Date: Sun, 15 Jan 2017 21:47:15 +0000 (UTC)
From: short_guy@yahoo.com
Subject: A place of my own

A place of my own
by Short Guy

A place of my own part 1

My name is Toma. I had just graduated from college and moved to the Boston
area. It was 1975. I had been accepted to a grad school to learn public
policy so I could get a job with the government. But I didn't have enough
money to start the program right away. My parents had helped me pay for
college but had no money left for grad school so I had to work and borrow
for tuition, rent and food. The plan was to take a year working and save
money and start the program a year later. I had gotten a job at the local
rent control board as a secretary/clerk. Luckily, my Dad's identical twin
brother had a house in Brookline so the plan was to move in with him until
I had enough money to move into a place of my own.

My uncle's name was Nicu and he still looked so much like my Dad that
people would confuse them and often couldn't tell them apart. They were
both super handsome with dark hair that had not thinned at all, beautiful
dark brown eyes with luxurious eyelashes and thick sexy eyebrows. Like an
older Râzvan Bânica. My grandfather had come over from
Romania when he was six years old and my Dad and uncle were born here in
the US. They were both solid and muscular, although Nicu was much more
muscular than my Dad. Dad was an engineer and Uncle Nicu was a building
contractor. Nicu got a lot more physical activity than my Dad did and it
made his arms and chest thick and muscled and gave him an ass that you
could bounce a coin on.

Uncle Nicu lived alone. We wondered why he never married since he was such
a handsome stud. He just said that he was married to his work and he liked
the independence of living on his own. Not a man of many words, that
explanation seemed plausible.

His house had one master bedroom, and a guest bedroom that was also used as
the TV room. It had a sofa bed and that's where I was going to sleep. Uncle
Nicu had said that it would be easier just to open the bed and leave it
open all the time instead of converting it to a sofa every morning and a
bed every night. We could sit on the bed to watch TV together.

I got along with Uncle Nicu really well and I was looking forward to living
with him. I felt a bit guilty living there without paying rent but Uncle
Nicu wouldn't hear anything about it. I was like his own son, he said, and
his house was my house. As far as he was concerned, I never had to move out
at all even if I made enough money for my own place.

As much as I was looking forward to being with my uncle, I did want to get
a place of my own. I wanted some privacy so I could bring guys home and
fuck around. There wasn't going to be much of that at Uncle Nicu's house --
or so I thought.

I was an only child. My Dad and Mom helped me move my stuff from my college
dorm to Uncle Nicu's house. When Dad saw his brother, they hugged and
kissed. It was the thing in my family--everyone was very huggy, including
the men, and it was completely usual for the guys in the family to kiss
each other on the cheek, especially for brothers and for parents and
children or uncles and nephews. My Dad and Nicu also gave each other a big
bear hug. Weirdly, Uncle Nicu was three inches taller than his brother
Marku. That sometimes happens with identical twins even though they share
the same genes. When they were born Nicu weighed almost twice as much as
Marku and the difference persisted throughout their lives especially
because of all the exercise Nicu got. They were still pretty young. I was
22 and they were 42.

Mom and Dad needed to get back home to New Hampshire. They left after
dinner.

It was just Uncle Nicu and me now.

There was one problem though. As I said, Nicu was more muscular than my Dad
-- much more muscular. He was not a body builder but he might as well have
been. He was also taller than my Dad, like I said. But he still looked a
hell of a lot like my Dad. And see the thing is, I had a bit of thing for
my Dad. And I had a kind of a thing for muscular handsome guys. And Nicu,
well, he was both muscular and a knockoff of my Dad. He was fucking sexy as
hell. And that was a bit of a problem.

You see my Dad and I were close -- really close. The thing is, seeing my
Dad always gave me a hardon. And Nicu, well, what do you think would happen
to my little soldier when he saw a version of my Dad that was bigger,
thicker, taller, even more muscular? He would do what any soldier does when
he is in front of a superior officer. He would salute. And fuck it if my
cock wasn't going to be hard all the time living with my hunky uncle.

I had learned to hide my boners pretty well but at some point it would be
obvious and I wasn't sure how Nicu would react. I assumed I could just say
I was a red-blooded Romanian-American boy and that of course I was hot to
trot. What was a little worrisome was that what made me hard was men. Not
boys, not thin pretty teenagers, but real men with hairy chests and big
biceps and big muscular butts and thick muscular thighs. Men like my
Dad. Men like Uncle Nicu.

It had started out when I was a kid. Dad hugged me and kissed me a lot and
I loved all the physical contact with him. I had noticed from an early age
that his cock sometimes got hard and long. I could feel it against my boy
butt or my legs as I sat in Dad's lap. And when I was young I remember Dad
teaching me how to pee in the toilet. He stood behind me and held my penis
to show me how to aim. Fuck did I love it when he did that. In fact, I
would ask him to help me pee. Sometimes he would say no. But usually, he
would agree. I used to love it when he did it. Something about feeling my
Dad's strong gentle hand on my penis made me feel complete. I realize now I
would start to get a hardon when Dad held my cock; I didn't know then why
it felt so good.

As I got older, Dad stopped doing this. But he would still do it if I
asked. And I asked pretty often. Having my Dad hold my cock and help it
feel good, well, who wouldn't want that if they could get it?

And then when I was seven Dad started taking showers with me.

Our house was small but we did have two bathrooms. One was attached to Mom
and Dad's master bedroom, the other off the hallway for the two other
bedrooms. Usually my Mom and Dad used the same bathroom and I used the one
near my bedroom. But if Mom and Dad both wanted to take a shower in the
morning, one of them had to get up early to take their turn. Once my Dad
taught me to take showers rather than baths, I wanted only showers. I was a
big boy. And it made sense for me to take a shower with my Dad. So Mom used
the shower in the master bedroom bathroom and Dad slummed it in my bathroom
with me.

Those early showers are a haze in my memory. I do remember that I had seen
my Dad naked many times. We used to go to the beach and change together in
the small changing locker that we rented at the beach club. It was about
the size of a closet. At that age (six years old), my Dad's cock was right
at the level of my face. I had seen it many times. I had also noticed that
sometimes it was longer and sometimes it was shorter. Sometimes, because
the locker was so small, I would feel my Dad's cock touch my
body. Sometimes my back, sometimes my arm, sometimes my shoulder, and
sometimes it would rub against my cheek. I also remember seeing my Dad's
naked hairy ass. It was muscular, full, thick, and strong. It also was just
about level with my face. I admired my Dad's body and loved looking at
it. I loved seeing how big his cock was compared to my little boy's cock.

Taking showers was another thing altogether. Dad taught me to close my eyes
so the water would not get into them. And most exciting of all, he taught
me how to clean myself thoroughly. He did that partly by making me watch
him wash himself and partly by him washing me to teach me how. That meant
my Dad would rub his soapy hand all over my body, including my chest, my
legs, my ass, and my little dick. He spent extra time on my ass and my
dick, including rubbing over my asshole and sometimes inserting his finger
to make sure I was clean inside as well as outside. I loved feeling his
strong soapy hands caressing me all over. And even though it felt weird, I
even looked forward to having him insert his finger inside my asshole. I
wanted to be a big boy and if big boys needed to clean out their assholes,
and it felt good to do that, and my Dad wanted to help me out to make sure
I was clean, well who was I to argue?

And he would clean his own cock as well. His soft cock was longer than my
hands. I was only 7 after all. His dick looked huge to me. And when he
washed it with that soapy water, it would get even bigger -- so big it was
the longer than my forearm.

I matured early. My Dad had told me about the birds and the bees in fourth
grade and by the time I was ten years old, I was jacking off and shooting
cum. I know, earlier than most guys, but it was normal for the guys in our
family.

And see, the first time, well the first time, was in the shower with my
hunky Dad. And it happened because he was washing my cock. Just as I had
asked him to help me piss in the toilet when I was younger, I'd sometimes
ask him to wash my cock like he used to "cuz he did it so well." I have no
idea what my father made of that but he must have known that his "washing"
was really stroking an emerging adolescent's dick until it got rock hard in
his hand. In fact, not only must he have known that, but he must have
looked forward to it himself, judging by the way he would move his hard
cock on my soapy ass.

Several times, his washing had resulted in my having dry cums. He acted
like there was nothing weird about it. He was just helping wash my cock
after all.

But this time, I came and shot my first load.

Dad was behind me. I could feel his hard cock on my ten year old butt. He
was bending down to reach my cock. He washed it so well. His cock was warm;
it was hard; it was throbbing against my boy butt as he washed my own. This
time, he not only used soap but baby oil. It felt fucking fantastic. My
breath got fast, my heart was racing. My Dad was jacking me off. I didn't
know it at the time. I didn't know that it was probably deliberate. I
thought it was just a by-product of his "washing" me; I thought he might
not understand how good he was making me feel or how it affected my dick
throb. I realize now he knew just what he was doing. I realized he was
getting off on getting me off.

His soapy oily hand felt so fucking good. He was strong and gentle at the
same time. THe baby oil was the kicker; he had said that was the thing to
put on your private parts after washing with soap and water to make the
skin stay soft. He had put baby oil on his own cock too. He was stroking my
cock, rubbing the oil in. His cock was moving up and down on my little
butt.

I felt it getting closer. Closer. I was going to have one of those dry
cums, I knew it.

But then three things happened at the exact same moment.

One: Dad started humping my ass with his oily, hot, hard, throbbing cock.

Two: Dad leaned over and kissed my ear and whispered, so no one but me
could hear, "I love you."

Third: I fucking shot my first load in my father's strong hand as he
stroked his boy's penis to completion.

I shot my first wad of my life and at that very moment Dad repeated in my
ear: "I love you."

I shot again.

"I love you."

I shot.

"I love you."

I shot.

"I love you."

And all the while, Dad was rubbing his hard cock along my tiny but hard
bubble butt.

At the last "I love you," I felt something hot against my ass. And then
some more. And more. And more. And more.

Dad had fucking shot a load too. Right on his boy's butt.

It was the fucking best feeling of my entire life up until then. The dry
cums had been amazing but this, this was fucking awesome. Not only was the
orgasm the best I had ever had, but the feeling was intensified incredibly
by hearing my Dad tell me he loved me as I was cumming. I didn't only
cum. I made Dad cum. I had shot my first load and my Dad had shot his first
load on me at the same time. And all those intense spurts of muscle
contraction and shots of cum were associated with my Dad -- and my Dad's
love for me.

My Dad loved me. My Dad was washing me. My Dad was teaching me to be a
man. And when I thought about his love for me, it made me feel so good, I
shot my load.

Did I shoot my load because Dad was jacking me off and I was ready at ten
to produce semen? Or did I shoot my thick cum because my Dad told me he
loved me?

In my mind, everything was wrapped up together. In my mind, my Dad tells me
he loves me and my dick gets rock hard in an instant. I hear my Dad say it
again in my head and I fucking am ready to shoot my wad. When I finally do
release my load, I hear my Dad's deep resonant voice. "I love you. I love
you."

The masturbation was good partly because someone was helping me. It was
good partly because the guy helping me was the guy I loved best in the
whole world. It was good because the guy I loved best in the world told me,
at the moment I wanted to hear it the most, that he fucking loved me. It
was good because hearing my Dad tell me he loved me, at the moment he was
stroking my cock, was enough to make me shoot my young load.

Some guys take their parents' love for granted. Some guys never get to feel
loved; their parents neglect them or abuse them.

Me, I loved my Dad and I knew it. I loved my Dad and I showed it. My Dad
loved me and he showed it.

Our shower sessions became a little more active from that point on. We
developed a routine. We would both wash all over and then Dad would "finish
me off" by washing my cock to make sure I was as clean as possible. But Dad
was not finishing me off. He was getting me off.

Dad rarely came himself. But sometimes he could not stop himself. He could
not stop getting hard. He could not stop himself from pressing his
throbbing dick on my meaty muscular bubble boy butt. And he could not stop
himself from rocking up and down and humping my sexy ass. And no one could
blame him if sometimes, when his son shot his hot semen with his cock
encased in Dad's strong hand, that Dad would give it up, that his cock
would twitch, and that he would unload the biggest fucking shots of cum all
over my young ass and back.

And all the while, telilng me he loved me. For years, when I shot my load,
I heard words in my head. It was my Dad telling me he loved me.

Dad stopped taking showers with me when I turned 15. I think he thought it
was time to stop. I was growing up after all. But when I think back on it,
I now think that he was worried that if we continued on this way that, at
some point, I was going to bend over to get the soap and he could not,
simply could not, top himself from shoving his daddy dick up my teenage,
muscular, soapy, oily bubble butt. He was scared about what that would
mean. He was scared about harming me. He was scared he would traumatize me,
no matter how much he probably want to stuff my ass. So he let it go.

What he never realized -- and what I may not have known at the time myself
-- was that I wanted to bend over for him. I'm a fucking bottom for God's
sake; I loved my Dad; I loved his handsome face and his muscles; I loved
his cock. And I loved feeling the cock that made me against my ass and his
hot cum dripping down into the crack of my butt cheeks to my tight hole.

But here I was. About to live in a house with my Uncle Nicu.

Who looked just like my handsome Dad.

But three inches taller.

But much, much more muscular.

And who loved me as much as my Dad did.

Nothing to be nervous about, right?

Only this: how the fuck was I going to hang around him without sporting a
constant hardon?



A place of my own part 2

The first night I stayed in Uncle Nicu's house I was supposed to use the
sofa bed in the TV room. But it was a hot day and the air conditioning unit
in that room was broken. So Nicu announced that I would sleep in the master
bedroom with him. He had a queen size bed and there was plenty of room for
the both of us.

Sensible right?

Fuck me, I was going to be sharing a bed with my hunky uncle. And it was a
hot day. So clothes were likely to be skimpy. Men in my family tended to
wear nothing but loose gym shorts to sleep. No tops. My uncle's muscular
hairy chest was going to be inches from mine. Holy shit.

Well, I would just turn my back to him and sleep on my side. That way any
hardon I got would be out of his view.

It didn't turn out that way.

When it came time to go to sleep, Nicu and I retired to his bedroom. Nicu
shut the door. He looked at me and smiled.

We took off our clothes. I was a bit self-conscious in front of him. But he
was looking at me the whole time. If I didn't know better, I would say he
was putting on a show. He was stripping for me.

He took off his shirt. I stared at his hairy muscular pecs. He looked at
me. I took off my shirt. He slipped off his shoes and socks as I did the
same. He looked at me and undid his belt and slid down his pants and
stepped out of them. I did the same. He never stopped looking at me. Fuck
he was so handsome. Those beautiful deep eyes.

And then he slipped off his boxer shorts and stood naked in front of me.

He was beautiful. He was masculine. He was muscular. He was my uncle. He
was my Dad, just a little enhanced.

He breathed in and I saw his chest expand. Oh God he was sexy.

And then, completely naked, he walked over to me and held my face in his
hands. His eyes were just inches from my own.

"Toma, you need to know something. You are family. This is your house. You
are not a stranger here. I know you will look sometime for your own
place. I want you to know that is fine. But it is fine also if you stay. In
the old country, children stay with parents even if they are grown up. The
children have children. Three generations. One house. You are family. You
are my brother's son. That means you are my son. You know we are identical,
my brother and I. It means we have the same genes. That means that you have
my genes. Half your genes come from my brother Marku and I have the same
genes as him. Biologically, Toma, you are my son. You are my son. I love
you. What you need, I give."

Nicu looked deeply into my eyes. He smiled. He kissed my forehead, his
hands caressing my cheeks.

"Also, you are a man. I can see. I know a man's needs. Don't think you need
to find some place else to bring someone home. I understand. I am a man. I
know. My home is your home. You are a man. You do what men do."

He paused.

He looked at me, and then he said:

"I am a man. I do what men do. You understand, my Toma, my son? You
understand what I mean?"

I couldn't stop myself. I can't believe what I did. I just can't believe
it. But I did it.

I burst into tears.

You have to understand, I was trembling just to feel my uncle's touch on my
cheek. I was trembling to feel his kiss on my forehead. I was emotional
from graduating, from moving.

And I was completely, utterly stunned that he had said "someone" instead of
"some girl."

I knew him. I knew Uncle Nicu. I knew how he talked. It meant, it could
only mean, one thing -- one fucking thing.

He knew I was gay.

He knew and he was OK with it.

And what's more -- holy shit -- what's more... he was telling me that he
was too.

"What? What is it Toma? What? What?" my uncle said, kissing my forehead, my
cheeks, my streaming eyes.

"How long?" I asked, between sobs.

"How long, what?" he said.

"How long have you known?"

"Known what, my Toma?"

"Known that I like guys." There. I had said it. I had finally said it out
loud. Something I had not even said to my own father.

"Your father," Nicu said. "You think he does not know. But he does. So I
hear it from him. I hear it and I see it."

"What do you see?" I asked, whispering.

"I see the way you look at me," he said. And at that moment, that very
moment, he kissed me on the lips.

It was as if the whole world had exploded.

I felt my uncle Nicu's lips on mine.

I felt his hands sliding my boxers down off my muscular bubble butt.

I felt his hands gripping my ass, lifting me up into his arms.

 I felt my legs encircle his hips.

I felt his tongue intrude between my lips.

I felt his cock stir against my crotch.

I felt his thick muscular chest press against my own muscular pecs.

I felt my uncle Nicu fucking my mouth with his tongue.

I felt myself sucking on his tongue with deep hunger and lust.

I felt my cock spring up, as rigid a hardon as I have ever had.

I felt my cock pressing against my uncle's muscular abs.

I felt him gently place me on the bed on my back and climb on top of me,
never letting me go, never letting his tongue leave my mouth.

I felt his tongue fucking my mouth, in and out, in and out, in and out, in
and out.

I felt him caressing my face, my hair, my neck.

I felt his cock slip down between my legs.

I felt it piston up and down beneath my balls and in my ass crack.

I felt his cock search and probe.

I felt it press against my boy hole.

I felt his tongue fucking my mouth.

I felt his cock pressing, releasing, pressing, releasing.

I felt my asshole give, just a little, then a little, then more, then...

I felt his cock enter my ass, just a bit.

I felt it go in and out and every time a little further.

I felt it when my uncle's cock was fully embedded in my ass.

I felt my handsome uncle Nicu start to fuck my ass with long and powerful
strokes.

I sucked on his tongue as it fucked my mouth in time to his motions
inserting his penis in my asshole.

He fucked me deep, strong, lovingly.

I felt the cum churning in my balls. I felt them contracting. I felt my
penis throb, clench and then...

I fucking shot the biggest load of my life, cradled in my uncle's arms,
sucking on my uncle's tongue, spread my legs around his muscular torso,
feeling my uncle's thick throbbing tool fucking his nephew's ass, seeing
his muscular ass moving up and down, as his cock took me and made me his
boy.

I lost it. I fucking lost it.

I came and came and came and came and came.

And when I almost spent, my uncle's tongue pressed farther into my mouth
than it had ever been, I felt him thrust his penis deep as it could
possibly go, slamming his balls against my ass, and I felt him spasm and
shoot, spasm and shoot, spasm and shoot, as he fucked me, as he fucked his
nephew, as he fucked his son.

And fuck me if he didn't say it, as I was shooting my load and as he was
shooting his load. Those words. The words that haunted me every time I had
an orgasm.

"I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you."

Fuck me, my Dad had talked to him. My Dad knew I was gay but had never said
anything. My Dad knew I what I wanted. My Dad knew he could never give it
to me. But my Dad also knew my uncle. Dad could give me what he could give
me and no more. He could not give me more of himself. But Dad had a
brother. And Dad could give me his brother. Dad could give me the fucking
he knew I craved. He could do it by asking his brother to take me to his
bed, to do what my Dad couldn't do.

And as fate would have it, my uncle loved his brother. He would do anything
for him.

And as fate would have it, my uncle loved me too. He loved me the way a man
loves a man. He loved me the way a lover loves a lover.

My uncle loved me. He would do anything for me. He would give me anything I
needed. And not such a bad deal if what I needed was no different than what
he needed.

I needed love. My uncle had love to give.

I was in my uncle's bed. I was in my uncle's house.

My uncle told me that his house was my house. He had told me I was
family. He had told me I was his son.

His house was my house. His bed was my bed.

I wanted a place of my own. But I didn't need to look any further. I
already had it.



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