UNCLE JULES -- 12
As I said before, Brandon. Before I was deflected by Lee.
Please don't think I am a total tart, but this was one of those extrordinary days when everything seems to happen.
After leaving Lee, I went back to Jules' suite and got washed and had a kip. I just lay down on the huge sofa with Jules' silk dressing gown on. It smelled completely of him.
When I awoke the room was full of warm twilight and a man was standing over me, staring down. I sat up, thinking it was Jules and my arms instinctively went up to him. But it wasn't Jules. It was Brandon.
"Is that the way you usually greet your uncle?" he asked in a dry voice.
I sat back, abashed. He wasn't smiling and looked fairly sinister and his staring eyes were off-putting. He wore a white suit and he looked very impressive. He was standing with his weight on one leg and the hand in his pocket was fishing about. I suddenly realised that the dressing gown I was wearing had risen up and that my cock and balls were on display. Funnily enough, I pretended not to notice this, just to see what he would do. Funnily enough, my cock was also getting semi hard. My hormones were raging today.
"So where's Jules?" he asked, sitting down, crossing his legs carefully, and lighting a cigarette. I don't smoke but the smell of his cigarette was great, astringent like himself.
One long-fingered hand held the cigarette delicately. The other was back in his pocket feeling for his cock. He stared at my equipment nonchalantly, as if from pure curiosity. I covered myself decently and sat up.
"Oh yes. He had to go out. Sudden panic."
He took this in with some disdain and sucked at his cigarette. His big lips closed on the thing with great delicacy. He sucked and breathed in the vapour, then expelled a thin long stream of smoke which formed a cloud above his head. The room seemed to grow darker, his eyes more luminous, his bald head shining like a crown.
"That's a pity," he said quietly. Why did it sound like a threat? "I had business to discuss."
He got up and went to the window, using the room as if it were his own. I padded across the thick carpet and stood beside him, watching him. I was leaning against a table and he suddenly reached out his long thin hand to half part the skirt of the dressing gown that lay over my thighs. He was staring at my equipment, fag in big mouth.
"I can see the attraction," he said smoothly. "Nephews like you are hard to find."
I was certainly not resisting. "Attraction?" I asked. I covered my thighs again.
"He fucks you?" said Brandon clinically and again he reached his hand and again uncovered me. It must have been obvious I was turned on. I dared not look at my cock, knowing that it would almost certainly embarrass me with its signs of eagerness.
I did not reply to his question, bearing in mind the relationship he had with Jules. This could be a tricky one. I decided to brazen it out and said "It seems that that idea excites you from the way you keep playing with yourself."
He smiled but there was more of sarcasm than amusement in the rictus. He took his hand out of his pocket and there was a bulge, quite a big one. I found his air of menace very sexy. Physically he was very attractive. Can't have been more than thirty. Very good looking in a darkly desirable way. I guessed he was one of those guys who are so well proportioned that you don't notice what a great physique they have until they are naked.
He said nothing more for now and sat upon the sofa without looking at me. He stretched his legs before him, heels dug into the carpet, and the bulge was even more apparent. One black hand was on the white trousers, adjusting himself in his underpants. It lingered, squeezed, and was then withdrawn.
"What sort of business you in?" I asked to make conversation and change the subject. I fancied the guy like hell, but this was too tricky for my simple mind. I was out of my depth.
He stubbed his fag out in the oversized ashtray that might also serve as a fruit bowl. He looked up at me, his eyes lingering over the dressing gown. He rested his head against the back of the sofa. "Deals," he said imagining that this explained things.
"What sort of deals?"
"All sorts of deals. Anything with big money. Your Uncle Jules is very good at it, you know. That's why he isn't here this evening."
"I don't understand."
" He knows what stage I'm at and has decided to avoid me."
"But his girlfriend..." Woops! I shouldn't have said that.
Brandon clicked on to the implictions straight away.
"She's a figment of Jules' imagination. He's just avoiding me, making me stew a bit. As I said, he's very good at it."
Did this mean that Jules had been lying to me? I felt a bit hurt at his want of trust in the nephew who would do anything for him. Or was Brandon doing this on purpose?
"But why did he leave you here?" Brandon wondered aloud.
Did he mean? Nah, Jules would never do anything like that. Would he?
"Chas, isn't it?"
"Yes it is, Brandon."
"Most people call me Mr Feresh."
"Even the ones you have just propositioned?" I was getting into my stride.
He smiled again, and this time there was even a hint of admiration. This guy actively enjoyed his little games.
"I'm thinking dark thoughts, Chas. Thinking that your dear uncle may have set me up for something." He looked around the room suspiciously. "No sign of a camcorder," he mused. "But then there wouldn't be."
His doubts made me bolder. I sat in an armchair opposite him. I sat a la Jules with my legs wide open. I flexed a couple of times. I knew exactly what he would be seeing, my hanging balls and a semi hard cock.
I could sense his doubts growing stronger, also his desire. The bulge had risen. I guessed that the risk factor was a big turn-on for him. With a stroking movement of his hand he flattened his erect cock so that it was upright against his belly. A delicious curve, a sweet bow. I longed to feel it.
"Dark thoughts," he repeated in a high-pitched whisper, staring at my own erecting phallus hungrily. He was wondering if he dared. And I hoped he would.
I flexed again and his hand went into his trouser pocket. Again I flexed, as wide as I could. I guessed he could now see the sweet curve of my buns under my curving thighs. He started to stroke himself, staring at my genitals as if he were trying to set them on fire. A few more discrete adjustments of his underwear and he had his erect cock in his fist. It looked very good even through the cloth of his trousers and panties.
I could feel that I was now fully erect, the dressing gown parted at cock level. He could see that I wanted him and he sure as hell wanted me. But the impossibility of our coming to any valid arrangement resulted in this erotic stand-off.
The whites of his eyes grew bigger and he was muttering to himself. "Fucking beautiful... Mmmm, to get inside that sweet arse... Have to be so careful... Damned fucking Jules I'll fuck him for this..."
I undid the cord of the gown and lay back in my armchair. My hand went to my boner, as if I had no control over it. I was so hard it hurt.
He undid his tie and a few top buttons, revealing the cool dark curves of his pecs. Fantastic!
Christ! I was just dying to see what his arse was like. Sensing that I was now in control of the situation I stood up and let the gown slip off my arms. I walked across to him, my cock stuck out before me like a blind man's stick.
At first he held out his free hand to ward me off, but I just made sure it touched my cock and he dropped his hand as if scalded. I sat beside him and noticed he had started to sweat. His eyes were staring as if in a trance and I knew that the biter was now well and truly bit. The sense of power was fantastic and I knew I had to fuck him to make the victory complete. I also knew he would let me do it. And I was gagging to be inside him.
I half turned to him and looked into his dark eyes. He took his hand out of his pocket and just lay back as if lifeless, like a doll. All volition seemed to have deserted him. Here I was, just a half-grown kid, and this lovely guy was at my mercy, awaiting my move.
So I made it. I unhooked and then slowly unzipped his trousers and peeled back the two halves so that his erect cock was beautifully outlined against the silky material of his bikini. The tops of his thighs were superb. He was staring at my hand as if it were some living creature. I cupped my hand along his cock and balls and gave a couple of squeezes. He lifted his pelvis into my hand, begging for more.
I put my mouth toward his but he averted his face, determined not to be kissed. I suspected a powerful residue of machismo so I put my hand on his face and swivelled it back towards me. There was pain in his eyes, but still I knew he was mine.
"I don't kiss guys," he whispered.
"You'll kiss me though, won't you Brandon?"
He turned his face again but I turned it back.
"Won't you Brandon?"
Tough guys always enjoy it if you're tough back -- I had discovered that in the school playground.
"Is it necessary?" he said, weakening his position.
"You have a really sexy mouth and I gotta have some of it."
Then he started staring at my mouth and I slowly licked my lips. There was something like desperation in his eyes. My hand still on his throbbing cock and balls, I leant towards him. He shut his eyes. Lovely lids and long black lashes.
"Fuck off," he murmured but before he had finished the final syllable my mouth was against his, engulfed in the shape of his `off', sucked down against his lips and teeth. His cock jerked as the kiss grew more protracted. His tongue was in my mouth and I bit down quite hard causing some pain and this caused his cock to jack again.
I thought, "Yes, man, now I am on to you. Now I begin to know the darker recesses of your dark mind. It's beautiful in there -- and dangerous."
Talking of dark, the room itself was now in deep twilight. I knew the door was unlocked, that anyone could come in at any time. But danger and risk were vital elements here. Brandon's eyes burned, lights in themselves. In the darkness his skin was panther-black, dark velvet. He was semi-undressed, just like Jules earlier. I fantasised that this was also Jules, his darker twin.
I bent down and licked his swelling genitals through the silky cloth of his sexy bikini. I used my teeth as well as my lips for his extra pleasure. Then I pulled off the bikini and tossed it over my shoulder. Now I was hungering on his naked cock. His hands reached down to push me off but I angrily slapped them and he again gave way to my desires. He was mumbling to himself as if praying to his ju ju gods, gods themselves as dark as he.
I pushed his legs in the air while I crouched before the sofa on the carpet on my knees. I held his legs open and licked and nuzzled. The smell was wonderful, unlike any other man smell before, frankincense and myhrr, nasal opium. I licked and sucked and probed. My tongue was in his arse. Again he tried to push me off and this time I slapped his naked arse as hard as I could, the slaps echoing around the room.
Then in the silence more moaning and ju ju invocations, hurried, in a foreign tongue.
I pulled him towards the edge of the sofa, his legs still in the air. A voice inside me was crying "Condom! Condom!" but I wasn't listening. The ultimate risky business. Fuck all conventions and fuck all ideas of security and insurance. These were only debilitating restraints. I wanted his naked arse around my naked cock.
Legs open, he began to slip onto my erect cock. He struggled but I hurt him some more. "You is gonna be mah bitch" I said in mockery of rapster argot, my voice sounding quite strange and evil. "Ah's gwanna screw your black arse boy."
"Screw you!" he cried, starting to struggle. I squeezed his ballsac hard and he cried out again and then became more still.
I got plenty of spit on my cock and his crack. As I fingered his hole he groaned and tried to get away, but only in a half-hearted fashion. Slowly I lowered him onto my impaling prick. At the first entry a great shudder ran through him and I felt the sweat break out upon his body.
Oh what liberation, what sweet sensations as the naked arse clutched against my swollen member and slowly engulfed me, deeper and deeper into that tight damp African jungle.
His head fell forward against my own, we were forehead to forehead, his eyes blazing into mine through darkness, just the light from the big open windows. His arms were around my shoulders and after a while he began to loosen up. I was deep in that man pussy now and it was like screwing the forest of his psyche, like mind-fuck, mind-rape.
He lay his head back on the sofa seat and was wide open to me. I nipped his nips with my teeth and felt the contractions of the pain ripple through all his body like a current through water. I was jacking hard and deep into his inner sanctum, stirring the spirits in that secret place until they seemed to materialise about us, dancing and jigging around the African fire under the vast African skies with their curtains of glittering stars.
My muscles were aching now as I held him open and jacked harder and deeper but it didn't matter, my cock was dominant over the rest of my servile body.
He started to shout loud now, "Oh my God! Oh my God!" The short hairs on his muscular legs were standing on end. I squeezed his cock and it quivered with strong contractions. He was right on the edge -- and so was I.
I pushed him right down on my cock and held him there, at the same time jacking into him as hard as I could. His own cock was quivering like a frightened bird. He arched his back convulsively and the contractions of his arse finally did it for me and I came for -- what? -- the third time that day. My body began that automatic jacking that is the sign of a great cum.
Brandon sat up on my thighs and stared into my eyes. He looked drugged.
"Fuck you!" was the only romantic phrase that occurred to him. He smiled a particularly evil smile but I ended that by another deep kiss.
I was still inside him and still hard and he lent back again arching his sinewy back. My hands held him by the narrow waist and the main stomach muscle made a lovely bulge. He was as pliable as a beautiful black painted bow. Slowly he began to wank his hard pecker and while doing that he hunkered down on my tool. I encouraged him by as much heavy jerking against his sweet muscled arse as I could summon up after my exhausting gymnastics. The sweat was gathered in the small of my back. Everything was damp and warm and sticky.
He was jerking harder now and again muttering in his native tongue very fast. He was so bent back he seemed liable to break but he was infinitely pliable and strong. The vibrations of his jacking and his arse squeezing kept me fully erect for the next few minutes.
As he got nearer to his climax he began to babble. Then everything stopped. He was perfectly still. Then his hand made a few brief signals on his cock and he began to cum, slowly at first and then like a gathering storm, screaming like a banshee. Now his hand was a white blur as he shot his cum in all directions. Some of it flew up into my face, some on the floor and sofa.
When he had exhausted his full load of cum he first rested and then sat up again on my thighs and stared in my eyes once more. Our eyes had grown accustomed to the sexy darkness that had gathered during our coitus. His arms were on my shoulders and he breathed into my face and I imagined the dark night smells of the long African river bank and the cries of scurrying creatures and the rising of the great fish.
"Fuck you whitey!" he whispered maliciously, squirming on my now deflating cock. "And fuck your Uncle Jules!"
I had my hand behind his bald head, holding him like a child. I pulled his mouth to mine and bit on his thick lips. He sighed with contentment.
We uncoupled and switched the lights on. We went to the bathroom together and began to clean ourselves up. I said to Brandon, "So are we pals now? After all, we just did something special."
He shook my proferred hand and seemed pleased.
"I'm confused," he said as he brushed his hair before the big mirror.
I stood behind him and put my arms around him. I could feel him melting. I kissed his neck.
"So what about Jules?" he asked, staring at my reflection in the mirror. "Was this a setup or what?"
My cock was squeezed between his crack. Already it felt good again. Just semi-hard, nothing too rampant.
"Not that I know," I said. "I can't think old Jules would have used me like that. He is my uncle, after all."
Brandon smirked at me, his lip forming a delicious satiric curve. "Uncle -- and lover, white boy."
I slapped his arse hard, and he winced. I slapped it again and he smiled. His buns were flushed with a slight tinge of red which looked so good against his black skin. It amazed me that our attitude toward each other had changed so completely in the last hour.
But there was something I had to ask him, something delicate. I put my hands on his pecs and softly tweaked his tits. He let his arms fall to his sides and his head went back a little and my mouth was full of his hair.
I kissed his ear. "Brandon, we did something pretty stupid back there. We took some risks with each other. I honestly always use condoms. I never have unsafe sex. But what we did -- it was great and sexy, it was beautiful -- but..."
"Yeah," he said. "It was great wasn't it. But you're OK, I never have unprotected sex. And I'm glad to hear the same applies to you. Thanks."
So now I knew it was all right I sank to my knees in front of him. His uncut cock was just semi-hard, the sheath drawn over its head like a mysterious veil. As he leaned back against the wash-stand, his cock and balls formed a lovely picture, the balls hanging loose in the relaxed blue-black sac, his big dick forming a delicate curve slightly to one side of centre, the big vein clearly defined. I pressed my lips against the wonderful ensemble, kissing not sucking. His hands were on my face. As I kneeled there, it was as if he had given me his blessing.
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