Date: Sat, 18 Dec 2004 16:06:33 -0800 (PST)
From: GH JUNKKIE <gh_professional@yahoo.com>
Subject: "A Christmas Present for Daddy", Pt 2

"A Christmas Present For Daddy"
Part Two

By gloryholeJUNKIE
gh_professional@yahoo.com


PREFACE:

This story was inspired while on a flight to Paris.

While strapping himself into a seat aboard Flt. 44 to Paris recently, the
author quickly noticed (like a pit bull on a child's arm) that one of the
flight attendants serving first-class was a surprisingly young male. (If
the age requirement for such work is twenty, then the crew must have been
hiding a birthday cake back in the galley for this kid)!

Additionally, as "the kid" fluently spoke both English and French, pointed
to well-lit doors, escape-hatch windows and dangling oxygen masks, it did
not escape the author's notice that this flight attendant also appeared to
be "extraordinarily competent" in the groinal region. Yup, this
fresh-scrubbed, lug-one-day-out-of-his-teens in an American Airlines flight
attendant uniform was packing meat "a mile high".

(One good thing about increased airport Security these days: You know for
certain that the massive, snaking mound within another guy's slacks sure
ain't "contraband").

By the way, at the age of forty-one, the author is considered by most who
"meat" him, to be a handsome, athletic, (early!!!!) middle-aged executive
type. (Whew! Clearly his inner "dirty old perverted coot" remains well
concealed from the general public).

And the kid's "everybody's dyin' to grab it" bulge didn't escape other
men's attention either. That's the "cool" thing about being a guy - we can
spot where other men's' eyes surreptitiously dart to when a slab of meat
like that walks by.  I witnessed several other men, some even seated next
to their wives, sneak a glance as the well hung "teen attendant" reached
over a shoulder here and there to adjust bags (!!!) overhead.

Therefore, (and surely you gentlemen will understand), throughout the
entire flight to Paris, the author made every effort to assure that his
left arm would be slung "casually" upon his armrest, "unawaredly" poking
into "aisle space".

This was done in a concerted effort to guarantee that each time this
"American" (Airlines) idol passed, (offering warm nuts and steamy moist
towels to various first-class men), the lad's young'n'hefty dark blue
uniform bulge could not but help but graze along (and even press into) the
author's "passively molesting" forearm. Interestingly, making one ask that
age-old male-to-male sex game question: "Was my arm molesting your
crotch...or was your crotch molesting my arm? (An issue we men grapple with
all the time).

But why (you ask) is the author relating all of this to his readers when
that "big-dicked junior varsity" flight attendant has absolutely nothing to
do with the story you are all currently enjoying? (Who knows!? 'Musta been
the author's inner "dirty old perverted coot" rearing his head again as he
simply thought you might like to hear about the AA kid's mouth-watering
crotch).

Indeed, though, this story, "A Christmas Present for Daddy", came to the
author when he was a first-class passenger on that same flight to
Paris. But instead, when not staring at or making numerous, lecherous
attempts to rub the young male flight attendant's, er, personal "carry-on",
the author also took note of the fact that his other, primary first-class
attendant - a very pretty Clairol blonde in her early thirties - appeared
to be rather "melancholic" (well, as much as flight attendants are
permitted by industry standards).

We'll call her "Fiona" as that's as good a flight attendant's name as ever
there was. She was my seat's designated attendant. And for those who fly
first-class, even in these troubled times, we know what that
means. Although these guys and gals are busy prepping passengers, hanging
suit bags, slamming overhead containers, counting plastic bottles of
one-gulp Vodka in the galley and checking mystery stuff with the crew in
the COCK pit, there always comes a time, usually early in the flight (which
the author likes to call "bonding time") when the flight attendant gets all
friendly with his or her assigned, primary passengers.

The airlines must refer to this "bonding time" as "Special Customer
Relations Hour". (Which is all rather confusing to the author as he always
thought of that as what happens when the pilots hit the men's room back at
the terminal, unzip and let all the guys ogle their aviator dicks as they
wag them at the urinals).

Anyway, at some point, after take off (but before the second drink),
invariably a flight attendant - your seat-designated flight attendant -
will lean against a seat or even take an empty one near you to "chit chat"
and be all "friendly". (This is why you hope the flight attendant
specifically assigned to your seat is the well-hung lad in bulging, blue
trousers).

As lady passengers will be the first to attest, although many of these gals
request to work first-class international flights only in order to
meet'n'marry a wealthy traveler (or just to fuck a navigator while over
Ohio on auto-pilot), most of the female flight attendants are professional,
courteous and have full lives back in their home port (they sound like
truckers, don't they??).

Psst: It's the male flight attendants that are the whores for daddy
cock. Just thought we'd let you know that should you be a married man, sort
of horny, six thousand miles from home and needing to squirt some cum into
a slutty hole real quick. Don't even bother with the women (you'll get
arrested before you get a date). Instead, odds are staggeringly in your
favor that you'll get some tail outta the male flight attendants.

There is the true story about the male flight attendant for Australia's
Quantas Airlines, an incredibly handsome (and cum voracious) blonde, who,
whenever on a lay over, was "laid over" by numerous men from any one of
hundreds of the flights he "worked". Just before de-plane-ing ("Boss!
De-plane-ing! De-plane-ing!"), he'd slip his apartment number in Sydney (or
on the other end, in Los Angeles) to each man traveling alone (most of them
married businessmen), saying, "In case you should need something while in
town...". Then, in the course of his two day lay-over, he'd kick back in
his apartment and have the cocks of half the previous flight's passenger
roster popping 'round his door to pump some cum into his butt. After all,
at least half the male passengers traveling in either direction didn't know
any other hot cumhole in the country. (And heck, he was duty-free, too)!

But, back to the inspiration for "A Christmas Present For Daddy"!

After traveling enough, one can quickly spot those flight attendants that
are happily married (they're the "fatigued" ones) versus those still hoping
that every handsome, affluent man they serve might be their "ticket
out". Yes, most flight attendants are just married moms earning a dollar as
they risk hijackings and varicose veins. (And which will come first is what
makes their career interesting).

So "Fiona" sidles up next to me to do the requisite "customer chat" as she
hands me another whiskey and water. And I immediately sense she's the
latter sort of a female flight attendant, as she seems preoccupied with
something that's bringing her down. So I flip the "in-flight" dynamics
around a bit and begin to ask her how her day is going. One thing leads to
another and after I show her a photo of my dogs (she asked), she runs to
the galley and brings out a ribbon of pictures of her family.

Okay, guys, now "Fiona" was pretty and all. But when she said that she and
her husband both were born in... and went to school in...and met in... and
(officially) live in...TEXAS, well, of course, I was expecting to see a
big, handsome hubby in her pics (its just so "Texas"-predictable that way,
ain't it?).

Still, when she handed the plastic sleeve of about twenty pictures to me I
was not expecting to see anything too much different than the first one in
the pack. It was your standard, "Sears Portrait Studio" variety photo of
"Fiona" with her, yes, verrrrrry handsome, strapping "Texan" hubby and
three of the handsomest little blonde boys one ever done see.

But then, as she rambled on about how, "...as the boys are getting bigger,
its gotten harder to work these international routes, yet the domestic ones
are actually worse for delays and bad attitude customers"...her voice
blurred into the background as I flipped through the most amazing series of
over-sized "mommy's purse" photos I have ever had the pleasure to have
seared into my mind's eye....forever.

After that first "portrait"-style pic, I tried to keep my eyes from
triple-blinking as I beheld a photo of her not only strapping but also
extremely well-hung husband in a Speedo (YEAH...JUST A SPEEDO) standing
poolside with their wet and nearly naked sons at a Disney-like
hotel. Within his impressively well muscled arms, he held the youngest boy,
just a baby at the time (it must have been taken a year or so earlier).

It was at that point when "Fiona" said, (poutingly), "I take all the
pictures and then I'm not in any!"

(Oh, how my heart went out to her...as I gazed more closely at her
husband's ten pound mound of cockmeat in his red Speedo with his two other
little guys noses like thisclose to it).

Then, as "Fiona" blithered on about how she's away from home roughly two
weeks of every month, I looked at another picture of what I now knew had to
be the happiest daddy on all the planet. "Fiona's" husband again was
shirtless, his incredible torso lightly dusted in hair, as he's showing his
three little guys how to throw a ball.

There was then a picture of the boys alone with "Fiona" but I didn't notice
too much detail in that one...

...and then there was one of the boys, yup, in the bathtub. The three boys
are seated and all soapy in their bubblebath. And at first glance, it's
just a very "family friendly" pic. But as one really looked more closely,
daddy, a third time shirtless (surely as not to get wet - always a dad's
best ploy) has both his arms, almost to his elbows, deeply submerged into
the sudsy water as he and his three sons all grin at the camera. And you
wonder what his hands must be doing down there. Maybe it was his grin that
made the picture look so, well, "Swedish".

At that picture, "Fiona" said, (and truly, this almost verbatim"), "They
love for their daddy to bathe them. I don't think I've given them a bath
since they got out of the infant tub."

Yes, readers, the author tried his best not be unkind (or choke on his Jack
Daniels flavored ice cube). He did not laugh in her face as she spoke; a
woman so blatantly blind to the actual "dad-son bonding" going on that
picture. After all, whatever that Texas dad has going on back home in that
house with those boys (no matter how "hot"), they were four thousand miles
away...while "Fiona" and I were together 35,000 feet in the air. (And until
landing, one still might have to rely on "mommy" should we need to crawl to
an emergency exit).

But I do recall sitting in my seat on that flight, flipping through those
pictures, thinking to myself, 'If the plane crashes or is taken over by
militants, this "Fiona" is going to get us all killed ...because she has to
be the stupidest woman on the whole entire planet.'

Then there was a picture of the boys at a Halloween party.

Also in the photo packet, there was one of the whole family opening
Christmas presents beneath the tree (a Grandpa musta snapped that
one). That photo I took particular notice of because in the background,
only slightly blurred, is "daddy". Yet, even the slight blur could not
obscure the massive bulge in his yellow pajama bottoms.

And then I looked at one last image before handing the sleeve back to
"Fiona". It showed her mega hunk of a husband, apparently on that same
Christmas morning (as he's in the same bulging yellow pajama bottoms and
his sons are wearing Santa hats) with the three boys all around him. The
photo showed all three of the little guys lying on top of their daddy while
he's sprawled out on a bed (again, apparently "Fiona" was stuck behind the
camera...or was it Grandpa??).

Now, perhaps some people wouldn't notice (as most people don't notice how
bad Jessica Simpson sings), but the author's eyes (as surely his readers'
will understand) immediately fixed to where not one, but two little hands
"squashed" right onto daddy's ample "bulging bazungas" (or in the
vernacular: huge cock and nuts within his bright yellow pajama
bottoms). And daddy's all smiles - which immediately is a give-away to
"knowing" men.

As she looked over my shoulder, "Fiona" beamed although clearly hurt, too,
as she said, "They are daddy's boys that's for sure. 'Go Cowboys' and all
that boy stuff. They never get enough of their daddy. Sometimes I wonder if
they even notice I'm gone."

And, as they say in the homo erotica biz, that's when CHRISTMAS MAGIC
happened! For that's the 'backstory' as to how this little story, "A
Christmas Present For Daddy", came to be. In a strange way, its courtesy of
American Airlines and one mom too dumb to see what any man looking could
all too plainly see in her assorted "family pics".

And, heck, it just might be a truer story than we all might first think!
For as a Wise Man himself might say, "A picture speaks a thousand words!"




"A Christmas Present For Daddy" Part Two

By gloryholeJUNKIE gh_professional@yahoo.com


I waved for Jamie and Justin to follow me out of the kitchen. I think maybe
my grandparents and daddy might have suspected we were up to something but
they just chuckled as we scampered out, figuring it had to have something
to do with Christmas.

In our house during the days before Christmas, if someone said they had to
go out for a while or to not to bother them in a room, everyone had to
listen and not bother them. Those were the rules. Or else, you might walk
in on someone wrapping your present!

I took my brothers into the family room and told them to be real quiet
because we had to think of some kind of a present to give daddy since his
was stuck in Paris with mommy. I whispered to them that we had to come up
with something real special or else he wouldn't have anything on Christmas!

Jamie began to cry a little bit but I told him that we had no time for
that! We had to focus on coming up with something and all his crying
wouldn't make daddy a present.

Justin just stood there sucking his thumb. Then he pointed to a big vase on
a shelf, seemingly suggesting that we give it to daddy.

I told him, "No, Justin. That's real nice but this has to be something
daddy doesn't already own." Then I told both of them that it had to be
something real good especially since mommy wouldn't be home and that all of
Christmas would be even more ruined if daddy didn't have a present on
Christmas morning.

Jamie then said that we could do what Grandma did and bake daddy some
cookies. It was an alright idea but I told him, "But Grandma Donna did
those already so why would daddy need more of them?"

We thought some more even though my brothers weren't much help. But as
they're so little, I could barely blame them. After all, even I didn't have
any ideas. So, that's why I then ran back into the kitchen and without
saying anything, pulled my Grandma Donna by her arm. She laughed as she
said to my Grandpa Louis and daddy, "I think we'll be right back. Must be a
Christmas emergency!"

Back in the family room, she asked us what was happening. I explained to
her what mommy had said on the phone, "...And if we don't do something, our
daddy won't have anything for him on Christmas morning!". Even I began to
well up as I spoke.

Our grandma gave each of us a big hug and said, "Not to worry, boys! Don't
make your grandma cry, too, now! We'll think of something."

We waited and watched as grandma thought of this and then that. Then she
said, "You can each make your daddy a special ornament for the Christmas
tree! What do you say to that?"

Me and my brothers jumped up and down. We hugged grandma since we were so
happy she was there to help.

"In fact, I need to have your father take me to the supermarket", she
said. "I have to pick up some more seasonings and whipping cream for
tomorrow's Christmas dinner!" My grandma didn't drive, so even though it
was already Christmas Eve, she said it would be a perfect excuse to get our
daddy out of the house while we made his ornaments. She said she'd tell
Grandpa Louis to help us. And then we swore her to super Christmastime
secrecy.

About an hour later, while me and my brothers were still in our pajamas
watching cartoons on t.v. in the family room, my daddy, wearing his hat and
coat, came into the room to say he was taking Grandma Donna out to get some
stuff at the store. He said they might be gone a couple of hours but that
Grandpa Louis would watch us.

Me and my brothers giggled a little as we tried to pretend we didn't
care. Our daddy just said, "You boys be good. Don't drive your grandpa
crazy while I'm gone."

As he left, Jamie and I and even Justin jumped up onto the couch to look
through the windows as we watched to make sure daddy and grandma drove
away. Almost at the same moment, Grandpa came into the room. He had changed
into beige pants and a Christmas sweater that my mommy's brother, Uncle
George, had sent him. It was a silly one that had a weirdly smiling
reindeer on it and read, "Jingle These Bells".

"Are these the three little elves who have a very urgent Christmas project
yet to be accomplished?", Grandpa Louis asked as we raced to his side.

We all nodded and pleaded with him to help. He chuckled and rubbed our
heads as we hugged him all at the same time around his waist and
legs. "Well, then, may I suggest we get on with it! Come along, like Dasher
and Dancer and Prancer..."

"Woodolf, too", Justin said as we went back into the kitchen.

Grandpa hugged him close and said, "And Rudolph, too! Of course, Rudolph!
Why, look!" he said as he stretched out his sweatshirt. "Rudolph's even
telling you to jingle grandpa's bells!"

As Justin and Jamie hopped onto chairs in the kitchen, Grandpa Louis asked
me where all our craft supplies were. I said we had them in our playroom
upstairs. He told me to show him so he could help me bring stuff down to
the kitchen.

But when we started going through drawers and everything in the playroom,
grandpa said, "You know what, Jonathan? I think it might be a whole lot
easier if you boys just make these special ornaments up here. Don't you
think?"

I looked at all the stuff in grandpa's hands and all around the room and
giggled. I said, "Me, too, grandpa! Otherwise everything up here will be
down there."

"And what if your grandma and dad get back before you're done?", he
replied. "You don't want your dad seeing you make his Christmas present,
after all."

Grandpa Louis went downstairs again as I laid out a big plastic mat my
mommy had us use when we'd do something messy upstairs.

And in just another minute, I heard him coming back upstairs. Jamie flew
into the room while grandpa carried Justin like he was flying on Santa's
sleigh.

Grandpa Louis set Justin down next to the plastic mat and then sat on the
floor with us, too.

"So what you boys going to make?", grandpa asked as he made sure the
scissors were nowhere near Jamie or Justin.

"Orn-i-mints", Jamie said as he reached for some red construction paper.

"Oh, that's a nice gift", Grandpa said. He didn't sound nearly as excited
about the idea as did grandma but he started helping my baby brother Justin
a whole lot to get started on his.

It didn't really take all that long for us to make daddy three ornaments
especially since grandpa was there to cut out all the shapes for my little
brothers. Grandpa Louis even went into my daddy' office for a minute to
find a puncher to make a hole in each ornament so we could put ribbon
through. As he did each one, I snuck peeks between his legs and his bulge
looked like he had one of Justin's stuffed animals inside his pants.

After we were done, I showed off my giant blue ornament with lots of
glitter pen and glued on jewels, Jamie showed his purple one that he drew a
Christmas tree on. And then Grandpa Louis held up Justin's red ornament
that he had Justin draw Rudolph on (even though it looked more like a
dinosaur).

Grandpa then helped us each tie a real nice bow on each ribbon and we were
really done then. I was happy even though the ornaments weren't anywhere as
great as what mommy had planned for daddy's present.

Maybe grandpa noticed my so-so expression because he asked, "What's wrong?
Should we make some more?"

I shook my head and said, "Nah. It's just, well, just that they're not real
exciting or anything. I mean, do you think daddy will like these?"

Grandpa Louis thought for a minute and then said, "Your daddy will love
anything you boys give him..."

Me and my brothers all sat up straight and beamed as he said that.

But then he continued.

"...Even these", he added, finishing his thought.

"What do you mean, grandpa?", I asked. "Aren't they good enough?"

"These?", he asked, as he spun Justin's ornament around by his
fingers. "Oh, these are beautiful. It's just...well..."

"What? What!?", I asked.

"Well", Grandpa Louis said as he assessed each ornament. "This is sort of
a, well, a grandma gift...or a mommy gift. You know?"

"A mommy gift?", I asked.

"Yeah," Grandpa Louis said. "You know, something that mommies and
grandmothers appreciate...maybe a dad here or there might, too."

Me and my brothers were crestfallen. I looked at my giant blue ornament and
asked, "What do daddies want then? We don't have any money or anything to
buy him anything nice."

"No money, no money", Justin repeated as his eyes looked all sad.

"Oh, you boys don't need any money," Grandpa Louis stated with a
smile. "Daddies, and even grandpas for that matter, don't expect a store
bought gift from their little guys. Why, no, the best presents don't cost
tykes like you three anything. The ladies usually like the things you can
make...like these. That's why your grandma probably suggested these."

"But what do daddies like then?", I asked. "If we can't buy it or even make
it, I mean."

Again, grandpa smiled a bit as he thought a moment. Then he said, "Oh, you
know. Daddies like the stuff that maybe you can do for them instead."

"Do for them?", I asked as I looked at my little brothers. "What do you
mean 'do' something for them?"

"Well, let's see...you know, things that daddies would appreciate", Grandpa
Louis said quite plainly. "Oh, things like perhaps chopping firewood or
maybe shoving the sidewalk"

My eyes widened at the same time as those of my little brothers. I think
Jamie was on the verge of tears again.

"Chop firewood?", I exclaimed. "We're too little for that!", I said, nearly
choking.

"Well, as I said, chopping the wood for fire is one option...", grandpa
said as his eyes went to the ceiling in thought. "Or shoveling the
driveway..."

Still, me and my brothers' eyes remained wide as saucers.

"...Or changing the spark plugs on the car", he stated. "Do you boys know
anything about spark plugs?"

All at once, the three of us shook our heads real slow.

"Hmmm. Too bad", Grandpa Louis said. "Adjust the satellite dish up on the
roof?"

Again, we shook our heads.

"Balance the checkbook?"

"Fix the leak in the utility sink?"

"Carve the roast on Christmas?"

"Oh no!", I blurted out. "We're not allowed to touch the kitchen
knives...EVER!"

Grandpa raised his hands and said, "Hmm, well then, I suppose
these...ornaments that the ladies all love...will have to do. I'm sure your
daddy won't mind one bit."

"Oh no!" I shouted as I jumped to my feet. "No, grandpa! You have to help
us! You have to help us find something daddies like and something me and my
brothers can do! We can't give these to daddy! He has to have something a
daddy really loves...and by tomorrow morning!"

Grandpa Louis rose off the floor and as he used his hands to brush out the
wrinkles in his pants, I saw his bulge looked real big inside his pants.

"Well, there is one more thing I can think of", grandpa said as he looked
down at the three of us. "But like chopping the firewood, you might think
you're too little to do it for your daddy. Which is too bad since I'm
almost one hundred percent positive it would have been just the thing for
his Christmas present."

Me and my little brothers jumped up and down, begging Grandpa Louis to tell
us what it was.

"Well", he said, "If you promise to hold it down, I might show you
something you could do for your daddy. But you have to promise to keep it
secret. If you don't, you know who just might not come down your chimney
tonight!"

Justin, Jamie and me were all excited and we crossed our hearts promising
never, ever to say anything. We all gave him huge, pleading hugs and Justin
was even able to scramble right under and between grandpa's legs the way
they were so wide spread as he stood before us!

"Well, okay then", Grandpa Louis said. "Since you promise. But it's still
something that I don't know if you three could do. But we'll see."

"Oh, please! Please show us, grandpa!", I begged.

"Okay, okay!" grandpa laughed as he practically had to pull Jamie's hands
from where they were wrapped around his right thigh. "You, boys stay right
here and grandpa will back in just a couple of minutes. Okay? Fold up that
mat, why don't you, while I'm gone", he said before energetically leaving
our playroom.



TO BE CONTINUED...

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THIS IS FICTION. COMPLY WITH ALL LAWS IN YOUR AREA.
