Date: Wed, 25 May 2016 16:50:06 -0700
From: Jon Hold <jonhold@earthlink.net>
Subject: Fisher Boy

Fisher Boy
by Jon Hold
<jonhold@earthlink.net>
Copyright©2013 by the author




This was the beginning of a much longer story that got ignored too long. It
is (very) incomplete.



Damn he was good looking. My neighbors grand-nephew was visiting for the
summer, and making me crazy seemed to be his purpose in life. Just
graduated from High School and headed for college in the Fall, Tamas was an
outgoing, full of energy, up and at 'em sort of kid. His aunt was in her
eighties and didn't mind what he did as long as she didn't have to try and
keep up.

Early this morning he came knocking at my back door. Now, I'm the sort of
guy that leaps out of bed at the crack of noon whether he needs to or
not. Answering the door ten minutes after I'd gotten into bed was not my
idea of a great idea.

"Good mornin', Mr. Hold. Beautiful day, isn't it! Do you mind if I go
fishin' in your pond again?"

Glaring hazily from under beetled brows, I mumbled some sort of response
and waived him off towards the lake before shuffling back off to bed,
totally oblivious to being stone stark naked and that he was eyeballing me
with more than a little interest.

When I finally woke up on my own abut 11AM, I made myself some cocoa and
fried eggs, a favorite easy breakfast. I was taking care of the place for a
friend and his family who were off to Europe for a year or five. The whole
property was over 2,000 acres of lush trees and thick underbrush with a
sizable lake on the West side. The property was posted and quite remote.
There had never been a problem with trespassers. Well, not until a certain
18 year-old boy fell in love with the the lake.

I sat my breakfast down on an old table I'd moved out onto the screened-in
porch and picked up my old Navy spotting binoculars to check on the kid.
Apparently, his idea of "fishin'" was lying naked on the board seat of the
old green rowboat, soaking up the sun. He made a beautiful piece of
landscaping that I intended to enjoy watching as I ate. This morning my
breakfast sort of just laid there and got cold.

Seems as though our boy Tamas had discovered the wonders of playing with
his stiff dick in the warm sun. From what I could see the soon-to-be
college boy had a perfectly respectable piece of meat. Nicely thick, it
laid on his belly, reaching up to his bellybutton as his fingers teased and
fondled his pride and joy. The boy leaned back with his elbows on the side
of the boat and watched his dick as he made it dance and bounce across his
belly. Then he turned and looked directly at me and put a huge, shit-eating
grin on his face. Bouncing his dick up and down for emphasis, the
good-looking hunk licked his lips and then touched the end of his nose with
the end of his tongue.

I went to my bedroom to dress, my breakfast totally forgotten.

-----

I was feeding the livestock when that shining grin walked into the barn
trailing the 6' 2" hunk it was attached to. "Hi, Mr. Hold. Sorry about
waking you up so early. I forgot that you sleep late." He sort of looked
around the old barn and hesitated before going on. "They're going to have a
dance in town Saturday night. You got any chores around here I could do to
earn a couple of bucks?"

I'd been wanting to clean out the barn and get rid of some of the fire
hazards. Having some help sounded like a good idea. We cut a deal where
he'd work for me for the rest of the week and I'd pay him whatever I
thought the work he'd done was worth. Worked out that Tamas would start
early in the morning on whatever I'd told him needed doing the night
before. When I got up I'd make lunch and Tamas would take a break and eat
with me. Then we'd go down to the barn and work together for the rest of
the day. It was hot weather and the boy mostly worked in a pair of cutoffs
and a pair of old boots. He worked hard, but what impressed me the most was
that he worked smart.

When it got too hot in the afternoon we'd take a break and go down to the
lake. We'd swim and lay in the cool, high grass and talk. Like most country
boys we didn't bother with swim suits, just stripped to the buff and jumped
in. The boy was fucking gorgeous and I had a horrible time trying to
maintain my cool around him. Fat free and 100% beef. He had been
circumcised, but that didn't detract from his natural beauty. It just left
a truly beautiful cockhead exposed. His pubes consisted of a thin line of
hair reaching down from his perfect little bellybutton and a smallish patch
of dark hair centered on either side of his thick shaft. He carried his
largish balls high which kept his five or six inches of limp cock pushed
well forward which, I guessed, is why he always showed such a nice
basket. Erect, his little toy was eight or nine (eight, I just measured)
inches of bone, looking for a hole to puncture. Being eighteen and healthy,
his boner made fairly frequent appearances. He was pretty much
unselfconscious about it, swimming or walking about as if the thing wasn't
playing periscope or leading the way. If he noticed that I was noticing it
he'd just pull on it and grin. He was proud of his thingie and happy when
another man appreciated what he had.

Eventually we'd head back up to the house and I'd make dinner. Sometimes
we'd get dressed and sometimes we'd just stay naked and enjoy the cooling
of the evening. He'd taken to spending the night three or four times a
week, I'm not sure whether his aunt or I ever really noticed until it was
entirely too late to discuss the subject. His aunt told me how the boy was
always talking about how I showed him to do this or that, that I had one
interesting thing or another. She said that her brothers daughter and her
husband never had time for the kid and that she thought our relationship
was wonderful. And anyway, the more time he spent with me the less she had
to worry about him.

Outwardly I complained about the kid interrupting my quiet lifestyle and
kept riding him about what a pain-in-the-ass he was. Actually, I hadn't
felt so alive in years and actually had a reason to wake up and get out of
bed. Plus, it was just nice having someone else around, full of vim and
vinegar, yet willing to be quiet at the right times.

One evening I was working in my den and Tomi was watching a movie in the
living room. I always left the den door open. Tomi could hear my quiet
cursing as I worked and I could hear his laughter and the munch, munch,
munch as his teenaged metabolism consumed popcorn, cookies, sandwiches, in
fact, just about anything not capable of running away from him. I went to
the bathroom to take a leak and when I returned Tomi was standing in front
of my computer screen with a permanent marker in his hand and his mouth
hanging open.

I'd gotten used to having Tomi around and hadn't bothered to blank the
screen before leaving the room. Tomi was staring at a picture of a very
good looking, very naked and very erect man --- and the story I was writing
about him. The guy in the picture was staring out of the screen at a
younger, better looking, nakeder and more erect man. I just got mad.

"What are you doing in my office?"

"Huh?" the somewhat dazed young man answered. "Oh! I mean," holding up the
permanent marker, "I wanted to mark my new gym clothes. --- Man! That's the
hottest shit I've ever read. Did you write that?"

"That's how I earn my spending money. So, who told you that you could come
in here and invade my privacy?"

"I know who YOU are! You're Jon Hold, the guy who writes for HandJobs
magazine and those others. Man, I love that magazine. I can jack off for
hours just reading the same issue over and over. I love it when those
Daddy's and boys really get going. I'd love to..."

He froze. turning from the screen to actually look at me. His face turned
bright red. He dropped the marker pen. "I'm, I'm sorry --- that is --- I
mean, uh..."

I just stood there, equally dumbfounded by his revelation. Equally
red-faced, though perhaps not for the same reason.

"Mr. Jon?" Tomi said timidly.

"Yes?" raspy, my voice heavy with barely suppressed emotion.

The somehow diminished boy turned his head to see the computer screen, "You
really are him, aren't you! You write all those neat stories about
men... and boys... and learning about sex... and all that stuff, huh!"
[And, before you think of it, NO, you CANNOT charge me for advertising!]

I just stood there staring... stupid... unwilling to believe that this was
real life and not some fantasy. Staring at the usually ebullient and
outgoing young hardbody who, so quickly, had become this quiet, subdued,
hesitant boy.

Four days he was quiet. Sitting for hours, dressed, in the old row boat,
staring at the water. Apparently he was eating and sleeping at his
Aunt's. He was doing his chores, but doing them while I was asleep. Late in
the afternoon of the fifth day he quietly came in the side door that we
usually used. He was wearing his tennie-sneakers, white tennis shorts and
an old sleeveless t-shirt. Leaving a backpack and a small suitcase in the
hallway, Tomi sat on the couch next to me. First slipping off his tennis
shoes, he cuddled up next to me, his head in my lap. This had become a
favorite TV watching position of ours.

"Mr. Jon?"

"Yes?"

"Can I be your boy?"

***** ***** We quietly stared at the forest through the big porch windows,
Tomas curled up warmly, me sitting there, thinking, stroking his soft,
thick hair. At peace with the world and each other.

Finally, I rubbed his shoulder and asked, "Tomi, do you know what it means
to be a man's boy?"

"Sure, Mr. Jon. I just got done rereading all your Handjobs stories and
even found a bunch of others on Nifty."

"OK. What does being a mans boy mean to you?"

"Well," Tomas said carefully. "It means you live with him and do what he
says."

"Yes, it means that. But, what does it mean to you, personally?"

"Well... I guess it means that I look up to you and try to be as good as
you are. That you'll be there to guide me and teach me and help me learn
what's right and what's wrong. That you'll watch how I'm growing and make
sure everything is OK. And, I guess part of that is seeing me naked, and
letting me see you naked. That you'll teach me about sex, how to be with
other people and how to use my body to make someone else happy and how to
let them make me happy. You know, Mr. Jon. You'll be there to help me grow
and be a good person."

We sat there for a long time, thinking, and being close. I finally hugged
him tight to me. "Well, I guess it wouldn't be all that bad having you
around here all the time."

Tomas punched me in the side, right under the short ribs. I "Oof'ed" and
jumped him. We'd wrestled before, but, somehow, never like that
evening. Tickling and pinching and rolling around all over the place,
bumping into tables and loosing bits of clothing as we twisted and turned,
helping each other until we were naked, groping and feeling of each other,
testing the depths of each-others mouths and the reach of our tongues. How
wonderful it felt to let loose and kiss. Deeply, passionately; testing each
other and silently agreeing that whatever we did together was OK. Was good,
and great, and wonderful, and—oh my goodness! Let's do that again.

He had a hysterical giggling fit when I first started kissing and sucking
in his armpits. Then he held me by the hair on the back of my head (of
necessity, there isn't any on the top of my head) and wouldn't let go until
I distracted him by slapping his hard buttcheek. His moment of startled
response gave me just enough time to suck his left tit into my mouth. To
put it into the vernacular, he lost his rabbit-assed little mind!
Apparently, having his flat little titties worked on was high on his
"Approved Acts" list. [Still is. I've sucked his titties so long and hard
that his tits look like something out of one of The Hun's drawings. I love
nursing on his tits and he loves anything I want to do with either or both
of his titties—or the rest of him for that matter.]

My young friend was definitely enthusiastic when I sucked his cock into my
mouth and tongued his cockhead. The second time I sucked him in he slid all
the way down my throat until my nose was bent over by his pubic bone. He
didn't actually know what the hell all that was about so he just bent up,
wrapped both arms around my head and shot every dram in his possession into
my throat. Eyes rolled up, quivering, shaking, and jerking uncontrollably,
he still managed to pull me off his cock before I totally passed
out—willing as I was to just stay there with his swollen cock stuffing
my face, totally blocking any air flow.

We kissed. Long, slow and sensually. Touching each other everywhere and
sharing the taste of what his cock had pulled up out of my throat and into
my mouth.

Some how, I don't know how much latter except that it was dark, we were in
my big bed. I had him on his back, holding his knees under his armpits as I
devoured his ass like a starving man might. He found an unused tube of KY
jelly in my bedside table and was applying a thick layer to my rampant boy
buster "Mr. Jon?"

"Ummmmm?"

"Do we need to use a rubber?"

I pulled my face out of the crack of his ass just enough to ask, "How many
people have you shared sex with?"

"Including you?"

Upset at having to back out from his butthole a second time, I said, "Of
course!"

"Well, let's see. There was... and... and of course... well, near as I can
figure, I guess, including you, that'ed total, uh?, well... let's see? I
guess that would be, including you, one!"

I bit him, hard, right on the inside of the asscheek rubbing against the
right side of my face.

He squealed and started complaining about what a brutish and ungrateful old
man I was.

I bit him again!

Then I slid up his sweat slickened body and lip-locked him as my blind eye
searched and found his winking eyelet. Thirty seconds later I was balls
deep in his luscious ass, quivering all over from the most massive orgasm
I'd ever experienced. Knowing, in my weakening mind that this was only
going to get better.

And it did. I stayed inside him ALL night long. Well... all night that is
except that half-hour or so where he reminded me of what it was like having
an eighteen-year-old using your buttcheeks for a trampoline. Not very
swavay but definitely de-boner. [Trying to play word games with "sauvé
and debonaire". I like the idea, but my spelling doesn't seem to work. If
you can fix it, good! Otherwise just toss it out. Thanks]

We spent the first part of the morning in the shower. Cleaning up and
sharing ourselves with each other. A weary, worn out war vet and an eager
to learn young man. Sharing hope, soap, and lust. No where near in that
order! As eager a young top as he was, he loved bottoming. I fucked
him... OK, at first I did fuck him. At first. Then, right in the middle of
some heavy, passionate kissing:

"Tomi?"

"Yes, Mr. Jon?"

"You save your money for when you need it. I'll take care of your schooling
and stuff. You're my boy now!"

"Yes, Daddy!"



-----
We believe that we are Marines until we die. At that time, we become Dead Marines.
     ---Steve Eslin