Date: Wed, 31 Mar 2004 16:07:39 EST
From: KissAndCuddleGem@aol.com
Subject: POP FINDS A WAY (INSTALLMENT 1)

This story is purely a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons
living or dead, or to events that may have occurred, is purely
coincidental.

Moreover, none of the actions of the characters in this story is presented
with the intent to condone, approve, or sanction their behavior.

If it is illegal for you to read the material in this story for any reason
whatsoever, including but not limited to you not being of legal age, or, if
the content of this story is to the best of your knowledge and belief
unlawful in your particular jurisdiction, please read no further and close
the part(s) of my story that appear onscreen immediately.

The above-expressed disclaimer also does apply to any and all installments
of this story, including those, if any, following this installment.

All questions and/or comments with regard to this story, my fourth story
(and likely series) for Nifty, are most welcome; and, if you wish to
contact me, please feel free to email me at: KissAndCuddleGem@AOL.COM; and
I will most definitely respond to email, as appropriate.


Living in a suburb of Houston, Texas now with some of my late mother's kin,
I feel a bit removed from things from my distant past.  Yet one blessing of
suburban life is that it gives one time to reflect on where one comes from
and where one is going to, in life that is.  A birthday card from my
cousin, Floyd, my favorite boyhood chum, gets me all choked up; and as I
place it now on a window sill in my room, I think about to that period in
my life when I was living in New Haven, Connecticut and thought I had it
all.  Even now the faces in my memory, the ones I saw in the last years of
my teens, are very much in my mind at age thirty-six.  So I sat back in my
recliner and closed my eyes, allowing myself to drift back in time like a
raft in a shallow stream drifting aimlessly into deeper connecting waters.

"Jerry!!  For the last time, are you daydreaming again, son?  I asked you
for the umpteenth time if you can go over to the store and pick me up some
beer for tonight's game, oka a heavyset man in his early forties shouted
impatiently from the foot of the stairs.

I almost did not hear him, the noise from the shower spray had virtually
drowned him out.  "Sorry, Pop, I barely got out before the water turned
cold.  I could hardly hear you with all the running water."

"Oh, that's fine, but dry off quickly and go.  Also, don't forget the chips
this time and the...uhm...salsa.  Remember, we hate that vegetarian crap,
don't even think of getting that ever again."

"Yes, Pop, got it.  I just wanted to look nice for when your friends come
over." I said to Pop as I reached the foyer where now stood.

"Jerry, for the last time, it's just Syd, Sal, Ray, and Andy.  It's nice
you want to look nice and all.  But, jeez, these guys are like family to
us, there's no need for you to go to all the fuss.", Pop crooned.

I just hugged Pop tightly in response; and Pop smiled the sweetest smile.

Pop was never really angry with me, just not the most patient guy at times.
But for us this was pretty much our routine every two or three weeks.  Pop
and I communicated at least, many of my friends don't even see their dads
most of the time.  Besides, I was only sixteen years old, I did not expect
myself to have all the answers; and preferred to see things as I wished to
see them.  Though no rocket scientist, I knew how to pick up beer for my pa
flashing a cousin's ID.

Poker night for me meant that I could spend some of the evening in the den
sipping root beer watching a family entertainment film, something tame such
as "ET: The Extraterrestrial" or some syrupy comedy that Pop said was cool.
It also meant being on hand for Pop and his cronies on and off during the
night; and making sure that the beer was chilled and the salsa dip
replenished.  I often would find myself listening for the laughter, which
frequently echoed into the den, and sometimes while in the kitchen taking
care of the snacks for the "usuals", I would overhear the strangest
exchanges from the dining room where Pop and the others played.

"For the last time, you can't put that down, Donnie.  It ain't right, you
know, we won't let you.", Andy, the comedian of the group, insisted.

"Look, it's my house, right?  I can; and I have.  Further, I think you are
bluffing; and I am staying.", Pop announced.

"Well, we'll just see who is bluffing, won't we?  All right, have it your
way, I guess you are right anyway, a wager is a wager after all.", Andy
huffed.

The others circling the oval dining room table simply smirked at the
exchanged and were not particularly interested in anything other than their
beers and who could stay awake the longest far from sober.

Just as I had set down some more of the refreshments and had turned to go
back to the den, I heard the thump of cards being plopped on the table and
a disturbing gasp from Pop.  I hurried into the den and closed the door
tightly shut, there was something inside of me that did not want to know
anything more than what I did already.

I paid closer attention to Pop in the coming days.  Pop finally did tell me
that he did have something that he would have to tell me, but that, for
now, he was sorting things through.  He assured me that the matter could
wait, that things were on hold at least for now.

"No, Robby, he does not know yet.  Do you really think that this will work?
I mean he is so vanilla, so bland.  What do you mean you will see that he
is...uhm...ripe?  What do you mean by 'ripe', ", Pop was overheard by me
speaking softly into the portable phone.

Moments later Pop turned his attention to me: "Jerry, listen, you won't
believe this.  Uncle Robby has invited you to stay with him for the entire
Labor Day holiday weekend.  You might not remember his home in the
mountains in upstate New York, but, trust me, you loved it there as a
little kid, I defintely recall that."

I could not believe it.  I thought I was hallucinating.  I worshipped Uncle
Robby.  The man closely resembled a blond-haired version of Mister Clean in
the commercials, but that was not really why I just loved this man: He was
so sweet, easygoing, warm, and modest and also so fun to be with, one just
could not help but smile.  Plus Ma made him my godfather, so I knew that he
must be someone r special, at least in her eyes anyway, I could sense that.

The Labor Day weekend was finally in full-swing.  Shortly after my arrival
at Uncle Robby's home, a comfortable one-level house amid picturesque
landscaping and with a beautiful vegetable garden in the backyard, Uncle
Robby and I went skinny-dipping at a secluded nearby stream bordering his
property.

Uncle Robby intimated that we both needed to cool off.  I wasn't quite as
hot as Uncle Robby, though, still, he was my idol, so I went with the flow
as I usually did.  We were in the water goofing around and splashing one
another.  Suddenly, Uncle Robby^@ but moved towards me and we were then
standing right next to each other in water no higher than our waists.  I
was about to turn around to get a better look at a docked boat in the
distance when I felt Uncle Robby wrap his arms tightly around my waist as
he quickly repositioned himself behind me.  I was a bit startled, to say
the least, when I felt Uncle Robby's cock nestled between my milk-white
plump ass cheeks.  I found myself, reflexively, trying to remove myself
from his muscle-strong grasp.

Sometimes when one least expects it, things have a way of working out,
though for the life of me I could not fathom just what Uncle Robby had in
store for me.  "Surely Pop must be in the dark about this side to Uncle
Robby.", I thought to myself.  I really did not have much time to dwell on
any of this of course as I was struggling to get away.