Date: Mon, 6 Jun 2011 18:30:20 -0700 (PDT) From: Sam H. Subject: Forget Uncle Rafi, Part One This is a work of fiction. Please send any feedback to samofthedesert@yahoo.com _______ Part One: It was late. Crisp air crept in through the open window with soft yellow light from the lamp-post outside. I had my eyes closed lying naked on my bed. I kept swallowing the spit that developed in my mouth. Nerves were getting to me. I had taken a shower minutes before and every hair on my body gave its salut to the cold breeze. I got lost and couldn't remember how long I had been there. I thought about cats wearing sombreros and the Mother Mary and how much my hair might weigh in gold. My breathing slowed and I felt calm, slowly drifting away. And then a car door slammed. I sucked in a gallon of air and my tongue grew a cactus. The front door opened and the door closed. I heard the kitchen chair scratch the floor. One boot. Two boots. A belt buckle, a zipper, and a grunt. A minute passed and all I saw were pixels as I raised my ass into the air waiting for him to claim his territory. The door opened and my stomach took a blow. His feet made great thuds on the hardwood and a shadow hovered. I could feel the tip of my dick touch the sheets as it grew hard. "Here's what I been looking for." And my right ass cheek was on fire. It felt amazing and I let myself go. "If this ain't the prettiest ass I've seen since the zoo." And he smacked my ass harder. His voice was deep and comforting. I giggled. A cold wet one fell from his lips and landed on my asshole. One finger. Two fingers. Three. Slice of pie. I was trying to keep my cool. I wanted him to to think I was an old pro but I could not have told a greater lie. It stung. My asshole was a sheath. I could feel the head of his dick press into me and a moan escape. "At'a-boy," as he was fully inside me. I hadn't even seen his dick but I could tell he was huge from the pain. My face was buried in the pillow. He was on top of me and his chest hair tickled and scratched my back. He stunk of sweat, I inhaled him. He licked my ear as I moved my head sideways. I heard a hollow gasp and a small pop as his dick slid out. I opened my eyes and saw his broad back as he was leaving the room. I felt weird, almost depressed in that moment. Why did he stop. Was I not cute and tight enough. It was yes and then no. I rolled over and walked out into the kitchen with my erection leading the way. It was dark but I recognized his voice as he said my name. "Samuil." I stood there with my mouth ajar. "Go back in that room and forget about this." I felt scared. I felt scared like when I was a little kid. I was older now but somehow uncle still found a reason to yell at me. I am Samuil. No one calls me Samuil except my grandfather and my uncle. Even my parents are lazy and call me Sam. The -uil caught me off guard. I am 19 years old and just graduated from high school. I'm moderately tall and slender with dark hair. My mother is from Russian descent and my father from Middle-Eastern but they both grew up in New York of immigrant families. My father's a large man horizontally and his brother, my only uncle, is just large. He's beefy with big fluffy muscles covered in dark hair all over. He stands tall with enormous arms and a massive chest. I am the complete opposite of both. Not much muscle anywhere, a petite frame easily moved. I didn't even have chest hair yet. I was an embarrassment but I had learned to live with it. When I was younger I looked up to my uncle like no one else. I always wanted to talk to him and hang out the few times I saw him. He and my father didn't get along. Once at a family picnic at the beach he yelled at me for running into the street. I was terrified of his voice. I thought he hated me because my dad hated him. Something about him drew me to him regardless. I remember sitting in his lap and touching his dense leg hair. After a couple minutes my father gave him a look. "Scram, Samuil." It was always off and on. You can hang out with me. Now leave. I could never understand how he could be so nice and so cold soon after. My father didn't like me being around him. Once I started high school I hardly saw him. He and my father lost all communication which meant I lost all communication. I still thought about him though. He worked as a mechanic and drove a shitty truck. He was a loner. As I grew up I started to understand why he appealed to me so much as a kid. The power his body had over me. He could punch me in the face and I would die and at the same time hold me and make me feel safer than I have ever felt. He was perfect. My pecker was a 2x4. A bead of precum fell to the floor. "Yes, uncle Rafi."