Date: Wed, 30 Jun 2021 20:50:14 +0200 From: Future Cole Subject: Uncle Chuck's Underwear Drawer (Part 22) This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Please do not read if you are under the legal age in your country or region. And please donate to Nifty if at all possible! --- The phone rang twice before being interrupted. "Hey Uncle Chuck, how are things going?" It was my nephew Ryan's voice on the other end. I was sitting at the kitchen table in just a pair of my Jockey briefs. I had just discovered that Ryan had taken to the internet and shared the details about all of the underwear escapades that had gone on between himself, his father Rich, my son Joey, and himself right here on Nifty. The dialogue, the stories...they were about us. And the half-hard cock hanging out the Y-front and my wet semen slowly getting absorbed into the white cotton were proof that I'd found that exposure arousing. "You know, things are much quieter up here after all of you guys left." I replied. Lazily, I squeezed myself from base to tip, drawing out the last of my load. I pinched it and brought it to my mouth. "I bet. I know we all had the best summer ever...definitely missing spending some time by the lake." I wondered if he meant just swimming in it or taking swallowing his uncle's and his dad's loads on the dock. "That's actually what I was calling you about. I wanted to see if you wanted to come up for a day sometime soon. I had a few things I wanted to discuss with you." "Oh really? Anything bad?" Ryan sounded concerned. "No, just some family stuff that would be easier to discuss in person." I didn't want to let him know I knew. Let the boy have some suspense in his life. "OK...I mean, I've got nothing going on this weekend. I could come up on Friday night after work." "If that works for you, it works for me." I said. We talked a bit more before ending the call. I hung up and then looked down. My cock had made its way back inside the wet fabric. --- The next couple of days went by in a blur. I'd wake up, read another part of Ryan's sordid story, and furiously stroke myself to completion. Then, a few hours later, I'd open up my laptop and do the deed all over again. I'd decided to dedicate that same pair of Jockeys just to storytime. I'd just let myself unload inside them or use them to sop up my seed. Each and every load in there was fully inspired by my nephew telling the world about his tighty whities fetish and about all of the times he'd jerked off or sucked off or gone beyond with his cousin, his father, and his favorite uncle. Needless to say, by the time the weekend came around and Ryan was pulling into the driveway, might briefs were not only a little bit crusty, but I could pretty much smell them through my lounge shorts. And I knew that not only would Ryan pick up on my scent, but it would drive him absolutely wild. --- Ryan and I had our usual chat, catching each other up on the latest in our lives. It was all fair normal, although I kept noticing Ryan's eyes drifting to my crotch. I poured us each a drink and sat next to each other on the couch, our legs firmly touching. Ryan leaned in close to me. "I've missed you, Uncle Chuck," he said, his eyes locked on my own. His tone was anything but familial but, in case I missed that, he placed his hand on my thigh. I decided to just go for it and I leaned in and placed my lips to his. I worried for a moment that things were different, now that we'd spent some time apart. But, no, it felt perfect. It wasn't a long kiss, but our mouths meshed together before we broke apart. "What is it that you wanted to talk to me about?" Ryan asked. "And does it have something to do with the fact that I could pretty much smell your undies from the driveway?" I laughed. Given that I was used to it, I knew I smelled but wasn't sure to what extent. So, I stood up and faced my nephew. "Are they really that bad?" I asked as I slipped my hands into the waist of my shorts and slowly pulled them down. As they hit the floor, I watched Ryan take in the sight of yellow splotches, some nearly brown from the sheer volume of semen I'd let dry into them. Ryan leaned forward slightly and sniffed. "I mean...bad isn't necessarily the word I would use," he replied. "And what are you wearing?" I asked, sitting down now in just my tighty whities. Now, Ryan stood and unbuttoned his jeans. He turned around and pulled them down, revealing the usual white cotton. As he reached his toes, a familiar tear became visible, aligned right with his hole. As he stood up and turned around, I was greeted with a familiar upside-down Y. "I couldn't come visit you and not wear these," he said with a smile. They were the pair I'd worn the night he discovered the footage of his dad and I fucking in the gym and Rich had encouraged him to have his way with me...and the ones he'd worn when that last special night when I'd loosened him up before my brother completely plowed him. Ryan sat down beside me again, our bare thighs now touching and sending a ripple of excitement through me. "Well, I wanted to tell you a little bit about how this," I gestured to my cum-stained old man briefs and then to Ryan's own tattered pair, "began. How the men in our family became underwear snatchers." Ryan looked excited. "So where did it all begin?" "So it started about forty years ago," I told Ryan, who leaned in excitedly. "I still remember the first time..." --- Now, just to give you the same experience Ryan gave, I'm going to change perspectives here a little bit. This is pretty much exactly the way I told Ryan. I've also added some portions in brackets to share what happened while I was telling Ryan. --- It wasn't my first time doing the laundry, but it was the first time it was my personal chore. Previously, I'd do it just when Dad needed the help, but now it was going to be my weekly duty. I went into your grandpa's room and it was like entering foreign territory. Your dad and I were rarely allowed in there...it was off limits to us except when helping around the house. I open up his closet and I still remember his musk just wafting out of the door. If you thought this was something else [I gestured at my stained briefs, which were quickly feeling tighter around my hardening erection], it was even more concentrated in there. On the floor was a wire hamper line with a canvas bag. I pulled the bag out and brought it with me to head downstairs. "Don't forget to sort out the whites from the colors," your grandfather said to me as I passed him by in the kitchen. "I don't want to end up with pink socks!" I nodded, nervous that it would be so simple to screw up this chore. I decided then I would need to be as diligent as possible, going through every article of clothing to be absolutely sure that nothing ended up where it shouldn't. It was always quiet down in the basement...you remember, right? It was finished, but no one spent much time down there expect when we had a lot of people over. I set up shop on the couch down there and dumped his dirty laundry all over the coffee table. It was easiest to grab the colors first, grabbing his jeans and his khakis and his button-down shirts. I brought them over to the washer piece-by-piece and loaded them in. On my last trip back to the coffee table I sifted through and confirmed not a black shirt or red sock was in the mix. It was a mountain of white. I poured some detergent and let the machine go. I knew it would take a bit more than half an hour, so I sat back down on the couch to let the time pass by. There wasn't a TV down there, so I looked at the book I was reading lazily, slowly getting more and more distracted by the pile of dirty laundry that remained--and the scent that wafted off of it. I put my book down and decided to inspect the pile. I lifted up one of his athletic socks. I didn't even need to bring it to my nose...it reeked. I tossed it to the side. I slowly peeled sock after sock from the table, winnowing down the stack of whites. Next, I lifted up one of his white tees. The armpits were visibly stained. I brought the neckline to my nose and inhaled. It was electrifying, the mix of deodorant and lingering cologne and his natural odor. I noticed myself stirring in my shorts. [My cock was now fully hard in my Jockeys, sticking straight out and pulling the waistband along with it. If I looked down, there was a gap wide enough to see my bush and the base of my cock. Ryan reached over and grabbed at me through the cotton, a couple hard squeezes that started at the bottom of the shaft and ended with a nice pinch on my head. He then reached into his own briefs and rearranged himself so his head was popping out the leghole of his undies.] I tossed the T-shirts aside, shrinking the pile even further. Finally, all that remained were pair after pair after pair of his briefs. I hadn't much thought about Dad's underwear, but seeing them on display intrigued me. They looked so similar to my own, but bigger and more exciting. I grabbed a pair and held it up. The waistband had a thin red line flanked on either side by a thin black line. Back in the day, it wasn't this loud brand name stuff. [I reached over to Ryan and pinched at the waistband of the Jockeys he was wearing.] His classic Hanes were simple, non-nonsense underwear. I don't know what inspired me, but I moved the briefs closer and closer to my face. Dad's scent intensified until the fabric was up against my face. I inhaled. It was just pure musk--his natural scent meshed with hints of his slightly sour body odor and the tang of any of his piss drops that the cotton had absorbed. I was rock hard and didn't know what to do. So I turned around and checked the staircase behind me. The door was definitely closed and I knew Dad was probably off to run some errands, so I unzipped my pants and let them drop. I didn't look much different than this. [I gestured to my bulge before reaching past my waistband and grabbing myself. As I began to stroke myself gently, I forced up a glob of precum which bled right through the thin fabric. Ryan reached over and rubbed it in, pleasuring my dickhead in the process.] I fished my cock out of my fly and began to stroke it as I huffed on my father's dirty underwear. [I used this point in the story to fish my cock out for Ryan, acting out the story in a way. I stroked myself gently as I continued.] I then put that pair down and grabbed another. I inspected them closed, looking inside the crotch to see where Dad's package had filled them out. Looking closely at this pair, I began to see visual remnants of him wearing the briefs. I got close and began to lick, tasting at those spots his cock had let drip out. [By this point, Ryan had his cock fully out and was stroking it, enraptured in my every word. I patted his wrist and told him to slow down, that this was just the beginning.] I was stroking with fervor, lapping up where Dad's cock had been. I'm not sure what prompted me to not just finish off with that pair. I put them down and grabbed another. This pair was crumpled up and had been hidden by the first two pairs I'd examined. As I unraveled them, I encountered a now-familiar stiffness to them. My dad had busted his nut in this pair of briefs. I brought them to my nose and sniffed deeply. [Ryan took this cue to shift himself to the side and lean in, sniffing at the cum-stained Jockeys I was wearing. "Just to feel like I'm there with you," he said, his mouth no more than inch from my shaft. He pressed down and I could feel him inhale through the fabric, quite sure that I was driving him wild.] I can still remember the way just breathing in his essence drove me right to edge. I began to stroke myself faster and faster until, finally, I had had enough. I stood up and let my seed spray all over my dad's white briefs. My seed fountained down all over the dirty tighty whities and I thrust myself in every direction to make sure my nut hit every single pair that was there. Except for the one that had driven me over the edge. No, those cum-stained shorts were going to be mine for future inspiration. I pulled my own briefs up, tucking my still-hard cock away before pulling my pants up. I then folded up the pair of Dad's that I was stealing and put them in my back pocket. --- "For later," Ryan capped off my story, sitting back up. His cockhead was throbbing in his hand after taking in this story. "Yes indeed...and if you keep yanking at that, you won't be able to enjoy what happened next."