Frightening Facade

Life had not been kind to Chris Peters. He'd been born with a grossly deformed skull. Many painful surgical procedures followed. The surgeons managed to correct the shape of his head but not his distorted features.

Growing up had been a nightmare. People pointed at him in the street. Young children screamed and ran away from him while older kids jeered and laughed at the boy they called 'the freak'.

Chris' parents had tried to give him a normal home life. Teachers soon realised the boy had above average intelligence. They encouraged him to learn while trying to suppress their overwhelming feelings of pity for him.

When the disfigured youth turned sixteen, he started lashing out with his fists at anyone who came near him. He was sent to a juvenile psychiatric facility. Sedatives were used like a chemical straight-jacket, to restrain him.

Tom Phelong was a good looking 30-year-old attendant at the facility. At first he pitied Chris but when Tom got to know him better, the attendant realised that beneath Chris' frightening facade lurked a gentle soul.

The heavy medication made Chris feel like he was fighting his way through layers of cotton wool. Yet, of all the staff at the facility, he communicated with Tom the best. At night, the youth often dreamed about the attendant.

Every day started with the same routine.

"Time for your shower, Chris", Tom said.

The attendant helped the youth through to the bathroom. Chris allowed the man to undress him and then got under the jet of warm water. The attendant used a flannel to wash Chris' uncut penis.

"Turn around".

As soon as the flannel touched Chris' bottom-hole he said quietly: 'Rape!' They both laughed.

"Smack your bum?"

"Y-yes please".

The youth pushed his glorious bottom up and the attendant gave both firm mounds a few gentle slaps.

"H-harder".

Tom obliged with two swats which left red handprints on each pink cheek. Chris laughed with delight at the familiar game. He stood upright.

"Now we better get you dry".

All the time he was working with Chris, Tom told the youth that he was a handsome young man blessed with a body like a Greek God. Well-meaning psychiatric nurses used professional jargon to say the same self-affirming sentiments. Chris trusted Tom because he spoke from the heart.

"Once we get you out of here you'll have the pick of the girls".

"N-no", Chris said, "I'm q-queer - like you".

"Pick of the boys then", Tom replied, feeling more than a little flustered by his patient's candid insight. He helped Chris back to his favourite chair in the dayroom.

In the months that followed, Chris' medication was gradually reduced and then stopped altogether. He kept his fists to himself. The facility decided to release him back to the care of his parents. Tom felt tearful as he watched Chris leave. Then the attendant shrugged his shoulders and went to help whichever patient in the busy dayroom needed him the most.

Five years went past. One night Tom left the facility intending to walk the short distance to his apartment. A menacing figure loomed out of the shadows. There had been a spate of gaybashings and the sight of the big man in the motorbike helmet made the attendant very afraid.

"Relax, Tom. It's me..."

The voice was deep and gentle. He took Tom's arm.

"..Chris".

The man flicked the helmet visor back revealing the familar disfigured face.

"Chris!" Tom's voice shook. "How lovely to see you!"

"You reckon?" Sardonically.

"Yes".

They talked for a while and then Chris gave Tom a lift back to his place. The attendant climbed off the Triumph's pillion-seat.

"Would you like to come in?"

"Sure".

Chris settled into the one comfortable chair in Tom's apartment. The men caught up with each other's news. Chris was employed as a motorcycle courier. The obligatory helmet provided an effective mask for him. He lived in a halfway house for former psychiatric patients.

"And what about you Tom?" Chris asked. "You still queer?"

"Yes" He paused for a moment. "You?"

Chris nodded. "Not that I've ever done anything. With another man I mean". He shrugged. "Being the way I am".

"Hell, Chris, what a fucking waste. I think you're gorgeous".

"You're not so bad yourself".

Both men stood up and Tom kissed Chris right on his twisted mouth. Their tongues explored each other.

"Come to bed". It was a command not a request.

"And if I don't?" Chris' voice was teasing.

"I'll do you right here on the floor".

Tom put his arm around Chris and they went into the bedroom. They undressed each other, letting their clothes fall onto the carpet.

"Always wondered what that big bulge was in your white pants. Now I know".

"Sssh".

The men lay on the bed licking each other's dicks. Then Chris took Tom's member right inside his mouth. His warm, moist tongue caressed Tom's pulsating shaft. When he came up for air, Tom returned the favour until Chris' shot his load down Tom's throat.

"I need to feel you inside me".

Tom looked at Chris' beautiful bottom. He explored the crease with a finger and then penetrated the hot, tight tunnel within. Chris' sphincter muscles swirled around the older man's finger. Tom withdrew and then used lube until he could pentetrate the virgin fundament with two fingers.

"Do me doggy style. Then you won't have to look at...".

"Shhh".

Tom rolled Chris onto his back and pushed his legs up in the air. Chris was supported by a pillow.

Tom slid a Durex over his penis and then pressed the mushroom-shaped head against Chris' bottom-hole. Tom leant over and passionately kissed the younger man as though his was the most handsome face in the world. He felt Chris relax so pushed the head of his big dick inside that incredibly hot, tight tunnel. He kept pushing until he was fully inside.

"You're crying", Tom said as he froze. "Am I hurting you that much?"

"No! It's because you're the only man who ever cared enough to ... "

"I know".

Tom cradled the younger man in his arms and kissed him again and again. When Chris was ready, Tom started thrusting into his chute, slowly at first but then faster - until his penis swelled and then ejacqulated, deep in Chris' bowels.

Afterwards, the men cuddled on the bed.

"Do you have to go somewhere, Chris?"

"Go?" The sleepy voice sounded puzzled. "But I've only just come home".

That made Tom the happiest man alive.

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written by unclesteve