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