Kindness of Strangers Ch. 02

"Please, sir---PLEASE DON'T DO THIS!" I begged him.

He slapped me hard across the face knocking me to the floor.

"You know damn well what happens when you defy me, faggot---get your ass on the bed---NOW, BOY!!"

I stumbled up the steps to the loft and threw myself on my stomach. I buried my face in the pillow and waited.

The worst part is hearing the WHOOSHING sound just before the belt strikes my buttocks. The pain is always excruciating. By the time he was done, my ass was on fire, and I was balling like a baby into the pillow.

His hands lifted my hips from the bed, his legs forced mine apart, and he was inside me immediately---no lube, he didn't even spit on his cock to ease the way. He fucked me a good five-minutes before he shouted and filled my pussy with his gruel. He then used my hair to wipe his cock clean.

My shame and humiliation was complete!

I lay there quietly crying, listening to him pissing. When he was done I heard him say, "Oh my, what is this? Hahaha---you're not only a faggot---but a SISSY-FAGGOT at that!"

Oh no, he'd found the panties.

"What the hell? It's all crusty, boy---YOU BEEN CHEATING ON ME?!"

I blurted out, "NO-NO-NO, SIR---NOT AT ALL!"

The sneer returned to his face. He threw the panties at me and said, "Put'em on, boy!"

"Please, sir, I can explain!" I said, even though I didn't know what I would tell him.

"PUT-EM ON, BOY---I WANT TO SEE MY LITTLE SISSY-FAGGOT WEARING HIS PANTIES!!"

I had no choice but to obey him. The dried semen on the panties felt like sharp pin-pricks on my tortured buttocks.

He made me stand before him in the living room. The cruel smile never leaving his lips.

He checked his watch then said, "Think I'll stay here and watch the news, kid...go outside and wait til I'm ready for you again!"

I couldn't believe my ears. No-no---this can't be happening!!

"Sir, please---I can't go outside like this---pleeeeezzzzzzzz, SIR--NO..."

He sprung out of the chair so fast I couldn't protect myself. He grabbed my hair with one hand, opened the door with the other and forced me outside. I tripped on the bottom step and tumbled onto the gravel. Luckily, my hands broke the fall before I suffered any serious injuries. He shut the door and I heard the lock turn.

I lay nearly naked on the rocks and stones mortified beyond comprehension. There was no where to run to---no place to hide. It was impossible for me to grasp the sheer cruelty of his actions. This was beyond anything he'd ever done to me before.

I noticed the silence---the children were no longer playing and laughing. I lifted my head and glanced all around...not a single child in sight. I was positive the screams from my trailer had frightened away the kids. I didn't even see any adults.

I was horrified, ashamed and wanted to die right then and there. I had sometimes wondered if my neighbors knew what went on in my trailer---now there was absolutely no doubt. They had to have heard Freddy the Asshole's loud and angry shouts and curses in the past and simply chose to ignore them, but this was different...the stillness in the park was eerie.

I had no idea what to do...I couldn't stay in plain sight wearing pink panties, but I couldn't pound on the door and demand he let me inside, either...that would surely be an ugly, and noisy scene.

Usually, I'm a clever and resourceful person, but now, I was totally at a loss...I was immobilized by fear and helplessness...and there is no other feelings in the world worse than those.

Sucking in a deep breath, I gingerly set my tortured buttocks on the bottom step, hunched-over and pulled my knees to my chest...I pretended I was invisible.

I heard the crunching of stones and out of the corner of my eye saw my neighbor and savior, Mrs. Jimenez walking toward me carrying a robe.

As I stood, she put a finger to her lips to caution me to be quiet and helped me put on the robe. It was a well-worn terry-cloth robe, almost threadbare, but it felt a hundred-times more luxurious than the robe I'd worn in San Francisco.

She placed her arm around my shoulders and guided me to her door on the other side of the trailer. Inside, her three grandchildren stared at me wide-eyed as they sat and devoured milk and cookies. She babysat the kids every day while their parents worked the nearby fields.

I soon heard male voices speaking Spanish outside the door; she went out and joined in, what sounded like, a heated conversation.

Shortly after she came back inside, we heard loud banging; Mrs. Jimenez peeked thru closed curtains, I stood behind her peering over her shoulder. I couldn't believe what I saw.

At least ten men, some carrying baseball bats, were outside the door of my trailer. One of the men pounded on the door and shouted at Freddy the Asshole inside.

He's not stupid enough to open the door, is he? I wondered. Of course he is, I said to myself when the trailer door swung open and he faced the men wearing only his boxers.

I didn't understand much of what was said...he argued with the men, and I thought I heard him say "Fuck off"...but I saw his face turn redder-and-redder until I saw actual fear in his expression.

He finally said, "OKAY-OKAY" and disappeared inside. Moments later he emerged from the trailer fully dressed and almost ran to his car. He spun the wheels spitting stones at the men...the men shouted curse words at him as he sped away.

"He not allowed here anymore...if he come back---he will be sorry!" said Mrs. Jimenez.

OH MY GOD, I thought. Once again I was helped-out by the kindness of strangers!

She walked me to my trailer and came inside. I took off the robe, gave it to her and thanked her profusely.

She glanced at the panties, and with a wry smile, and a wink of her eye said, "Yours prettier than mine!"

She good-naturedly chuckled at my red face and left me alone.

I immediately phoned my mother.

"Mom, you need to leave work NOW!!" I almost yelled into the phone.

"I'm not at work, dear, I'm at home---I'm on vacation," she said.

"OH GOD, MOM---GET OUT OF THE HOUSE BEFORE HE GETS THERE!" I did yell this time.

"What happened, dear?" she asked.

"Mom, please---get out of there and come over here---I'll explain when you get here!" I said frantically.

"Okay-okay---calm down, dear," she replied.

I almost jumped out of my skin when I heard the rapping on my door. I peeked thru the curtain and saw my mother. I locked the door as soon as she was inside.

I explained to her how loud and angry and abusive her boss had become---how the men in the park chased him out and told him never to come back. I DID NOT mention the belt-whipping, or the fact he'd thrown me outside wearing only panties.

"Mom..." I said quietly, "...I am so sorry he hurt you---I never meant for this to go this far...I didn't want him to show you the video...I'm not a prostitute, mom...I don't know why I took the money..."

She saw the tears rolling down my cheeks and took me in her arms.

"Sweetie, sit down, we need to talk!" she said.

She sat at one of the kitchen chairs and watched me lower myself gently onto the other chair. I couldn't help but grimace when my battered butt came in contact with the cushion.

"WHAT DID HE DO TO YOU?" she asked loudly.

I buried my face in my hands.

"What has been going on between you two, Johnny? HAS HE BEEN HURTING YOU?" her anger flashed-out in the open.

For three-long years I'd wanted to tell her everything---I wanted her to comfort me---to save me---but I was terrified and too ashamed to say a word. Now it spilled out of me like a flood...I told her everything...she listened to my story with mouth agape---astonishment and pain in her eyes.

She began crying, too. She took my hands in hers and repeated over-and-over "I'm so sorry, sweetheart---I'm so-so sorry!"

Finally, after wiping the tears from our eyes, we had out first real conversation in years. The weight of the entire world suddenly lifted from my shoulders. Her compassion and no-nonsense logic gave me hope and inspiration.

I told her about the belt-whipping and, the panties.

"How often did he use the belt on you, honey?" she asked softly.

"Oh, uh, not that much!" I lied. But the knowing look in her eyes caused me to add the word, "Enough..."

"He's not going to hurt you any more, dear...that sadist has to deal with me now!"

"Mom, he's got the video---he'll humiliate us---he'll have me arrested and thrown in jail!"

I saw the fire in her eyes. "If anyone goes to jail, sweetie---it'll be him! Don't you worry about a thing---I've got another week-and-a-half of vacation and I'm going to take care of him once-and-for-all!!"

"W-What are you going to do, Mom?" I asked in a trembling voice.

"He'll never bother either one of us again...why don't you order us a pizza, dear," she said with a glean in her shiny eyes.

"Okay, mom!" I answered with a renewed sense of hope and purpose in life.

"Sweetheart, I understand you have known you're gay for quite some time now..." she said while we were eating, "...but you've never been comfortable admitting it to friends, or talking about it with me...I hated the thought of you going to the park and meeting strangers---you could have been badly hurt---I should have stopped you!"

I was stunned. "You knew about that?"

"Yes, dear, I knew...but you were at a stage when I doubted you'd listen to me, and I didn't want to make you feel worse about it than you already did."

She added; "Darling, I hated you were growing apart from me...that we never had long talks like we used to...but I knew how much you were struggling with your lifestyle---how utterly embarrassed you were about your feelings for men, well, I thought if I allowed you to sort it out yourself you'd eventually find peace with it...I'm sorry, we should have had this talk a long time ago."

"Mom, you're right, I wouldn't have listened...nothing is YOUR fault---please don't feel this way!"

We finished the pizza in silence, but the mood in the room had lightened considerably.

"So dear, I hope you've met nicer men than THAT asshole?"

I saw the twinkle in her eyes and laughed.

"I have, mom..." I said. I decided it was time to be open and honest with her, "I, uh, I guess I've always been attracted to older men...I met a guy this past weekend in San Francisco---we had a great time together!"

"What do you look for in a man, dear? Looks? Personality?" she asked with a smile.

I smiled back at her. "I like to think I'm like you, mom...I don't care what they look like---just that they're nice, and they treat me with respect...of course, being a well-hung, handsome stud doesn't hurt, either!"

Her laughter is infectious. We laughed quite a bit the remainder of the evening.

"We better get some sleep, dear," she said around midnight. "I'll sleep on the recliner so you can lay on your stomach on the bed!"

We hugged. I said, "I love you, mom!"

"Sweetheart, I love you, too...don't ever think you can't talk with me about anything---I will always be here for you!"

"Thanks, mom!"

As I was walking to the loft she asked me with mock seriousness, "Sweetie, how in the world can you stand the taste of THAT man's nasty spunk?"

I turned, and with a straight-face said, "I pretend it's your ambrosia salad, mom!"

Her laughter has always been sweet music to my ears.

The next few days, mom stayed with me at night, and in the mornings, a friendly co-worker would call her when Freddy the Asshole arrived at work, then we were free to go about our lives.

I knew she was conspiring against her boss with two of her closest friends, but whenever I asked, she would say, "Don't you worry about a thing, sweetheart."

One afternoon I threw a load of clothes in the washer in the park's laundry room. When I returned to my trailer I needed to do urgent business in the bathroom. I was still performing this task when I heard mother come in the door (she always announced herself so I wouldn't think HE was coming inside).

We chit-chatted thru the bathroom door. I mentioned I had clothes in the washing machine. I heard her say, "Don't move, dear---I'll put them in the dryer." The laundry room key, and a pile of quarters were on the table.

She'd been gone a couple minutes when the hair on my neck stood straight and my mind screamed: OH NO---SHE'S GOING TO FIND THE PANTIES IN THE WASHER---SHE'S GOING TO THINK I'M A FREAK!!

I could hear her saying, "Dear, I know you're gay, but a cross-dresser, too?"

It wasn't long before I heard the door open and her voice calling out, "IT'S ONLY ME!" I wondered how long I could stay in the bathroom.

Grow up, John, and face the music! I finally told myself.

When I came out of the bathroom, I washed my hands in the sink then turned to look at her.

OH MY GOD---she was holding up the damp panties by the waistband showing them to me.

"What is this?" she sternly asked me.

My face turned three shades of red.

"Uh, well, I, uh..." I had no idea how to explain myself.

"Sweetheart," she said in her best scolding voice. "NEVER...machine-wash your unmentionables---they're far too delicate, and the colors will fade!"

Her expression softened; a small grin formed on her lips.

"You know," she said. "With all the excitement I haven't been able to wash my own underwear...I'll bring them here tomorrow and teach you how to do it properly, okay, dear?"

"Oh, uh, okay, mom," I replied; my face still red as a beet. What else was I going to say?

And I watched her rinse the pink panties under the faucet, squeeze most of the water from them; she then gave them to me saying, "Sweetheart, hang these over the shower rod to dry!"

I was simply mortified; all I could say was, "Yes, mom."

I wanted to tell her the panties were a special gift---that I did not wear women's underwear on a regular basis...but for some reason, I remained quiet.

The next afternoon she made good on her promise.

She came with her laundry bag, and a strange contraption. She unfolded the device and I recognized it to be a portable clothesline.

"Normally, dear, I hang my undies on the outdoor clothesline, but as long as you live here, you may want to use this..." she said as she set it up then placed a towel beneath it..

"Uh, oh, okay, mom," I quietly replied. This was so weird---totally embarrassing.

"Fill the sink with warm water, dear---not hot water---warm water!"

"Uh, okay, mom."

She showed me detergent. "This is 'Forever Now'...it is mild, and your underthings will smell nice..."

She showed me the proper amount to put in the sink. She then reached into the bag and pulled out a pair of red, lace panties and held them up for me to see. I was so embarrassed I felt my eyes get misty.

She dipped them into the soapy water and gently rubbed the material together. She then rinsed them and gave them to me to place on the clothesline.

The next pair of panties were pink, sheer and diaphanous. When she remarked, "Look dear, they're just like yours!" I wanted to crawl into a hole and die.

She stopped and said, "Here---you wash these!" and she forced the panties into my hands.

To my utter horror and humiliation, my prick twitched inside my briefs as I handled the sensuous fabric. I stood close to the sink so she wouldn't be able to see my growing excitement.

I performed the actions she had demonstrated, and she said, "Very good, dear---you catch-on quickly!"

When I reached into the bag for the next pair, I felt a crusty patch that seemed vaguely familiar...suddenly I suspected what had caused the crusty patch and my entire body grew hot with embarrassment and confusion.

"Now dear, whenever there is a stain, or dried fluids, sprinkle detergent directly on the stain and gently rub it out," she casually said without a trace of self-awareness.

I did as I was told all-the-while trying to grasp the concept that somehow, some strange man had left his mark on her underpants. UN-FREAKING-BELIEVEABLE!!

I felt her hand stroking my back as I hung the panties to dry.

"Sweetheart, you're doing so well I don't think you need my help anymore...I have to go meet Molly and Connie...I'll be gone for at least three-hours!"

THANK YOU, GOD! "Oh—okay, mom."

She opened the door, turned to me and said with a smile and wink, "Have fun, dear!" then she was gone.

What did she mean by that? I wondered, but of course, I knew what she meant.

I flashed-back to the day she caught me wearing her panties years ago. The shame and humiliation was overwhelming.

"Sweetheart, if you want me to, I will buy you your own panties...but, please, stop wearing mine, okay? They're, uh, getting stretched out of shape, and...,well, the stains are getter more difficult to wash out!"

Imagine your mother saying that to you!! From that day until Yoshi gave me the pink panties, I never as much as touched another pair. That's not to say I stopped looking at the underwear ads on the internet...I'm only human...

By the time I washed and rinsed the fourth pair of panties, I had such a raging hard-on it became uncomfortable in my tight shorts. I locked the door, and stripped-off the shorts. My boner pushed-out the briefs, but it felt much better.

I pulled out of the bag, yellow nylon panties with a yellow lace waistband. I absentmindedly stroked them a long time. I couldn't get enough of the smooth feel of the soft material.

My balls began to ache. I unconsciously reached down and squeezed my hard prick. It was becoming very hot inside the trailer so I took off the tee shirt I'd been wearing and stood at the sink in just my string, bikini briefs.

I was aware my breathing was labored. "John, please...control yourself, boy!" I said out loud. "Finish the job, damn-it!"

The last pair to wash were the worst. They were almost as crusty as mine had been.

OH MY GOD, MOTHER!! Is this from the same guy, or a different one?

Grow up, John. Your mother is an attractive woman, and still fairly young. Why would you think she DOESN'T have sex?

By the time I hung the panties on the clothesline, I lost all self-control.

I hurried to my underwear drawer, found the freshly washed pink panties, stripped-off my briefs and flung myself backwards onto the bed. I wrapped the panties around my throbbing prick and stroked away.

Ohhh God, YES! It had been way too long...

I knew it wouldn't take much time...I reveled in the exquisite sensations of the sheer fabric sliding rapidly up-and-down my hot flesh. My balls expanded and my hand became a blur on my cock.

"OH GOD---" I cried out, but caught myself in time before I really started screaming. The thin walls of my trailer did not hide any sounds from the outside world.

I removed the panties at the last possible second before my body lurched and shook and wildly gyrated on the bed as I stroked stream-after-stream of semen and sperm from my cockhead.

"Unnnggghhhhhh---yessssssss..." I groaned as quietly as I could.

When my breathing returned to normal, I found the Kleenex beside the bed and wiped the now-cold spunk from my belly and thighs. I needed another tissue to clean my softening penis.

I closed my eyes intending to nap, but instead of darkness, a parade of erect cocks and heavy, sperm-laden balls flashed before my minds eye...and I could identify all of them.

Oh, there's Billy's penis...and there's the first man I met in the park...oh yes, that beautiful dark chocolate is the guy I met in San Francisco last year...OH and there's Daddy's---nice---Yoshi, too...oh, look---there is Matusa's hard cock...and on-and-on-and-on...

I absentmindedly caressed my own prick into another full erection. I found the discarded panties and wrapped them around my flesh...another idea came to mind---I decided to wear them instead.

When they were in place on my hips, I pressed my boner against my belly, made sure my foreskin completely covered the glans, then lay on my stomach and began grinding my pelvis into the mattress.