Copyright 2011, 2012 by Carl Mason

All rights reserved. Other than downloading one copy for strictly personal enjoyment, no part of this story may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, except for reviews, without the written permission of the author. However based on real events and places, “In His Father's House” is strictly fictional. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. As in real life, however, the sexual themes unfold gradually. Comments on the story are appreciated and may be addressed to the author at

In addition to numerous articles on the problems faced by juveniles incarcerated in adult prisons - especially those sentenced to life sentences without the possibility of parole - the author is especially indebted to three books: Santos, Michael G., Inside, Life Behind Bars in America (New York: St. Martin's Griffin edition, 2007); Parsell T. J., Fish, A Memoir of a Boy in a Man's Prison (Cambridge, MA; Da Capo Press, 2006); and Gagnon, Robert J. 053803, Life at Fifteen, updated ed. (np; Robert J. Gagnon-Paperback, 2006). Echoes of each will be heard in my story that follows.

If you would like to read additional stories by this author, please turn to the "Authors/Prolific Authors" link at the beginning of the Nifty Archive.

This story contains descriptions of sexual contact between males, both adults and teenagers. As such, it is homoerotic fiction designed for the personal enjoyment of legal, mature, adults. If you are not of legal age to read such material, if those in power and/or those whom you trust treat it as illegal, or if it would create unresolvable moral dilemmas in your life, please leave. Finally, please respect yourself and those around you by practicing safe sex.


(Revisiting Chapter 6)

It just kept coming! Holy . . . Was he dealing with an Anaconda or, perchance, an escaped adult African Rock Python? He had to save his boy! Depending on skills observed while watching NatGeoWild on TV, he gripped the serpent firmly behind the head and began pulling it up and away until, hopefully, he could force it out the window. Only two problems... Very much liking the feeling...the musculature...of the beast, he wondered if he should think about keeping it as a pet. If only it weren't an endangered species... To his uncle's astonishment, Jeb suddenly came to life, screamed, and completely lost it. Even though Hank offered to buy several additional pairs of pants for him, the incident took a lot of explaining!

(Continuing Our Story: Ratcheting Down)

Came next morning, the big blond didn't even try to dress. He just headed for the kitchen! Sure, he was hungry - what seventeen year old isn't? More than that, however, he was embarrassed that he had put on such a show last night on the way home. That night in bed, however, he had decided that the whole incident with the "serpent" must have been pretty...funny. (Besides, he had been promised some additional clothing in compensation!) Thus, when he reached the kitchen and saw his uncle - as usual, sans clothing and sipping on his coffee in a pre-consciousness daze - he simply wrapped his muscular arms around him and let him know that all was well. There was no way that Hank could remain upset when he felt surrounded by those glowing muscles and sniffed the scent that had become the cologne of his life!

Breakfast was again a tour de force: Hank's cold spiced fruit really set him off. Fortified with another cup of coffee plus an imposing plate of eggs and hashbrowns...with a ham steak on the side, he was ready for a really active day. Strangely enough, his uncle had several reservations. Uncle Hank felt that they both needed some time to ratchet down from a period of extreme stress. Jeb needed to continue putting the prison experience behind him. He needed a vacation, for he hadn't had one for years! "Aren't they going to get upset if you take off too many days?" asked the blond. "Well, Muscles," his uncle replied, "it does help that I founded the company right in Abington. It's a very profitable little company - and I still own most of it." Jeb mouthed one word, "Wow!" and then inquired about Hank's profession. "Electronic engineer," he replied with a grin. "We design and fabricate some small, complicated, and very important parts for the big boys. And how about you, Jeb?" he asked..."Got any plans now that you're free as a bird and have your GED?" "Dunno, Uncle Hank," the muscular one said moodily as he polished off the last bite of his ham. "Money's a problem, having several interests is a problem, my reputation is a problem, my love life is a problem. I think I need to sit down with you one evening and lay the whole mess out on the table. The fall university term has already started. If college is in the cards for me, I probably should consider beginning in the winter or spring term of this coming year. Your thoughts, sir?"

"Uhmm," Hank murmured. "I may have a few ideas," he continued. "You're bright enough to do well in a demanding college program - if that's what you want. Being my nephew, you'll have a little easier time getting into a decent school. Unfortunately, they're expensive. Truth is, I really don't favor a completely 'free ride' for a guy your age. Well, we'll see. On the other hand, unlike my elder brother, I have known a number of tradesmen and blue collar types for whom I have the greatest respect." Abruptly, he looked up from the table where he had been playing with his cup. Staring intently into his nephew's eyes, he said, "Above all, I accept your offer to lay the whole picture out for me. Besides, this lecherous old man is rather curious as to why your love life is a 'problem'. Soon, ok? Right now, I think, we have other fish to fry." Jeb grinned widely, simply saying, "Soon". (Pause.) He quickly added, "'Lecherous'?... yeah. 'Old'?...definitely not!"

"Do you have any problems with my going into the office?" Hank asked. "If I am going to take a few days off, I need to make arrangements with my staff. I'd be back in the earlier afternoon." "No problemo, Unc," the blond one shot back. "Anything I can do for you...or for us...while you're gone?" "Unc?" the boss moaned. "Thank God adolescence isn't a terminal condition!" (Pause.) "Yeah," he continued. "There is something you can do for me. Your eighteenth birthday is coming up. I've got a few ideas about events and presents, but I like to brainstorm before acting. Help me out with a few suggestions?" Making a few more wisecracks, Hank got himself together and headed down the mountain to Abington. As he wheeled the Ferrari around the first S-curve, he snickered to himself, "Wait til he sees the main present!"

Hank hadn't cleared the area before Jeb fell back on the old standby for "clearing his head", i.e., running. He did stay on Hank's land, but given his uncle's holdings this scarcely limited his course. It seemed that he ran forever...through the valley lowlands, into the hills above, though woodlands that had turned a million colors as they prepared to don more somber garb. Two of Hank Taylor's armed guards who were taking a coffee break as they patrolled saw him as he passed, unaware of their presence. "Wow..." the one who had been on his university's varsity track team murmured. "Yeah," his partner agreed. Jokingly he added, "You've either got it or you don't got it. That boy has enough 'it' for all of us."

Once back at the lodge, Jeb immediately fell into several cooling down exercises before he virtually attacked the waters of the pool. The reward? The youngster felt the power returning to his body, and a fair measure of peace and clarity to his mind. Thoroughly relaxed, he was able to fall asleep as he lay on the thick grass. In fact, that was how Hank found him when he returned from town before 1:30 p.m. "Unc" went quietly into the house, stripped down, and pulled on a pair of shorts. Carrying nothing more than one very special dark-toned bottle, he immediately returned to the warm hillside and sat down beside Jeb. Sensing that another person had entered his space, the blond opened one eye and sleepily murmured, "Hi, Unc. How yuh doin'?" Affectionately squeezing the back of the boy's thick neck, he answered, "Doin' fine. I'm all set down at the office. We can head for the moon." "Too cold," snickered Jeb. "This will do me just fine." The elder Taylor growled, "You sound as if your brain may have become a little fried...or steamed. You're also getting a little pink....not surprising having spent three-years inside. How long have you lying here in the sun?" "Lay down 'round noon, I guess," Jeff admitted. As if further to report on his condition, he emitted a sharp yelp when he suddenly tried to move onto his side. "Actually,"I do feel a little warm", he admitted. "Got anything that will keep me from appearing as the roast on the dinner table tonight?"

"Ask and ye shall receive," Hank intoned in his most sepulchral tone of voice. "My pharmacy carries a brand of massage oil that slightly deadens pain, as well as protects against anything the old sun can throw at you. Straight from the cookbook of a 19th century snake oil huckster... I stopped by on the way home and picked up a bottle. Will you serve as my guinea pig?" The response? About as expected: "You may carry on, Jeeves."

In his best English butler's accent, Uncle Hank replied, "As you will, sire," stripped off his shorts, and sat astride the 'Master's' muscled thighs. Snickering slightly, he splashed a generous dollop of oil onto his back, enjoying Jeb's gasp as the cold oil caused a shiver to run throughout his body. Amused that Jeb couldn't see his face, he smirked, grunted "Sorry, Master", and began to work the oil into his heavy back and shoulders. Instead of registering the growl that he had been considering only a moment before, the blond youth began to relax. Indeed, only moments later, "Unc's" efforts were crowned with soft moans and sighs. Believe that Jeb was not the only one who moaned. As Hank first spread the oil and then worked it deeper, the sensation of penetrating the essence of the youth's physical beauty brought forth many a responsive moan. Slowly, deeply, his hands worked the muscles on either side of Jeb's spine, as well as his traps, delts, and triceps. Probing, they slid back down into youth's lats and, then, the proud beauty of his rounded glutes. No hair here...not even a pimple...just the perfection of smooth, lightly oiled skin and taut muscles. Mischieviously, Hank let his fingers open the smooth cleft between the blond's classic buttocks and poured a small quantity of oil into the opening. When it reached the lad's anus, he allowed his finger to softly circle its pale lips before following the last of the oil down to his perineum. As Hank gently rubbed his oiled fingers over the smooth perineum, Jeb let out a little cry and raised his head as a slight spasm ran throughout his body. The lad's swollen, iron-hard taint told him that his cock must be ready to drill for oil! Murmuring words of love, Hank simply kissed the back of his neck before continuing to work his powerful thighs, calves, and feet.

"Ready to turn over?" his uncle finally asked quietly. With much improved flexibility - though the pink cast of his ears and traps was already forecasting his condition - the proud young knight turned over onto his back. "Sorry, Uncle Hank," he whispered. "Sorry? Sorry for WHAT!" his uncle barked. The touch of hands against the soft flesh of his inner thighs, signaled Jeb to spread his legs widely until the elder Taylor could move forward and kneel on the grass just below the lad's imposing genitals. Standing before attention so perfect as to gain an approving grunt from the roughest DI in the Corps...and reddening as blood engorged it to the limits of imagination, his heartbeat forced waves of precum down its shiny surface. In all his life, he had never seen a male tool of such dimensions, so perfectly shaped, or of a beauty that promised such power!

As if mesmerized by the thick, lengthening rod now visible in his uncle's shorts, Jeb whispered hoarsely, "I know you love me, Uncle Hank, but..." Suddenly he coughed violently, shaking his head, almost angrily, from side to side. Though the boy's eyes were clogged with tears, he seemed to force himself to continue, albeit hoarsely, "Is there any chance that you could ever love me in all the ways I love you? Smiling reassuringly at his nephew, Hank bent low and kissed him directly on the lips. He then quietly grasped the lad's hands and placed them on his own shoulders. As his fingers worked deep into biceps whose girth and firmness would already grace a young man of considerably greater years and experience, he said, "Well, my son, we have already scheduled a discussion where many, many cards will be laid on the table. Might I share a detailed answer to your question at that time?"

As peace returned to Jeb's eyes and a soft smile accepted his uncle's request...and promise...Hank continued his massage. Lovingly, he carefully worked the muscles of the youngster's thick, athlete's neck, thence down over the trapezius muscle at the top of his shoulders, thence onto his solid, beautifully defined pecs. "Like working with velvet and steel," he thought as he spread more oil over Jeb's torso. For all of his seriousness he couldn't resist toying with the youngster's nips as his fingers encountered them. (Jeb reacted by moaning sharply and writhing a bit in the grass as a minor spasm ran through his body. Opening his eyes, he play-glared at Hank.) "A little sensitive, eh?" his uncle responded, grinned evilly, and moved on.

Hank was poised to work Jeb's abs and stomach when a phone rang steadily from within the house. "Damn! Left my cell inside!" he exploded. "Me, too," Jeb exclaimed guiltily. Affectionately touching the side of his boy's face, the elder Taylor struggled to his feet and raced for the building. Noticing for the first time that the sky didn't look all that great to the northwest, Jeb gathered everything in sight and followed.


"What's up?" he yelled as he entered the house. Seeing that Uncle Hank was on the phone in the next room, he waved in apology, grabbed a soft drink from the fridge, and sat down at the kitchen table. Hank joined him shortly. "That was Sheriff Colby down in Parkersville," he grunted as he located a beer and then shut the fridge. "Troubles..." Jeb knew that P-ville (as everyone called it) was a little railroad town about 50 miles to the southwest. There really wasn't much to keep it going these days. Nevertheless, the freight line still argued that its rolling stock took a real beating in the higher mountains that rose steeply just to the west of town. Better, they argued, to keep a couple of shops open there rather than being forced to wait for a wheel or a spike to arrive from Pittsburgh, the Carolinas, or worse! Besides, old timers still lived there, and smaller jobs got done right...the first time. The little burg of a bit better than twenty thousand inhabitants lay on the Kennessau river which flowed down from the mountains to the ocean. About one-third of the town (containing the business district, schools, several churches, and the more expensive homes) lay on the upper side of the river. The remaining two-thirds (containing most of the worker housing, the CSX shops, a few small plants and other businesses, one of the larger collection of bars in the state, and St. Joseph's Roman Catholic Church and its parochial school) were built on the ground below the river.

"Seems that the old Catlin dam...way up on the Kennessau...isn't going to last the night," Hank said. "For years, people in three states have been asking their legislators to ante up some money to repair the damned old thing. No way... Now P-ville and several smaller towns must pay the human price." "How about the freight line?" Jeb asked. "No, son, I was talking about the price that the government doesn't pay...dead children, businesses packing up and moving somewhere else where labor is cheaper and they have more control...cemeteries where ancestors going back to the 1750s are buried. That sort of thing... They need our help...and some of the heavy equipment my companies control in this region. I'd better get some of it moving in that direction."

As they packed and had a quick supper, it was obvious that a major autumnal storm was upon them. Chances were it had hit the Catlin dam region as much as a day ago. Indeed, before they could leave the house, hail hit the windows, a torrential rain was falling, and winds were already blowing at a frightening level. (Something of an amateur meteorologist, Hank commented that while it probably wouldn't fall during this storm, snow couldn't be far behind.)

(To Be Continued)