This is the first chapter of my new novel. The urge to write has started up again. I write primarily for my own entertainment. My previous books have had great feedback from Nifty readers and we’ve enjoyed some excellent conversations. I write when I feel horny so I often get ‘first-hand’ direct feedback. The theme of this new story is similar to my other books: a man’s discovery and mentoring of a teenage lad. All the usual disclaimers apply: this is a work of fictional imagination; I do not condone any illegal activity; please respect the laws of your own country. That said, enjoy the start of his new story.
Also by the same author: Author profile and links to all my other books.
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I’d been back in the UK for three months now. For the past four years I’d been living in South-East Asia – mostly in and around Bangkok – and I felt it was time to re-connect with some of my family and friends back home.
It was not an easy decision to return. After I graduated from university in Leeds, I got my first professional job in the same city. After a year, this enabled me to put down a deposit on a small studio apartment in one of the new apartment buildings that were being built close to the centre of the city as part of the urban regeneration. I liked my little pad: it was modern and convenient, although it was quite small because I couldn’t afford anything bigger. The living room had a kitchen at one end and a sleeping area at the other; the small shower room led off the bedroom area. I’d lived there for a few months before I went travelling. I liked the easy access to the city centre, to my office job, and to the various gay venues where I met my friends.
Mostly my friends were left over from student days, plus a few picked up through work. During my years in the city, I’d had a couple of boyfriend relationships but never felt the desire to commit myself to anyone. I loved feeling horny, getting naked, stripping off a guy, and engaging in all kinds of sex with him. Mostly I saw myself as ‘top’ but I would ‘bottom’ with the right cute guy. I was always drawn to the slimmer, cuter guys – the ones who tended to be the least available, of course. If the opportunity presented itself (which was pretty rare) I loved a 3-way scene; I’d always got very turned on in the darkroom of a sauna on a busy night when you could sense so many guys playing with each other, sucking, fucking and cuming in the dark. I wanted to be uninhibited but – like I said – it never felt that easy to find such situations to enjoy.
After eighteen months in the same job, I felt in need of a change. Life had become a little stale. I decided on a long holiday to Thailand and then decide whether I wanted to stay there for a time, look for some work, and review what to do next.
I’d managed to save a little money, and my parents offered to help out with the mortgage for a few months. I resigned my job and took off for Bangkok in late November.
The next few months were amazing and eye-opening. To be honest, I’d heard lots of things about Thailand and that was part of the attraction. I didn’t just want to be part of the hippy hang-out set: I wanted to explore the country, the people and the culture. And, truthfully, a large part of the attraction – not that I could tell anyone this – was the country’s reputation for sex. Straight, gay, bi, ladyboy sex. Mixed race sex. Cross-generational sex. Easy sex.
My sex life was part of what had gone stale in Leeds. It felt like I’d slept with those friends I most desired. We all seemed to be doing the same things. Occasionally some new guy would show up on the scene or on one of the cruising websites and there would be a burst of excitement – but it never seemed to last. I hoped that my foray into Thailand would waken me up again.
It was time to own up to some of my deeper desires. I wanted to see if they might come true in the Asian fleshpots. As I mentioned before, I had lots of fantasies about 3-ways, 4-ways, and groups. I wanted to be safe and healthy, but I also wanted to get naked and dirty with groups of guys. When I say ‘guys’, what I really mean – if I’m being completely honest – is ‘lads’. That’s what I’d discovered was occupying my imagination. When I searched the porn sites at home I would enter search terms like ‘teen’, ‘twink’, ‘son’. I really got off on watching some of those boy videos. Even if the boy was fucking a girl in the scene, I would still be focusing on his hard cock as she sucked on him first before he entered her or covered her with big loads of his cum. And I loved shots of his ass. I would wank myself hard as I imagined what I would like to do with his boy ass. I was becoming obsessed with thoughts about sex with naked lads. These fantasies always made me horny and hard. They still do, as I sit here writing this stuff, my pants pushed down and my hard cock leaking clear liquid onto my fingers (which have a messy habit of transferring it to the keyboard!)
So I flew out to Thailand full of images, hopes, desires and lusts for the sort of lads I’d seem in so many online pictures and videos: brown-skinned, dark-haired, button-nipples, smooth-bodied, slender and lithe, rounded butt, and fully functioning tackle to pleasure and be pleasured by. In short, I wanted to find my dream of boy heaven.
Well, it took me some time to find my feet. Right from the time of my arrival, I was amazed by the beauty of the boys and young men I saw every day in such large numbers. My first encounter was in the massage shops where, over several visits, I discovered the courage to expect and request more. I learned to be more selective in my choice of masseur, picking out the young man that I particularly wanted. I found out about tipping to get the extra services I wanted. After a time I found out about male-to-male massage services where, for a considerably higher price, the masseur would go further; stripping themselves to give the massage, making their body more available, offering more erotic pleasures. Sometimes these lads were very skilled; other times they were too quick and intent on making money.
Of course, I discovered the gay bars and clubs, as well as the go-go bars with their parade of near-naked boys, their erotic dances, and their live sex shows. All the boys wore a number so you could ‘order’ them for a private encounter at a hefty price. I wanted to make my money last, so I preferred to find guys more naturally – through dating apps, through the many saunas, and through introductions amongst my growing network of friends.
After several months in Bangkok I went travelling around Cambodia, Vietnam and Indonesia enjoying many happy encounters (and a few more seedy ones). But I applied for a work permit to come back to Thailand as a teacher. Then for four years, I settled down and established a farang life-style in the city. I leased out my studio in Leeds and rented a small apartment in Bangkok. I built a network of friends. And I started more serious dating with young Thai men, including a couple of serious relationships.
In public, these guys are very polite, shy and reserved. In private it can be a very different experience. In the cities, a gay lifestyle is very common and widely accepted. Most of what I fantasised became true. The young guys were slim, attractive, and versatile. Their bodies were often smooth and responsive. Many Thai men look a lot younger than their true age. You have to be careful about being entrapped for money. I guess my relationships and most of my encounters were all legal – though several of the teen boys certainly fulfilled my fantasies about being very sexual with a willing twink boy.
But this is neither the time nor the place to describe this part of my life. I have written about it in detail elsewhere. Rather, I set it out as the background to this current story. After all this exploration of my nature and desires, I’d returned to England, to my studio flat in Leeds, seeking to re-establish myself here, at least for a time.
oOo
Back home, I’d reclaimed my little flat from the tenants and I’d found a teaching job to keep me going financially. I’d picked up with a few old friends, though many had moved away, got married, or were off doing other things.
My sex life was more staid. I certainly wasn’t celibate – I was visiting the bars and clubs and I was cruising around on the hook-up apps for some casual encounters. But it didn’t have the spice of life in Bangkok. And rarely did it offer the same attractive boys in the flesh. Of course, there were always attractive young men and boys to be seen on the streets of the city, particularly at weekends, but they just weren’t sexually available in the same way.
I found myself increasingly resorting to porn. The number of video-streaming sites seemed to have increased dramatically and I soon found the genres and categories that stimulated me. I started reading stories on Nifty, particularly those in the Adult-Younger, Incest, and High School sections. And I discovered a treasure trove of teen and young men photos and videos on Tumblr, though some of these clearly violated the site’s guidelines and were often quickly removed. My most active sex life seemed to be solo, one-handed wanking whilst viewing and reading porn, erotic stories and images.
oOo
It was the end of the Easter term at school. I had two weeks off work. I’d arranged to go to stay with a straight friend in London for one week and explore some galleries, museums and shops. The other week was less organised until my brother and his wife suggested that, since I hadn’t spent time with them for several years, I might like to visit them over the Easter holiday weekend.
They lived in a small village in the Eden valley in Cumbria. It was a quiet, sleepy, rural area. I’d been born and brought up near-by in Carlisle where my parents still lived.
Ben, my brother is seven years older than me. Because of this age difference, he was always way in front of me through school and university. He’d qualified as an accountant and was now working for a large accounting firm in Carlisle. He commuted there every day. He, and Debbie his wife (my sister-in-law) had chosen to live in the country because, as they said “we liked the higher quality of life”. They certainly lived in a nice house in a beautiful village with plenty of countryside and fine open views all around – but it was way too quiet for me. I loved getting out into the fresh air, and as a student, I’d done lots of fell-walking and rock-climbing, staying in youth hostels or under canvas. But I liked my creature comforts as well; and I wanted easy access to the buzz of the city (and the range of men who inhabited the urban jungle).
Ben and Debbie had been childhood sweethearts. They’d started dating in high school. I think Debbie was my brother’s first and only real girlfriend. Even from when I was 7 or 8, I can remember them going around together. My parents seemed to approve of this relationship and certainly did nothing to dissuade my brother. I was too young to know the full story, but somehow Debbie got pregnant when she was around 17 and very soon after, she and Ben got married. I guess that must have been quite difficult for both of them. My brother was just finishing high school and planned to go on to university. Debbie’s parents provided them with a couple of rooms to start out in their married life in their large home. They helped with quite a lot of the childcare whilst my brother went off to Manchester University for his accounting degree, returning every weekend for three nights. Later on, Debbie was able to pick up on some part-time college education. She became a teaching assistant in Carlisle and eventually, through part-time study and in-service training, she qualified as a teacher. She now works part-time at the school in the village where they live.
That first early pregnancy produced a son, Mark. I remember the excitement around him being born. I was still 11 and I remember thinking how strange it was that he was my ‘little nephew Mark’, and that he would grow up to think of me as ‘Uncle Steve’. I certainly didn’t think of myself as an uncle when I entered high school that year.
Just over two-and-a-half-years later, I became an uncle for the second time. Given the amount of studying my brother was doing, and the pressures on their domestic life, I guess this might have been a bit of an accident. Anyway, along came Jack. For a long time he was the ‘baby’ in their family and everyone made a great fuss over him.
A few years later, Ben was qualified and had secured his first job. Being some kind of accountant he seemed to be able to make money work for him. They bought a small house in Carlisle but a couple of years later sold it and moved out to the larger house in the village where they still live today. Debbie got her teaching job and everything seemed to settle down. Then, just three years ago, they had their third child, Charlotte. The two boys are growing up and Charlotte has taken up the role of being the baby in the family.
So, after over four years away from my family, it was into my brother’s home that I was invited to spend several days over Easter. They planned to bring our parents over to share some meals and suggested that we could all relax together over the long holiday weekend.
I drove in my third-hand wreck of a car to their house on the Thursday evening before Easter – probably the longest drive the car had made in years. As I pulled up onto the drive, Ben came out to greet me. We hugged and joked and he helped me with my bag of clothes and some food and wine that I’d brought as a gift. When we got back inside, Debbie came through from the kitchen to greet me. She’d prepared some dinner for us and as it was quite late, she wanted us to sit down straight away and enjoy it. I insisted on opening a bottle of wine to celebrate our ‘family reunion’ for the weekend. I hoped the alcohol might help ease any tension after such a long time apart.
“Where are the kids?” I asked.
“Well,” began Debbie, Charlotte is already asleep I hope, “You’ll meet her in the morning.” I’d never seen Charlotte before. She’d been born about a year after I moved out to the Far East.
“And the boys were invited out to some party at a friends’ house. They should be home soon and you’ll meet them,” added Ben. “I hope you still recognise them. They’ve grown a lot whilst you’ve been away. Mark’s growing up into a little man now. But Jack’s still the rascal he always was.”
“They’ll have to go to bed pretty quickly. They need to be up and off early in the morning,” said Debbie. “They both play in junior football teams and there are matches tomorrow down in the south of the county. You’ll still get a chance to say ‘hello’ to them before they disappear though. They’re both looking forward to seeing their uncle again after such a long time.”
“Me too,” I replied, “You sent me some photographs whilst I was away, but I still think of them as little boys.”
“Oh, you’re in for a surprise then!” There was a pause before my brother continued, “Since Charlotte was born, we don’t really have a guest bedroom anymore. We thought about offering you the sofa to sleep on, but what with everyone coming-and-going all weekend, that wouldn’t be such a good idea.” I was about to make a polite protest, although privately I definitely wanted my own privacy. “Anyway, we decided to move Mark in with Jack in his room. One of them can sleep on the bed and the other will have to manage with a blow-up mattress. I’m sure they’ll complain and fight over it, but it’s only for a few nights.”
Debbie added, “And that means you can have Mark’s bedroom. It’s on its own up in the attic. There’s a little shower room and toilet up there as well. We made the attic conversion a couple of years ago. It’s all sloping eaves so be careful not to bang your head. I asked Mark to tidy it up for you, but I guess you will still be falling over boy’s stuff. Anyway, you’ll be quite private up there and we’ve told the boys to keep out.”
“I’m sure it will be absolutely fine,” I said, somewhat relieved.
“Let’s take your bag up there then, and I’ll show you where everything is,” said Ben.
As Debbie started to clear the table, I followed my brother into the hallway and picked up my bag. I followed him up two flights of stairs, past their bedroom and the other first-floor bedrooms and main bathroom, to the top floor. He pushed open a narrow door to show me the small shower room that had been carved out of the roof-space. Then another two steps led to the bedroom door. As Debbie had warned, the room was pretty crammed. A 3-foot bed occupied the centre of the room. Several chests and cupboards stood against the other walls, pushed in against the sloping ceilings. A dormer window looked out over the fields behind the house. The surfaces were covered with a TV, a laptop, an X-box and piles of disks. Scattered across the floor to one side were a guitar, sports bags, tennis racquet, bags of clothing, and several piles of books. The floor space from the door had been cleared leading all the way along one side of the bed which was covered with a bright jazzy duvet. A bedside table and drawer had also been cleared leaving just a lamp and a couple of books. “I hope you’ll be OK in here. If you need more space, you can just shove some of Mark’s stuff out of the way. I don’t suppose he’ll even notice.” I assured him I would be fine.
I dumped my bag on the floor and went to use the little toilet as Ben turned and went downstairs. As I followed him down a couple of minutes later, I heard the sound of car doors slamming and the front door opening followed by excited voices. Mark and Jack had clearly returned.
I entered the living room. “Boys, come and say ‘Hello’ to your Uncle Steve,” shouted Debbie towards the kitchen where the boys were getting some drinks.
They came back through to the living room, with the older boy Mark leading the way. “Hi Uncle Steve,” he said somewhat sheepishly as he took a gulp of his drink. Behind him, Jack said nothing but just grinned at me. It must have been the best part of five years since I’d last seen my nephews. I could recognise the boyish features of Jack across this time period, but Mark was completely different. He must have been 9 or 10 when I last saw him; now he’d grown upwards into an adolescent boy. Although still slim, his body had filled out, his face was maturing, and his voice had dropped. It was almost impossible to capture his looks – somewhere between ‘cute’ and ‘smart’. He was wearing a baggy tee-shirt and sagging jeans, disguising the overall shape of his body, but there was sufficient evidence to reveal a highly attractive teenager in the making.
“Hi Mark. Hi Jack,” I said, “Long time, no see. You’ve really been growing since I last saw you.”
We all sat on various chairs in the living room and the conversation continued primarily between me, Ben and Debbie. Young Jack had picked up a tablet and was occupied playing some kind of game. Mark was listening to our conversation and looking across at the adults. I found myself sneaking a look at him from time to time. I noticed his fresh face, his mop of brown hair, his blue eyes, and his relaxed demeanour as he lounged in the armchair. No matter how hard I tried to resist, my glances kept dropping to his crotch, in the hope of making out something of his stage of development, but there was nothing evident to go on.
Not long afterwards, Debbie sent the boys off to Jack’s bedroom. Mark put up a show of resistance, but Debbie reminded them of the long day ahead playing in a football competition.
Half-an-hour later I went up to bed myself. I stopped briefly outside Jack’s nearly-closed bedroom door, but it was dark inside and no sounds were escaping. I climbed the stairs to the top floor, brushed my teeth in the little bathroom, and entered the bedroom. This was Mark’s room. I looked at it afresh. The bedroom of a teenage boy fast growing up. I undressed and climbed beneath the duvet. This was his bed. I tried to imagine his life as I looked at his piled up possessions all around the room. I thought back to my life at his age as I sought to recall just how far I’d developed by that time. The next few days were either going to be full of unexpected youthful eye-candy – or they were going to be excruciatingly awkward and embarrassing.
oOo
Normally I don’t sleep too well for the first night in a strange place. Maybe it was the quiet country air, or the soft comfort of the single bed, but I slept through until around 8 o’clock. What woke me was the sound of running water. For a few moments, I tried to place it. I looked around the room until it dawned on me that it must be the shower in the little room next door. The sounds of water inevitably made me want to pee. I contemplated going downstairs to the main bathroom but that would mean finding some clothes to put on and in any case I reasoned that the person using this shower must have chosen to do so because the other bathroom was in use. The shower stopped and I waited for the person to emerge and descend. Nothing happened. There was the odd noise from the bathroom but the door remained closed for several more minutes. Eventually, I heard the toilet being flushed, the door unlocked, and the sound of a light tread descending on the stairs. It was probably one of the boys, I guessed.
After a short interval, I swung my feet out of the bed, reached for a towel to put around my waist for decency in a strange house, opened the door and stepped across into the little bathroom. I closed and locked the door, unwrapped the towel, and sat myself on the toilet to relieve myself. Although the room had an extractor fan, the mirror was misted with steam and the shower screen was covered in water drops.
With my ablutions over, I stood up as the steam evaporated. It was then that I saw it. A large blob of something that had clearly trickled down the mirror making a track through the foggy mist. My heart almost skipped a beat. I felt instinctively that I knew what it was, but I needed to lean in closer to check. Yes! I was right. This was definitely a gob of cum. I touched it with my finger tip as the droplet reached the foot of the mirror. I lifted my finger first to my nose to sniff it and then to my lips to taste it. The unmistakeable smell and taste of cum was confirmed. I looked around more carefully and found two more gobs, one behind the tap, and the other on the rim of the basin. Their original white texture was dissolving into a watery liquid.
I stood still in amazement. Whoever had just left the shower-room ahead of me had been wanking. That probably explained the delay between leaving the shower and exiting the bathroom. Not only that, but he’d left the evidence of his cuming. But who? Was this my brother who’d sneaked up to the top-floor bathroom for a private wank? It didn’t seem very likely when he shared a bedroom and a bed with his wife. I couldn’t really see Jack wanking like this just yet. So that left only Mark. This bathroom next to his solitary bedroom was probably regarded by Mark as part of his ‘private space’. Not only was he an attractive-looking adolescent teen, on this evidence he was definitely into wanking. Just the thought of it was causing me to become aroused. With my own cock extended to the horizontal, I checked the door was fastened and turned on the shower. I needed to do something to control the images being played out in my mind.
After I’d showered, shaved and dressed, I descended to the kitchen. Breakfast was in full swing. The three children sat around the dining table as Debbie and Ben organised cereals, made toast, got more milk from the fridge and generally cleared up. I sat in a vacant chair next to Mark and helped myself to some cereal and juice. Three-year old Charlotte was pushing some milky bread into her mouth. The boys were finishing off their plates. Both were dressed in dark blue tracksuits, presumably covering their football kit. There was lots of excited talk around the table about everyone’s plans for the day. Some other parents were due shortly to transport Jack and Mark to the football competition which would last all day. Debbie was making them both a packed lunch. They wouldn’t be back until the evening. In one part of my mind I wondered whether wanking before a match would affect Mark’s performance on the pitch – but then I realised that that probably every other boy his age was doing the same thing in the morning. A car-horn sounded outside the house and both boys rushed to collect their bags. With a flurry of activities and good wishes, they disappeared out of the door. Quiet descended on the house. Ben and Debbie returned to sit down for their breakfast. A more civilised conversation followed as we talked about our plans for the weekend.
That day I drove myself into Carlisle to visit my parents. We had some coffee in their house and then we all went out for a pub lunch. Afterwards, I wandered around the city centre for a time revisiting old haunts from my boyhood and buying one or two gifts for my brother and his wife. When I got back to my parents’, they conjured up some tea and more food. I said my good-byes to them, knowing they were coming over to Ben’s for a large family lunch on Sunday. The evening was spent at my brother’s, eating a leisurely take-away Indian meal, drinking some beers, and casually watching TV. The boys returned around 9pm. Jack’s team had done well in the competition, but Mark’s had encountered stiffer opposition. Somewhere during the day they must have eaten. Both boys went upstairs quite quickly and could be heard playing games on their consoles and watching some loud show on the bedroom TV.
oOo
Next morning, I wondered if there was to be a repeat performance in the shower-room. I lay in bed listening to the sounds of the house as it awoke: a cry from Charlotte; doors opening and closing; feet running down the stairs; a smell of burnt toast wafting in the air. Before long, there were soft feet climbing up the stairs towards the attic bedroom. The bathroom door opened. Someone entered and locked it. The shower was turned on. I was more than ever convinced that it was Mark showing just the other side of the wall from his own bedroom. I closed my eyes and tried to imagine the scene in there. A teenage lad stepping out of his pyjamas – maybe giving a pull on cock – was he cut or uncut? (uncut, I reckoned, just like his dad and uncle) – maybe with a boy’s morning erection – was he intend on jerking himself again this morning? – what size was he now? – did he like to piss in the shower? - soaping himself all over and between his legs – turning his backside towards the wall, if only I could see through it – imagining the soft, smooth, round globes of his butt – my hand reaching forward to touch his crack ever-so-gently – the things I could show him, teach him ....
My hand was cupping my balls beneath the duvet as the fantasy of my naked nephew’s body played through my imagination. I flicked through the images of similar boys I’d seen scrolling though my Tumblr account in recent months – some by the pool in swimming trunks with crotch bulges showing – some walking out of the sea in Bermuda shorts clinging to their thighs – some splayed out on a sofa, smiling at the photographer, naked butt on show – one or two standing in the bathroom, taking selfies of themselves in the mirror, proud of their emerging manhood. Maybe Mark could be as good as any of them.
As I played with myself, I became aware that the shower had stopped. Now he too was probably stroking himself to his morning orgasm just as I was doing.
But no! The bathroom door was unlocked; a step sounded outside on the stair. A soft knock sounded on my door.
“Hello?” I said.
“Are you awake Uncle Steve? Sorry. It’s Mark.”
“What is it?”
“I just wondered if I could come in and get some clean clothes for today. I won’t be a minute.”
Oh shit. What was I to do. I pulled the duvet up to cover me. I made a series of folds in it around my waist. I didn’t want any tell-tale signs. “Sure, Mark. You can come in.”
The door opened tentatively. “I didn’t want to wake you up. I just need a few things from the drawers. I’ll be very quiet.” He stepped tentatively into the bedroom. His hair was tousled and damp from the shower. He carried some blue cotton pyjamas over his arm. His chest was bare, displaying the bone structure of his shoulders, clavicle, and the faint outline of his ribs. His two brown aureoles sat like buttons on his chest each with a sharp little nipple. Around his waist he’d tucked a green bath-towel that reached to his calves. If I’d been able to photograph him in that moment, I would have immediately uploaded it to Tumblr to join all the other images. I quickly glanced downwards but there was no sign of any prominent erection; perhaps he’d cum earlier and subsided.
He gave me a grin and walked directly to one of the chest of drawers. As he rummaged in the drawers I was able to take in the sweep of his back from the shoulders, down to the vertebrae of his backbone, to the tapering waist. The folds and fabric of the towel must have been wrapped a couple of times around his body leaving his butt tantalising concealed. He pulled out a clean tee-shirt from one drawer and then a pair of white pants from another.
“How was the football yesterday?” I asked, urgently trying to find a way to keep him in the room for a few moments longer. “Did you score any goals?”
“No, we got well and truly beaten. They were much better than us. But I think most of them were older. Our coach says we’re quite a young team and it will take us a year or two to reach our peak.”
As he spoke, he bent forward and lifted one foot. He held the Y-front briefs by the waist and put his left foot through the hole. Then he swapped feet and stood through the other hole. He started to pull the briefs up his legs. It’s awkward dance to do it whilst keeping the towel in place. As his hands pulled the briefs higher, the towel rode up until he managed to reach beneath the hem of the towel and finish the manoeuvre. He made a couple of adjustments to himself to make sure everything was in place. He picked up the tee-shirt and started to pull it over his head. As he lifted his arms up, I caught side of the soft, light fuzz of new underarm hair. The tee-shirt caught on his damp back and stuck there leaving a bare line of midriff on show. His hand moved to the towel and started to untuck it. As the towel fell away, the teenager stood revealed: brown mop of hair, cute face, blue tee-shirt, smooth belly, white Y-fronts probably a size too small, above long thighs beginning to show his adolescent muscle development. Oh my! Click, click, click. I wanted to photograph every moment. This boy, my nephew, was gorgeous.
“Did you used to play football at school?” he asked innocently standing beside the bed.
“Yes – but I was never that much good at it. I used to do a lot of swimming. And then I joined the scouts and we did a lot of camping and adventuring. I think I’ve always preferred more individual sports – like swimming, canoeing, fell-walking. When we lived in Carlisle, the Lake District was very close. And at university I did a lot of climbing and walking. We used to go out at the weekends into the Peak District, North Wales, and up here to the Lakes.”
“Do you mind if I ask you something, Uncle Steve?”
“No, of course not,” – anything to keep him in sight like this for a few moments more – “What do you want to know?”
He sat himself down on the edge of the bed. I had to grab the duvet to stop it being pulled to one side and giving away my excitement. “Well, I remember you a bit when I was in primary school, but then you went away. Mum says you went exploring in Asia and then you got a job in Bangkok. I was wondering: what made you go away like that for so long? What was it like to live in a strange country like that?”
“Well, I guess I just wanted an adventure – somewhere different to home. Living and working in Leeds just seemed so ordinary and perhaps boring. When I got to Bangkok it was exciting, vibrant, colourful and ... different.”
Mark went on to ask me several questions about my travels and the countries I’d seen and the jobs I’d done to earn some money. He seemed genuinely interested. We must have chatted for quite a few minutes in a adult way and as I responded to him my tumescence gradually subsided beneath the bedcover. I wondered what was prompting his interest.
“Uncle Steve ... umm ... can I ask you something more personal?”
“Well, I’ll try to answer you Mark. What is it?”
“I know it’s none of my business. And really you can tell me to shut up and go away. It’s just that I once heard my Mum saying you were gay and that might be the reason you went away – like you couldn’t really be yourself here in England – and that maybe you would find a boyfriend in Thailand.” His question dried up and he looked away from me. “Or something like that,” he added as a quiet afterthought.
Wow, my nephew really was growing up if he was prepared to ask me about this. For a few moments I found myself looking at him as he sat on the bed. I could have reached out and touched him. He looked almost vulnerable in his dampened tee-shirt with his belly showing beneath the hem. I had to restrain my own hand from placing itself on the smooth, bare expanse of his thigh. I noticed the thigh disappearing up into the high-cut side of his briefs. The white cotton fabric was stretched across the rounded seat of his buttocks. A reasonably-sized bulge was extending the doubled fabric of the pouch outwards from his privates. Desire for this boy coursed through me again and I was aware of my shaft thickening again.
“Your mum’s right about my sexuality, Mark. I am gay. I’ve known that for a long time – since I was a boy at high school. I came out to my parents – your grandparents – when I was about eighteen. I told your dad about the same time and it’s never been a secret in the family. Your mum and dad have always been very supportive. Maybe that’s part of the reason I went to Asia – to explore, to live more freely, to meet different people.”
“And did you? I mean, did you find a boyfriend there? What made you want to come back?”
“Mark, as you keep growing up, you’ll find yourself attracted to various people. It would be very unusual for someone in their twenties not to have had a girlfriend or boyfriend. Yes, I found people that I really liked in Thailand. I had a boyfriend; actually, I had two or three boyfriends whilst I was living there. Whilst those relationships lasted, I really enjoyed them. Then maybe I got a little homesick and I wanted to see whether I could make a similar life back here.”
I was looking at him as I answered his questions. He was sitting sideways to me and only glanced towards me from time to time. I tried to follow the direction of his look. He seemed to be staring at the chair under the eaves – the chair on which I had put my clothes when I’d undressed to go to bed – on the top of which was a pair of discarded, red, hipster briefs.
“What else do you want to know Mark?” I asked him gently. A big part of me wanted to sit up and touch him, put my arm around him, play the role of reassuring uncle. I also knew that lust for this boy was fuelling my desire. But any move on my part risked exposing more of my aroused body and there was no way I could let him see me like that.
His eyes wandered back to me for a moment. “I suppose I wondered how anyone knew they were gay. I mean, there’s a boy in my year group at school and everyone says he’s gay. He dressed a bit different, but he’s just the same as everyone else. And yesterday, in one of the football teams we played against, there were two boys and I heard their mates talking about them as being boyfriends. They were both good players; I didn’t notice anything going on between them.”
“Gay guys and straight guys look just the same. You certainly can’t tell by looking at someone.” Uncle was being called upon to provide life education here. “Right through from around the age of maybe ten onwards, most boys find themselves starting to be attracted towards particular friends and people. I remember it was really confusing for several years. But over time, you begin to notice how various girls, or various boys, attract your interest – even if you never talk with them. I guess it’s really about how they make you feel inside. Whether they make you feel warm and good, whether you want to be with them more. Sometimes you find yourself thinking about someone when you’re apart. Or maybe you notice who you think about in your dreams or your imagination.”
Could I be more explicit than this? Was my nephew asking me about this generally or specifically?
“It didn’t take me long to work out that the people I preferred most were other boys. As I became more physically mature, that feeling just became stronger. That’s when I started to look around for other boys who might feel the same as me. Of course, it took a bit longer for me to have the courage to tell anyone else.”
“Yes, I see Uncle Steve.” He turned to look down at me again as he stood from the bed. His hands were holding his pyjamas bunched in front of him. Was he embarrassed to be seen standing there in his underwear – or did he feel the need to conceal something? “Thank you. I didn’t mean to pry into your private life. What you were telling me about living in Asia is very interesting ... And the other stuff, too. I don’t think I could talk to my Dad about that kind of stuff. But it’s quite easy with you – you’re like a stranger and also part of the family.”
I smiled at him as he moved towards the door. “That’s cool, Mark. You can talk to me anytime. I’ll try and answer your questions – about anything.”
“Thanks. I better go and get dressed now.” He turned and opened the door. I watched him step outside, drinking in the sight of his slim back, his white-encased bubble butt, and his smooth thighs. Oh, what would I have done with a boy like that in Thailand?
As I listened to the sound of him descending the stairs, my hand reached under the duvet to grab my rock-hard cock. The fantasy of Mark in the shower, his presence on the bed in his underwear, the conversation we’d just had – they’d all got me really worked up. I need to cum and shoot a load. I pushed the duvet back and looked down the length of my naked body as I began pumping with my right fist and playing with my balls with my other hand. What would he have thought if he’d seen me like this? A frisson of excitement passed through me: I was wanking in his bed and he could walk back in at any time. I thought of him in the shower next door. I tried to image what his cock must look like inside those Y-fronts. My cockhead was leaking clear juice over my fingers. I closed my eyes to recall the sight of his butt in those pants. More than anything I wanted him to lean forward over the bed. I wanted to pull those briefs down and reveal his boy ass. I wanted to push my hardness through between his thighs. I wanted my cock to rest in the crack of his ass so he felt my throbbing excitement.
My hand was working furiously as the quick, intense orgasm approached. My seed rose from my root and shot out of my purple cock-head. The first blast landed high on my chest. This was followed by more jets that streaked across my torso and pooled on my belly. I stroked until the last drop was squeezed out of me and ran over my fist. My body was covered in white trails of cum.
Shit, I didn’t have anything to wipe myself with in this different bedroom. There were no familiar tissues on the bedside table. My discarded clothes were out of reach on the chair across the room. Even the towel was hanging on the back of the door. I felt around on the floor and looked around for something to use. My eye caught sight of a drawer in the bedside table. Trying hard not to let the juices run off my body, I twisted slightly to open the drawer and feel inside with my hand. I could feel pens, cards, a torch, and then something cloth-like. I grabbed it with my fingers and lifted it out. It was a face flannel. Great! I could wash it out afterwards. But the flannel wasn’t soft as I’d expected. It was creased and crusty. I brought it closer and realised with a shock what it was. This was a cum-rag. It was crusty because it had been used to wipe up several loads of cum. I sniffed it to confirm. Yes, definitely, this was cum. And that meant it must be Mark’s cum. He too lay in bed like this wanking himself just like I’d done. He too needed something to catch his cum or wipe himself afterwards. I wiped the soiled towelling over my fingers, my belly and finally my cock to dry myself. There was an unmistakeable thrill to share this most intimate ritual with my young nephew.
Then the final realisation dawned. I wouldn’t be able to clean the face flannel of my evidence. If I did, and replaced a soft clean flannel in the drawer, Mark would know that I’d found it. It could only go back used and soiled into its hiding place – only this time, with both my cum and that of my nephew all over it.
oOo
By the time I’d showered, dressed and got downstairs, the whole household was gearing up for the day. It was Easter Saturday and everyone seemed in holiday mood. The boys were playing on computers in the living room. Charlotte was watching kids TV. Debbie and Ben were making plans for the day and for the visit of my parents on the following day. It seemed that we needed to do a big supermarket shop in Penrith to buy food for the whole weekend, and then Debbie wanted to go to a garden centre to buy some new plants for the garden. It took another half-hour for everyone to get ready to leave. My brother owned a big Ford estate car. I offered to take my old car as well, but he insisted we could all get into his. Debbie sat in the front and the rest of us piled into the back. Charlotte had a child seat leaving Jack, Mark and me to squash up on the rest of the bench seat. The two boys shared the seat belt in the middle of the seat and I was jammed against the door. Sitting close up against Mark, about whom I just spent an hour fantasising, was both thrilling and dangerous. Part of my mind panicked about what I would do if he touched me or if I developed another erection. I tried to focus on the chatter amongst everyone, contributing inane comments from time to time.
We spent the day shopping ... and shopping. I was amazed at just how much food got piled into the trolley at the supermarket. We stopped for some coffees and snacks in the supermarket’s restaurant before driving on to the out-of-town garden centre. Debbie asked me for my advice about plants but I didn’t have much of a clue. In the end she bought several rose bushes, some herbs for a planned new herb garden, some seeds for the flower beds, some compost bags, and a couple of larger bushes. If the car had been full in the morning with six of us in it, it was positively stuffed on the way home. The plant pots and compost had to compete with over-flowing bags of groceries in the luggage space of the estate car.
Back at the house, the boys went out to play knock-around football in the garden whilst the rest of us unloaded and sorted the day’s purchases. I helped Debbie to start making some food for the evening meal. Ben busied himself with opening some wine and pouring us all drinks.
I felt very welcome in my brother’s home and we enjoyed a sociable evening together talking and joking with the TV playing in the background. The kids came and went from the room, sometimes asking us things and often disappearing to another room in the house. Throughout the day I found myself increasingly aware of Mark’s presence. I caught myself sending glances his way. I knew I was furtively trying to check him out physically. He was wearing skinny, stretch jeans that clung to his legs and his butt. The shape of his adolescent body was perfectly outlined yet tantalising concealed; there was no doubt he was growing up and developing as a young man. I felt desire rising in me each time he came close.
Occasionally he would ask me something, or we would talk together for a few moments, but he made no reference to our morning conversation in his bedroom. I didn’t feel I could initiate any continuation of the same topics in case he misunderstood (or, actually, did understand!) my intentions and interest. He didn’t talk about my life in Asia, nor ask me any more questions about being gay. I didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed that he seemed to have moved on from this line of interest.
As the evening drew to a close, Debbie went to put Charlotte to bed, and the boys came in to say ‘goodnight’. It was around 11 when I made my way back up to the attic bedroom and the scene of my vivid morning fantasy wank.
oOo
Next morning was Easter Day. I lay awake in the single bed as the house awoke below me. I waited to see if Mark would repeat his morning ritual of showering in the next room – and whether he would feel the need to bring himself off again, or whether he might enter the bedroom again. There was a definite pang of disappointment when I heard him descend the stairs without knocking on my door. Maybe he’d collected some clean clothes from his room during the previous day; or maybe yesterday he’d created a pretext to enter the bedroom and talk with me, and today he’d lost interest.
I dressed and went downstairs. Breakfast was in full swing – snatches of conversation, bowls of cereal, hurried plans, instructions to clean teeth, and a general sense of bustle and urgency.
My brother’s family were planning to drive into Carlisle to accompany my parents to an Easter Day church service. After that they were all going to drive back to the house for a family Sunday lunch. Debbie had already prepared some of the vegetables and was preparing to set the oven on auto-timer to start cooking the roast chicken. They asked me if I wanted to come with them. I declined. I didn’t really fancy another squashed drive in the car and, in any event, I wanted a little quiet time after a few days living in such a busy family environment. I offered to lay the dining table, finish preparing the vegetables, and make sure everything started cooking on time.
Shortly after I announced this, Mark piped up and said he didn’t feel like going into Carlisle either and would it be OK if he stayed home and helped me get the dinner ready. I was surprised – but I wasn’t going to object. Maybe there was something more he wanted to say to me. I saw Debbie and Ben look at each other across the kitchen but they readily agreed, ‘if Steve doesn’t mind having Mark hanging around’. I assured them it would be fine.
A quarter-of-an-hour later, I was standing out on the driveway waving the family off. As I turned to re-enter the house, Mark came up to me. “What would you like me to do to help?” I set him to work laying the table with cutlery, glasses and serving implements as he knew better than me where all these things were kept. I finished off preparing the vegetables and putting them into pans. Mark came back through and I put him to work washing and peeling some fruit for a fruit salad. We chatted a bit about nothing in particular.
When the jobs were done, I put on the kettle to make some coffee and poured Mark a glass of coke from the fridge. I told him I was going through to the living room with my coffee to read the paper for a few minutes. He disappeared upstairs and I heard the bedroom door open.
I lost myself in the paper for a time, trying to distract myself from fixating on Mark. All was quiet from upstairs. After a time I needed to pee so I put the paper down, rinsed out my empty coffee mug and went up to the house bathroom on the first floor. The door to Jack’s bedroom was half-open. Mark had been sharing this room whilst I slept in his bedroom.
“Is that you, Uncle Steve?” came Mark’s voice from inside. Who else was it likely to be, I thought.
“Yes – are you OK?” I asked.
“Oh yes, I’m fine.” Then, “You can come in if you like. After all, I invaded your bedroom yesterday.”
I pushed open the door and looked in from the threshold. This was clearly a younger boy’s bedroom. There were posters all over the wall and the wardrobe and a whole clutter of stuff from skateboards to sports kit to books all over the room. A mattress lay on the floor half-covered by a duvet alongside the single bed. Mark was lying on the bed, on his stomach. He held his phone in one hand and seemed to be watching YouTube or some video channel. But what I couldn’t help noticing was that he was wearing his tee-shirt on top and nothing more than a pair of briefs below. They looked like Y-fronts, similar to the ones he’d put on in front of me yesterday. And they looked just as tight stretched across his ass.
He turned his head to look at me and I quickly raised my eyes. “It’s OK, you can come in. Sorry it’s such a mess in here. That’s mainly down to Jack. Mum always telling him to tidy up the room, but it never seems to make much difference.”
“Yes, I’m sorry Mark. It must be a bit awkward and crowded in here for you having to share. Never mind, you’ll have your own bedroom back tomorrow.”
“Is that when you’re going?”
“Yes. I’ve arranged to visit some friends in London later this week.”
“Oh.” He sounded a little disappointed. “I thought you might stay longer. So I could get to know more about you.”
I took a step into the room. “Well, you can chat to me anytime. I’m not that far away now, in Leeds. I’m on the phone, and email. And I’ll probably see more of all my family now I’m in the UK again.”
“Would it be OK if I chatted to you sometime then?”
“Sure. Anytime. I am your uncle after all.”
“I know. You’re really easy to chat with. Like yesterday, I mean. You didn’t seem to mind me asking about your more personal life. I can’t do that kind of thing with my mum and dad.”
“Maybe that’s what friendly uncles are for,” I joked with a smile. Really Steve, I thought to myself, it’s like you’re trying to flirt with him. Be careful.
Mark turned over onto his side. He still held the phone in his hand but the screen was playing unwatched; eventually it fell out onto the pillow beside his head. In my peripheral vision I was mesmerised by his boyish legs rising from his shins, past his knees, to his thicker thighs and the place where they disappeared into his briefs. As I stood there, his hand moved down and he made an adjustment to his crotch. Under other circumstances, with someone much older, that would have been a definite come-on. But with Mark it must surely have been an innocent and unconscious gesture by a growing boy. Still, for a moment, my eyes glanced down at him. I could see the bulge in his pants: it pushed downwards towards the junction of his thighs, and outwards against the cotton fabric. Everything confirmed seemed to confirm the maturing of this boy.
He looked up at me from the bed. He must have caught my glance. I tried to look around the room. I made some inane comment about the trophies on display on a chest of drawers.
“You can sit down if you want,” he said. “I was going to ask you something.”
I looked back at him. The remark seemed innocent enough. The situation felt far from innocent. I cleared a chair of old clothes from beside the bed and sat down facing him.
“Well, I’m here now. Try me.” Where was he going to take this conversation? What was I doing in a boy’s bedroom with his parents away?
“Um,” he began, then stopped. “It’s kind of awkward.” Again, his hand moved to his crotch.
“That’s OK, Mark. I don’t imagine you’re going to say anything that will shock me.”
“Well, it’s something that I can’t really ask Mum or Dad. And I don’t want to ask the doctor. I don’t know who else to ask, so I thought of you.”
“Now you’re getting me worried, Mark. Tell me – what can’t you talk about with your parents?”
“Umm ....” he dried up again. He turned onto his back and pushed himself up the bed into a half-sitting position, his legs pointing towards me. I wanted to check his private parts again, but I kept my eyes steady on his face. “Well, Uncle Steve, you’re a man ... and it’s about my ... penis ... and sometimes it hurts me ... and I wondered if there was something wrong with me.”
“I doubt very much if there’s anything wrong with you, Mark. You look like a very healthy teenage boy to me. I promise I won’t be shocked or angry if there’s something that’s worrying you and you want to ask me about it. We can just be man-to-man. There’s no-one else in the house.”
“Do you promise not to tell my Dad? I would get really embarrassed if he knew.” By this time his right hand was definitely covering his lap
“I promise not to say anything to your Dad – unless there really is something wrong with you – which I doubt. So come on, tell me what’s worrying you.”
“Well .... it’s like this .... only it’s me that might get embarrassed ... at the end of my penis ... where I pee ... there’s some skin covering it ... and ... now when my ... penis ... gets bigger ... this skin slides back ... but it’s tight ... and sometimes it’s painful ... and I worry that it might split or break or something ... and then my penis will look all wrong. I don’t know what to do.”
It was evident that he was both embarrassed and anxious by this admission.
“Ah,” I said, with a grin, “Well that really is something that only another guy can help you with!” I laughed to ease his fear. “And really, from what you’ve said, there’s absolutely nothing to worry about. Would you like me to explain for you?”
“Yes, please. I just don’t want anything bad to happen to me.”
“OK, take a deep breath now. Nothing bad is going to happen to you.” I paused to gather my explanation. “Ok, Mark, so this is about your penis. And you’re a boy growing up to be a man, so you’ve probably been much more aware of your penis over the last couple of years.”
“Yes,” he confirmed.
“And what do you want me to call that part of you – penis is the biological name, but you and your friends might call it something else. What would you prefer me to use?”
“When I was younger, we used to call it ‘willy’, but now, my mates talk about it as ‘cock’ or ‘dick’.”
“OK, I’ll use different words to make it friendly. So you’re cock is getting bigger as you change from a boy to a man. You’ve probably seen that in other boys or in pictures. And your testicles – your balls – get bigger as well and they start to drop lower between your legs.”
“Yes, I know. That’s happening to me too.”
“The end of your cock is covered by something called a ‘foreskin’. It slides up and over the head of your cock leaving just the hole at the end which you pee through. This foreskin is designed to slide backwards and forwards over the end of your cock. Some men have it cut off – that’s called circumcision – but neither your dad nor I were circumcised so I doubt that you’ve had that done. Now you’ll have noticed that your cock can get much harder and bigger.” Mark was looking at me as I spoke and his hand was still holding his genitals. “I guess you already know this is called an ‘erection’ or a ‘hard-on’.” He nodded. “It’s what happens when you become a man. Sometimes you become excited, your cock gets hard and then you’re able to produce sperm – what most boys call ‘cum’.”
Again he nodded. “Yes, I know,” and he gave me a big grin, squeezing himself. “All of my friends are doing that now. Me too. It’s fun!” And he laughed, perhaps in relief at saying this.
“So when your cock grows like that and you get hard, this foreskin wants to slide back to expose the head of your cock. The head is full of very sensitive nerve endings, so the foreskin helps to protect them and keep them safe – when you’re walking about and your cock is in your trousers. But when you get very excited, the foreskin can slide back out of the way and all those sensitive nerve endings are exposed and give you even more of a good feeling.”
“But that’s not happening to me,” he exclaimed, “This foreskin is not going back all the way. What am I doing wrong?”
“I doubt you’re doing anything wrong. It just sounds like your foreskin is a little tight. You just need to practice pulling it back a little more each time. That way, the skin will start to stretch. What will make it a lot easier is if you use some oil, or cream or gel to help lubricate it. That will make it slide a whole lot more easily. You can try that when you soap yourself in the shower. Just find something that’s really slippery. The more you do it, the easier it will be.” I grinned at him. “And before you know it, you’ll find a whole new world of exciting feelings. Plus, your cock will get to its full size when the foreskin is pulled back and your cockhead is on display.”
“Really? It does go back sometimes, when I’m very excited but then it takes me ages to make it cover up again and I thought everyone would notice – it was sore.”
“Just keep doing it – in the shower, or the toilet or in the privacy of your bedroom – but make sure you use something slippy or oily.”
“I want to try,” he said eagerly. And as I sat there beside the bed, his hand moved inside the waistband of his Y-fronts and grabbed the end of his cock. Sure enough, his cockhead was covered by his foreskin. “What would you recommend, Uncle Steve?”
“Do you want me to look in the bathroom for something?”
“Yeah, please!”
I stood up and went through to the cabinet in the bathroom. I opened several tubs and tubes of cream to find something that was lubricating and non-sticky and. After a few moments I found a tube of some silky baby-cream that also had some aloe-vera in it. I reckoned that might be soothing. I took it back through to the bedroom. “Here, you can try this – just squeeze some out on your hand, cover the end of your cock and work it into the skin and your cockhead as you start to pull it back.”
Mark grabbed the tube from my hand. He pushed his briefs down below his balls. As used one hand to squeeze some cream onto the other hand, I had a full-on view of his tackle. He really was growing up fast. And growing! His cock lay to the left across the top of his leg. I reckoned it was already half-hard. His foreskin was partially retracted to expose the purple tip of his glans.
“I better leave you to it then,” I suggested, turning to give him some privacy.
“No, it’s OK, you don’t have to go. Just in case something goes wrong. Or you can tell me to do it differently.” By now he was rubbing his hand around the head of his cock. “You’re gay. I reckon you must have seen another guy’s cock before.”
I stood there at the end of the bed looking down at him. He was lying, half-sitting, half-propped against the bed-head, his cock in his hand. He was trying to ease the foreskin back.
“Use some more cream,” I advised, “Take it very slowly.”
As he rubbed and pulled, his eyes squinted in a spasm of soreness or pain. His cock was growing under the amount of attention. Now it was pointing up his body towards his belly. And then I watched his purple cock-head push out and his foreskin slid down his shaft, “Oh my God,” he exclaimed, “That’s happened to me before – but never like this.” His fist was gripping the shaft of his solid erection. The palm of his other hand was stroking across his glistening glans. He experimented with stroking it and wrapping it and squeezing it. There was cream and pre-cum across his fingers. He pushed his cock upright and away from his body to look at it. “Shit! It’s never been this big before. Look at that head on it – and my piss hole – it’s like a monster!” It was true. It had a fairly impressive shaft that was much longer than his fist – at least five inches or more.
“Yeah, that’s a pretty big cock Mark,” I said. I needed to move to sit on the bedside chair. My own cock was standing at full mast within my jeans. I needed to hide the evidence of my own excitement.
“And it feels so hot! It’s making me more excited than I’ve ever been. I’m sorry Uncle Steve, but I really need to make myself cum now. Normally I cum every morning when I wake up but I couldn’t do it this morning because Jack was awake. I seem to be cuming a lot – sometimes two or three times a day.”
I gave a little hoarse laugh. “That’s typical for a lad of your age. That’s what I was doing in my teens as well.”
Mark was completely focused on pumping with his fist. With his other hand he lifted his tee-shirt right up his chest. Then he pushed his pants down to his knees. Everything was on full display. His flat belly with the beginning of his V-lines, a patch of light coloured pubic hair above his strong and hard shaft, his balls with just the faintest sign of a few hairs appearing as they were pulled up tight to his body, the dark tunnel leading back between his legs, and this smooth boyishly-muscled thighs which were twitching and spasming as he writhed on the bed in pleasure.
I could so easily have unzipped myself and joined him. Oh, I wanted to. But I had the self-restraint not to make the situation any more compromising. I just sat and drank in the sight of this perfect teen giving himself over to ecstatic waves of pleasure.
His climax was approaching fast. His fist was moving furiously up and down on his shaft. His other hand was squeezing and releasing his balls. He pulled his knees upwards and I caught a sight of his crack and the rounded flesh of his buttocks. His breathing became faster until he finally held his breath before letting out a loud shout. His boy juices shot out of the end of his fully exposed helmet and arced through the air to land back on his chest. More shots of white semen followed to land on his belly. I watched as he slowed the pace and milked the final burst from the end of his shaft. Slowly he subsided.
I didn’t move. I wondered whether I should try and move quietly out of the room before he noticed me sitting there. Too late. He turned his head to look at me. “Wow – that was just incredible – the best ever. I’ll never forget this. Thank you so much Uncle Steve for telling me what to do. I just want to do it all over again.”
I smiled at him. “I think you’ll need a little recovery time first.”
“I know. Maybe this evening though – if I can wait until Jack’s asleep.”
“And you should keep using the cream. You may feel a little sore. But your foreskin will go back. Just keep exercising it whenever you can and I promise you it will keep getting easier.”
“Yeah, I will, thanks. But now I really need to wipe this up and I can’t move. Could you pass me that towel from the floor please?”
I bent down to pick up the towel. I was going to hand it to him to use until I thought about giving him a more friendly gesture. I grabbed the towel in my hand and leaned forward over his youthful body. I wiped the streaks of cum with the towel down his chest and abdomen. I dabbed the towel into his pubes, and I draped part of the towel over his recumbent cock. He smiled up at me. “Thanks!”
As I pulled my hand away from the towel, I noticed a drop of him cum on my finger. I made to wipe my hand on the towel and then stopped myself. I lifted my hand towards his face. “Have you ever tasted it, Mark?”
He looked at me and I saw a series of reactions pass across his face – shock, disgust and then intrigue. “Really? Can you do that?” and then “What does it taste like?”
“Try it. It can’t harm you. After all, you made it.”
He raised his hand to sniff my finger. Then, very gingerly, he pushed his tongue out and tentatively licked. After a moment, he laughed and licked the whole drop into his mouth. He savoured it for a moment. “Sweet! And sticky! Now I’ve eaten some of me!” and he laughed again.
“I reckon I’d better leave you to get dressed and decent again. Your folks with probably be back in an hour or so. I better go and put the food on to cook.” I turned and left the bedroom, closing the door behind me.
I quickly checked on the oven to confirm the auto-timer was working. Then I needed to attend to my own urgent needs. I ran back up the stairs to the attic floor and locked myself in the little bathroom. I dropped my trousers and boxers to release my very excited manhood. I watched myself in the mirror – much as Mark himself must have done previously – and pictured again what had just happened. The boy was hot. My lust for him was immense. I wanked myself furiously until I unloaded my balls all over the basin. And still my shaft stayed hard.
I wiped up, being careful to leave no evidence. I needed to compose myself just as much as Mark. Before too long, we would be three generations of my family sitting down to a conventional celebration around the dining table.
oOo
The next chapter should appear here within a month. Mark wants his uncle to take him camping and exploring in the hills. If you can’t wait that long, you can read any of my other complete books that are now available for download from https://payhip.com/tompickles. They all have similar subject matter! To mark the publication of the complete edition of Toby’s Secret Journal you can enter coupon 5TJ21934BN at the check-out for a 15% discount on all downloads until 30 June 2016
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