Date: Wed, 25 May 2016 16:50:06 -0700 From: Jon Hold Subject: Fisher Boy Fisher Boy by Jon Hold 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