STORY: "Fiance Pants" (Adult/Youth))
by Jack Fellowes
Copyright 1998 by the author

USUAL WARNING: Too young? Too old? Too tight-assed? Living where you
don't have the freedom to decide what you want to read, no matter how
old you are? Looking for evidence to support your stereotypical notions
about the depraved homo-seck-shual lifestyle? Then just go away!
Otherwise, read at your own risk and/or pleasure.


"Hey, there's the *baby* of the family! How's it going, *baby*?" My
sister's fiance was smiling, but the edge he put on the word 'baby' made
me feel just a little uncomfortable. Not mad, just funny.

I was just hanging out in our backyard when he came back along the
driveway to the back porch. After his little greeting to me, and my
half-hearted grunt in response, he went on in the back door. If my
sister had been with him I would have followed them inside.

Nobody used our front door. It was, like, in the back door, right into
the kitchen, and that's where most people stayed during their whole
visit. Maybe it was because Dad was probably asleep in the living room
with the TV on, and Mom was always making something good in the kitchen.
She specialized in baked desserts. And she was awake, which made her
100% better to talk to than Dad.

Dick (Dick Kirkevan, my sister's fiance) just confused the hell out of
me. When my sister was around, he fawned over me like he was my own
brother. (That's probably a bad comparison, because my brothers, long
since married and gone from home, didn't fawn at all.) Dick would toss
me around, and wrestle with me, and play catch, and take me along when
he and Joanie went to the lake to swim, or down to the Dairy Queen to
get sundaes.

He was always squeezing my skinny 12-year-old body in a bear hug with
his strong, muscular arms wrapped around me, or tossing me over his
broad shoulders like a sack of grain and running while I bounced
vigorously. At the lake, when he was wearing only his loose boxer-style
trunks, I was always getting my face mashed into his hairy chest or
back. Sometimes after a wrestling session, I felt like I had rug burns.
But, strangely, I liked it. And he knew I liked it, because his hand
sometimes bumped against my hard-on, which had grown a lot, I thought,
over the last year, and fortunately was hidden from general view by my
baggy shorts. He'd whisper in my ear, something like, "You get turned on
by all that skin-to-skin contact, don't you, little sissyboy? You like
rubbing up against a man."

He'd never say anything like that when my sister could hear it. She
thought we got along like real brothers. Family was really important to
her--and to me, too, I guess--and she kept telling Mom how lucky she was
to have found a nice, handsome guy like Dick who really liked kids.

I loved my sister, but she didn't have a clue. I was the youngest at 12
(My brothers, both married, always teased me that I was an accident, the
result of a leaky rubber.), and Joanie, the only other one of us kids
still at home, was the next youngest. Even though she was 20, sometimes
it seemed like she was the kid.

It wasn't really obvious to everyone, but I could tell there was a
difference between how Dick treated me when she or any of the rest of
the family was around, and when he was alone with me. He was putting on
a show for them, and he had them convinced he was Sir Galahad. Somehow,
I just knew he wasn't as good as he seemed on the outside.

Even though I felt that he was putting me down when he said things like
the 'baby' thing, I had another problem. He was right about me--that
skin-to-skin contact did turn me on. I could barely wait until the next
time he started playing around. I didn't understand it, but I also got
turned on just looking at him.

I think his family was Dutch or something like that. He was 29, just
about six feet tall, around 170 pounds, with wide shoulders and a chest
that tapered down to a narrow waist and slim hips. He never wore jeans
or tight pants; it was always pleated slacks or overalls or
loose-fitting shorts or bathing suit, like he didn't want anyone to know
what was under there. Funny, though, he wore his shirts with the top
couple of buttons unfastened, to show off his chest and the thick mat of
hair that poured out of the vee of his collar. His arms and legs were
pretty well developed, and like I said, he was covered with hair, front
and back, and I guess all over, although I didn't really know for sure.
I just imagined what he looked like in that part I hadn't seen.

All that hair fascinated me. The only hairy guys I'd ever seen before
all had really dark hair, or gray if they were older. Dick had hair that
was not quite blond and not quite red, and it was the same color on his
head as it was on his chest or arms or legs. My family was all
fair-haired, too, kind of a dark brown or light blond, but my older
brothers were both smooth all over as far as I knew, and my Dad just had
the little patch between his nipples. Reddish-blond and hairy was a new
combination I'd never considered before.

The only negative thing I ever heard my sister say about Dick was, "He
sheds on my dark sweaters." That cracked me up, and if I'd had the
nerve, I would have ribbed him about it when he made one of his snide
remarks to me. But I was a little afraid to get too smart with him.

I just figured he was the kind of guy who needed to have the upper hand,
and I guess I really didn't mind letting him have that advantage over
me. It was okay as long as I knew I had something I could come back at
him with, even if I never did say it. I guess I figured it was part of
being a kid, being put down or bossed around.

In spite of all the time I'd spent with Dick and my sister, or with him
and the rest of my family, I'd never really been alone with him except
for those rare times like when he passed by and saw me alone in the
backyard or on the porch, and made some smart remark.

I guess how I felt about him was like a dilemma.

I wanted to be around him. He made me feel a good kind of funny,
especially when he touched me, and a bad kind of funny, which was kind
of like he knew something about me nobody else did.

I daydreamed about touching him where he had touched me--a couple of
times, I thought I felt something hard against my butt when he gave me a
bear hug. But he never pressed tight against me there, like he did with
his chest. I wanted to see if he was hairy all over, and I dreamed about
rubbing my naked body all over his. And I just wanted to be hugged by a
strong man like him. My 110-pound, five-foot-six-inch body seemed to fit
in his furry embrace. It was kind of like we were made for each other
that way.

But I also felt... I don't know... uneasy? There was just something
behind his smile and friendly attitude that ol' Reverend Baker would
call 'sinister.' Dick scared me, but it was like the way horror movies
scared me--I just kept going back for more. And I never said anything
about how I felt to anybody, because I figured he was Joanie's future
husband, and it wasn't up to me to interfere. And I figured if I told,
he would stop playing with me and just leave me alone altogether. I
didn't want that, either.

***

The day of the wedding was getting closer and closer, and the more
wrapped up Joanie got in the preparations, the more time Dick spent with
me.  Mostly it was catch in the backyard or basketball in the driveway
by the garage, but then he started taking me along when he ran errands
for Joanie or Mom. I told myself I wanted to go along just to ride in
the front of his open Jeep, but it was more than that.

The first time we were alone together for more than an hour was when he
took me to the beach one Saturday morning. I did a lot of splashing
around, but he mostly just lay in the sun after getting wet just after
we got there. Finally I started getting tired, and I made my way back up
the beach where he was lying on a blanket.

I thought it would be cool to get right next to him and shake like my
dog did and get him wet. He wasn't asleep, though, and he grabbed me
before I could start to run. He tossed me down on the blanket and
started rolling me up in it. Then he straddled it and started tickling
me. I just went bananas, because I'm really ticklish, and I couldn't
defend myself because my arms were pinned at my sides by the tightness
of the blanket and where his knees squeezed together at my waist. I
couldn't see what was happening, because  my face was covered, too.

I finally managed to slide my hands up on my stomach, right between his
legs. I pushed against the blanket, but I couldn't move them very far. I
did feel something hard, though, and I was almost able to get a grip on
it. As soon as I tried, he rolled me over so I was face-down, scooted
down a little, and then just lay down on top of me. I could really feel
something hard then, on top and bottom. My aching hard-on was trying to
push through the blanket into the soft sand, and something a lot larger
was wedged right against my butt. The more I struggled to get free, the
harder and bigger it seemed to get. I just kept wiggling around under
him.

Finally, he just picked up the whole mess, me wrapped in the blanket,
and started walking down the beach to the water. He let fly, holding
onto one edge of the blanket, and I went sailing through the air,
landing with a huge splash in about a foot of water.

>From then on I lived with the expectation that something might really
happen between us. I didn't know whether it would be good or bad, but I
couldn't resist--I wanted to be there to see it and feel it when it did.
My body and my emotions were lunging ahead into the middle of that storm
called puberty, so it wasn't always easy for me to sort things out. I
had an uncertain, but very compelling feeling that Dick represented
something physical... no, sexual... that I needed to find out about.

About two weeks before the wedding, Dick and Joanie were supposed to go
to a party that some of her high school friends were throwing for the
two of them, and a bunch of her friends from college came and were
staying at our house. When it came time for everybody to start getting
ready for the party, it was decided (nobody told me who decided it) that
I would go with Dick over to his apartment while he got dressed. I guess
they figured it would keep me out of the way while all those girls were
trying to use our only upstairs bathroom.

I had never really been inside Dick's apartment, although I knew where
it was, because we'd stopped out front a couple of times on our way to
lake or wherever while he ran in to get something. It was really cool.
It was the whole second floor of a big bungalow-type house, and it was
all one room, except for the bathroom.

His double bed was on a platform, about eight inches higher than the
floor, on one side wall of the big room. There was another platform
under the front dormer windows, which was like the living room. And
there was a smaller platform under the back dormer, which was the
kitchenette. The other side was walled off, part of it bathroom, and the
rest walk-in closet.

He flipped on the TV, and I was watching cartoons while he went into the
bathroom to shave and start getting ready. He was wearing his regular
baggy pants and a white undershirt when he went in, and I was surprised
to see he was still dressed that way when he came out.

I watched him out of the corner of my eye as he went to the closet and
got a pair of dark slacks, a white shirt, a tie, and light blue summer
sport coat. He walked across the room and laid them on the foot of the
bed. Then he really surprised me and, right out in the open, started
unfastening his pants. He loosened the belt buckle and unbuttoned the
waist button. Then he stopped and took his undershirt off and tossed it
back across the room toward the closet door. His pants dropped down a
little and just hung around his hips. It didn't look like he was wearing
underwear, and I could see that the hairiness continued down his belly
below his navel.

By this time I guess I was just looking right at him and not trying to
hide it. He looked over at me and kind of smirked, but I just kept
looking. He grabbed his zipper tab and started to pull it down. He
didn't have to loosen it much before his pants just dropped down to the
floor. He was wearing a swim jock with a narrow waist band, and the
pouch looked like he was wearing a cup. It was really full and mounded
out in front. He picked up his pants and pivoted around toward the
closet, at the same time moving a little closer to where I was sitting.
He tossed the pants at the closet, and faced me.

"Get ready, brat. I'm going to show you what you've been wanting to see
for months. I may even let you touch it." He took a couple of steps
closer to me, and slid a thumb under the waistband at each hip. He
pulled the waist out a little and down far enough that I could see the
thicker hair at his crotch. He took another couple of steps toward me.
"Watch closely, little boy, you'll never see anything like this again,"
he sneered, "and you'll sure as hell never have one of your own like
this!"

He laughed without sounding like he was joking, and kept moving toward
me, not stopping until he stepped up on the platform and stood right
next to the chair I was sitting in. "Here it is, punk!" he said and
shucked off his jock, letting it fall to the floor. He stepped out of it
and stood with his knees right against the arm of my chair.

I was paralyzed. His dick, still soft and swinging back and forth, hung
almost halfway down his thighs! It wasn't what I had imagined--it was so
much more! I just stared. He reached down with one hand and grabbed it
around the middle of the limp shaft and flipped it at my face. He leaned
closer and started swinging it from side to side, slapping me on one
cheek and then the other. Each time the big circumcised head hit me, it
felt a little harder. Still I couldn't move.

Finally he took his hand away and just swiveled his hips back and forth.
His dick was now standing out by itself, and it kept hitting me in the
face harder and harder. My cheeks hurt, but I just couldn't move.
Suddenly he stopped and stood back a little with his huge dick pointed
right at my face. I couldn't tear my eyes away. I looked right into the
little mouth at the end of the head, which was leaking clear fluid.

It surprised me when he grabbed me by the chin, his thumb and fingers
pinching into my cheeks, forcing my mouth open. He just leaned into me,
and his dick slid between my lips all the way to the back of my mouth. I
gagged and started to choke. He stopped pushing forward, but didn't try
to take it out. He held my head still. And for some reason, I didn't try
to pull away.

When I settled down, he slowly started rotating his hips a little, so
the head of his dick slid around inside my mouth. As he did, I started
to salivate and drool "That's it, you little cocksucker, work up a good
spit. Get my big cock slick enough to slide down your hot little throat.
I'm going to give you a face-fucking you'll never forget. I'm going to
give you what you've been asking for ever since I've know you!" His
voice sounded scary, but hypnotic.

I know I was afraid of what would happen, that I would choke to death,
but I couldn't control my body. I couldn't... didn't dare... didn't want
to move. I wanted to know what it was like. I didn't care if it hurt me
or killed me. My friends and I had talked about blow jobs, and I'd
dreamed about giving one--I had *never* dreamed about getting one. Maybe
Dick was right.

His hand slid around from my chin to the back of my head, and he started
to pull my head toward his crotch, my mouth impaled on his huge cock.
The swollen head popped through the narrow opening into my throat.
Despite the angry edge in his voice, he was surprisingly gentle but firm
as he slowly pushed his huge organ deep into my throat in one long,
gradual movement.

I hadn't taken a breath since he began, and I started to panic until I
found out I could draw a little air in through my nostrils and down into
my lungs, probably because the thick shaft was not round. It was wide
and flattened on the top, with almost a sort of channel running down the
length of it. The channel ran from just behind the big flared head all
the way to his pubic hair.

That's where I was headed, right down to his pubic hair. I couldn't
believe he pushed that whole giant cock down my throat! He just held me
there for a while, my nosed crushed against his pubic bone. Then he
sighed and pulled out, a lot faster than it had gone in. I gasped loudly
and sucked in several deep breaths when his dick left my mouth.

Then he was roughly pulling me out of the chair toward the bed, yanking
my t-shirt over my head, and jerking my pants down my legs. He tossed me
on the bed, face-down, and ripped my briefs off. "You got what you've
been wanting, you little whore," he hissed at me. "Now I'm going to get
what I've been wanting since the first time I grabbed your sexy little
ass!"

He sat on the edge of the bed and held me down with a big hand in the
middle of my back and with the other hand he spread my legs and reached
under to feel my dick. "I knew it!" he said. "You've had a hard-on for
me all summer, and your little prick is hard now. I'm going to show you
what a man's big hard dick can do to a little boy's asshole.."

He pulled his hand out from under me, and I heard him work up a spit and
let it drool down into the crack of my ass. He spread it around with one
finger and started working it roughly around my hole. He spit again and
added another finger. I was crying and he told me to shut up, using one
hand to push my face into the bedspread. At the same time, his fingers
popped into me and I let out a stifled scream But I stopped when I felt
the intense sensations of his fingertips mashing into my prostate.

The mattress dipped down as he got up on his knees and straddled my
legs. I started sobbing louder as I felt him push the wide head of his
dick against my little hole. He pushed against me, and nothing happened.
He spit down on my hole again, and pushed harder. The pain got worse. I
sobbed louder. Dick slapped me hard on the buttocks, and just dropped
his full weight down on me. His cock plunged into my guts until I felt
his belly slap against my ass cheeks. I let out a muffled scream when I
felt the sharp, tearing feeling deep inside me. After a couple of
seconds, he started pumping his dick in and out of my hole.

When he pulled out, I thought he was pulling my insides out with him.
Every time he pushed in, I could only whimper loudly. He stopped trying
to keep me quiet and just started fucking me faster and faster. Each
time he hit bottom I screamed weakly. He was panting loudly and hissing
in my ear, "Take it, you little tramp! Take my big dick in your tight
little ass! Oh, yeah, you're better than your sister, you little
pussyboy." He started to moan loudly, almost whining, as he fucked me
even faster.

The only sounds either of us could hear were the uncontrollable noises
we were both making. Faster and faster he pumped until he suddenly
slammed into me all the way and kept pushing, as if trying to drill in
deeper. I screamed as loud as I could at the intense pain and shocking
warmth inside my abdomen. His moaning became a wild animal's howl as he
lurched and spasmed and exploded inside me in pulsing ejaculations.

At that same moment we heard a woman's voice scream, "Oh, God! What are
you doing? No! No! Stop it!" Joanie leapt on Dick's back and tried to
pull him off me. She was yelling and scratching his back and neck. "You
bastard! You filthy bastard! Leave him alone!"

He rolled off me, his softening dick pulling out of my asshole with a
pop. Joanie grabbed me up and half-carried me to the bathroom, closing
and locking the door behind us. She helped me into the shower and turned
the water on. I was too numb to be embarrassed, and she was too
concerned. She helped me dry off and then made me lean over the toilet
seat. She carefully inspected my bleeding asshole, washed it, and gently
applied some first aid cream she found in the medicine cabinet. Then she
wrapped me in a clean towel.

"Get ready to lock the door behind me," she said, carefully opening the
bathroom door and peering out. Dick was gone, so she led me out and
helped me get my clothes on, and made sure I looked presentable. All the
while, she kept asking me if was going to be all right. I just grunted
and sort of nodded yes.

I still didn't know how I felt, inside. Before Joanie led me out, I
glanced over at the bed where I had been lying. There was a large wet
spot on the spread where my dick had been pressed into the mattress. He
made me cum!

Joanie made sure I was okay before she took me home. She wouldn't
explain to anybody why she canceled the party, or why Dick just
disappeared, or why the wedding was off. Because I wasn't visibly
bruised, everybody attributed my unresponsive mood at that time to
disappointment that I had lost my buddy, Dick. A few days later, when
Joanie was sure there was no lasting physical damage, she made me
promise never to tell anybody what he'd done to me. At the same time she
told me that if I ever felt I needed to talk about it, she had a
psychology teacher who could help me handle my feelings. I just felt
empty.

We both survived. Joanie decided to finish college after all, and she
ended up marrying the psychology prof. He did help me understand how I
felt, and he treated me like a real client and didn't tell Joanie when
we finally figured out over the next few years that I was gay and that I
was submissive.

***

This was a true story. I've changed the names and details to protect
the... guilty. I ran into Dick a few years later when I got my first
summer job away from home. It was during summer break from college after
my freshman year.

Dick seemed honestly happy to see me and was surprisingly nice, if a
little tentative. I asked him to go to a little cafe close to where I
worked, and we talked for a long while. He told me he'd been married and
divorced a couple of times, but he'd never had any kids of his own.

The story I'd heard from a guy back home who used to work with him was
that Dick's second wife had a couple of teenage kids--a boy and a
girl--and that his wife kicked him out when she caught him messing
around with both of them. Dick just couldn't seem to avoid getting
caught.

After we'd talked for a while about not much at all, he looked away from
me and got quiet. I studied his face and body. Dick hadn't changed much,
and he still wore baggy, pleated pants that hid what he had between his
legs. Then he said, only half-looking at me, "You know, I didn't make
you do anything you didn't want to do, and I didn't mean to hurt you.
But I could tell you wanted it and you needed it. I guess I did, too,
more than I thought."

I leaned across and rested my hand on his forearm, still muscular and
still hairy. "Dick," I said, "I still *do* want it and need it." He
looked at me questioningly, and I answered him with my eyes.

I wasn't confused about my feelings anymore. I was now almost as tall as
Dick, and about the same weight, but I knew he was the top, I was the
bottom. He wasn't really gay, just sexual, any-kind-of-sexual. He sure
as hell still turned me on. I'd come to realize I needed to be dominated
by a man like him in order to be satisfied. When we ended up back at his
apartment, a pretty ordinary place but with a king-size waterbed, he
satisfied me again and again and again all through that afternoon and
night. At least this time, he told me to tell him if the pain was too
much to handle.

The aches and pains and hair-burns I took to work with me for the next
few days were more than worth it. They provided me with a vivid reminder
of an experience--no, two experiences, almost eight years apart--that I
conjure up anytime I need a jack-off fantasy. I just need to figure out
whether I will ever repeat the experience...


(THE END)


(Send comments, gentle and helpful criticisms, and especially all sorts
of gushing praise and offers of sexual favors to:
jwhstloo@ix.netcom.com)