“Hey, bud, lose your PJ's?”

He kind of froze and looked up at me. His voice trembled as he spoke softly. “I wasn't gonna wear any.”

“You sure that's a good idea?”

“Well, you...” He stopped as if he'd been shot. '...don't wear any,' he was going to say; I was sure of it. But again, he'd just managed to catch himself. “...um...you don't have any either.”

I pulled a face and shrugged. “Whatever floats your boat.”

He instantly seemed to relax some, and grinned. I reached down, lowered my trousers, and kicked them off. Chase lowered his shorts, and kicked them into a chair. He grinned. His brightly colored “Incredibles” briefs were in sharp contrast to my white, form-fitting trunks. I glanced over at him. Also in contrast: his little package, nicely framed by his tight briefs and my hefty bulge. He seemed barely able to contain his excitement, no doubt with a little fear of the unknown mixed in. It seemed as if I could actually see his heart pounding beneath his ribs. In addition, could it be that I detected a slight tenting of his underpants?

I reached to my trunks, and slipped them down to my feet. He did exactly the same. It was as if we were playing, 'you show me yours, I'll show you mine' though I believe he was making up the rules on the fly! Now we were both naked. For such a little boy, he was wonderfully developed: not too chunky, not too slim. Mmmmmm. I slipped under the covers, and the next thing I knew, he was sliding in on his side of the bed. But it was a big bed, and he could have been sleeping in the room next door, for all I knew (well, that wasn't quite true, I guess.) I reached out and shut off the light. It was pitch black all of a sudden.

I heard Chase offer a soft “ohhh”, and almost immediately, I heard a soft scrambling and felt a soft, small hand clamp onto my arm.

“You okay, Chase?”

Silence. Then...a shakey whisper: “it's dark.” In a flash, I realized he'd had a nightlight on in his room.

“Yeah,” I said. “Hold on a sec.” I got up and turned the light on in the bathroom and pulled the door closed until just a small slit offered a hint of illumination. I felt the little guy's eyes locked on to me like a targeting laser, and when I climbed back into bed, I asked, “Better?”

“Yeah,” he said, but he made no effort to move back to his side of the bed. I looked over at him, and the little bit of light in the room sparkled on his eyes. We lay there in silence, each trying to guess the other's thoughts.

“It's been kind of a long day, huh?” I said finally.

“Yeah,” Chase answered.

Another moment passed.

“Uncle Gil?” I rolled onto my side to face him.

“Yes, Chase?”

“Um...I'm kind'a cold...or sumpthin'.”

“You are?” I'm sure that wasn't the answer he was hoping for.

“Yeah,” he said softly.

“Well...maybe I could get another blanket.” The truth was, I don't think either of us was cold.

“Um...Mom sometimes rubs my back if I get cold.”

“Oh,” I said. “Well...I suppose I could...” He instantly pressed himself closer, practically burrowing into my side. And for the record, there was no way he was cold. I could feel his soft little boy tool mashed into my hip, and it definitely wasn't cold.

I turned into him a bit, reached over to him and slowly began to stroke his exquisitely soft back. My fingers danced over every nub of his spine. “Is this how she does it, sweetie?” I asked.

He sighed. “Mmmmm,” he breathed. “You do it nicer, Uncle Gil.”

I wasn't exactly prepared for the incredible velvety smoothness of his skin—warm, soft! (Cold? Right, of course he was!) Beneath my fingers his muscled back dipped slightly inward at the center and then upward as the easy bumps of his spine formed a trail from his neck straight down to the small of his back. My fingers caressed his small neck—it seemed as if with one hand my fingers could practically reach all the way around that long, glorious, proud neck, filled with muscle. Then, after savoring that place for a moment, my hand would wash gently over him, drifting downward, and he'd sigh. He breathing grew shallow and light. He was totally relaxed. It was nice. Indeed, the perfect word: nice. Just that. Nothing sexual, nothing “untoward”. Nice. Perhaps sensual, but I suspect it was nothing he hadn't sensed from his mother's ministrations on his body.

Then, in one short sentence, it all changed. “Uncle Gil?” he asked dreamily.

“Yes,” I purred.

“You can go lower if you want.”

I wasn't ready for that—not one little bit. I didn't know what to say.

“Uncle Gil...please.”

“Okay,” I said. On my next pass, my fingers danced over the small flat plain just above his bottom, and then I kept moving downward over his small, pert butt.

I felt him stiffen when my fingers touched that part of him. It was as if he'd been waiting for me to do that. He sucked in a breath and uttered a soft, “oooohhh.”

Never had I felt such exquisite, warm softness. Now I sucked in a breath. My fingers lingered there, hovering over those two tight, firm, round globes.

“Ahhhh....” he sighed and wriggled against my belly. “That's...awesome, Uncle Gil.”

“I know,” I answered. My thumb traced over the gentle curve of his ass. I was in heaven, and judging from his sighs, so was he. He adjusted himself, seeming to move my hand lower and I obliged. He was so warm there. My hands bridged the pinched crevasse, and my finger, as if with a mind of its own, drifted boldly down his furrow. He stiffened again. I didn't try to go any deeper; rather, I simply moved my hand over and down those sweet jutting mounds of boy flesh. And as I repeated this gentlest of actions, I felt something change. His tiny cocklet began to grow and press into my flesh. Again, he lifted slightly, to give his penis a chance to reposition itself. Now when he breathed in, there was the slightest tremble to his movement.

Within seconds, it seemed, his little two-inch cock was as stiff and straight as a ramrod—and poking into my belly.

He giggled softly, apparently pleased with the effects of my stroking his butt.

Now he reached down and I felt his hand on my penis. To tell you the truth, I was unprepared for that, but then I'd been unprepared for everything that boy was doing that night. I jumped a bit. “Whoa...” I breathed, and I felt Chase almost flinch.

“I'm sorry,” the boy mumbled, pulling his hand away.

“It's okay, Chase, really...Just took me a little by surprise.”

“Can I touch it, Uncle Gil?”

“If you want to, but you have to answer a few questions, first. Okay?”

“Okay,” he said, twisting up to look into my eyes.

“First, how come you want to do this?”

He shrugged. “Don't know. Just do, is all.”

I stroked his bottom again. “I think you're going to have to do better than that, Chase.”

He was silent for a moment. “I want to feel it get big.”

“How do you even know about that?”

Again, he was quiet for a moment. “Because. I just do.”

“Chaaase...” I said, in a tone that said I was waiting for him to say more.

“I saw...um...some pictures of men...you know...like that.”

“Where?” I think I was close to being shocked. This little boy was full of surprises.

“Mitchell's brother showed 'em to us...on his computer. It was fun. An...”

“And what, Chase?”

“And...well...he made us show him our cocks. An' he touched mine, and it got all hard like it is now.”

I was dumbfounded. I think I was actually speechless.

“Was that really bad, Uncle Gil? Is it bad for me to want to touch you and see you come?”

“What?” I gasped.

“You know...like shoot that stuff.”

“My God, Chase, how do you know about that?”

“From Mitchell's brother. He can do it.” Chase was silent for a moment, but perhaps realized I needed more information. “But he only showed us once. Can you do it, Uncle Gil?”

“Of course, Chase. All men can c—” I stopped. Despite Chase's apparent comfort with it, somehow I couldn't bring myself to use that word with my nephew. “...can ejaculate—that's the proper word for it—and boys, too, once they've gotten big enough.”

“Like Mitchell's brother.”

“Yeah,” I said, thinking I'd strangle Mitchell's brother if I ever had the pleasure of meeting him. “Chase, you know about stuff that most kids don't know about for a few more years—at least.”

“Am I bad, Uncle Gil?”

I patted him on the butt, and then hugged him to me. “No, honey, of course you're not bad. It's just that it seems like you're rushing into things a little bit fast.”

“I...I'm sorry.”

“Oh, Chase, it's not your fault. Hell, I guess it's nobody's fault. And no, Chase, you're not bad. You're a good boy. You're a very good boy.”

I felt his hand come to mine, and then deliberately, holding me in his gaze, he lifted away from me and moved my hand to his rigid, little tool. “Uncle Gil,” he whispered with trembling voice, “I never could get the feeling by myself. Will you help me to get the feeling...please.”

“Chase,” I began.

“Pleeaaassse,” he implored.

“It's not that I think you did anything bad." Hmmm. I had to think this through, because part of me did think it was bad, but if he knew I felt that way, he'd be devastated. "Chase, I just think it's better to wait awhile. Maybe in four or five years. Then you'll be more—ready...to explore that 'feeling'.”

The poor little boy looked devastated. “Five years!” he mumbled, more to himself than to me. “Uncle Gil...what am I going to do?”

“What do you mean, Chase?”

“I have to get that feeling again.”

“Again? I thought you said you couldn't do it.”

“Mitchell's brother...helped me once, but he's working at a camp for the summer. He's far away. Now there's no one to help me. But it was awesome—when he did it to me. I think about it all the time."

Suddenly I felt so sorry for the little tyke. I remembered back to when I was introduced to those forbidden pleasures, and though I was four years older than Chase, it had suddenly dominated my life as well—as it sounded like it was dominating his. I bet I jacked off twenty times a day! (Well...maybe not twenty...but it consumed me: when I went to bed, when I woke up, in the shower, in the boy's room at school, playing out in the woods after school, doing homework, after supper; hell, I'd even have done it on the bus, if I could have figured a way to keep anyone from noticing! Once my buddy, Jesse Foster had his backpack on his lap on the bus, and some older kids walked past him. “Hey” one of them said in a loud voice, “Check it out: Foster's got something to hide!” “Yeah,” said another, “must have a boner!” Everyone laughed, even the girls. And another boy picked right up with, “Or he's wackin' off! Yeah! You close, Foster?" Then another: "Guys, I bet he can't even cum, yet.  Bet'cha can't, can ya'!” It was merciless—and not true—but my friend was mortified. So the bus was one place I was never going to try anything.) Now I was hearing the same desperate hunger in my nephew. But, my brain screamed, he's only eight! Still, I knew the truth: every child has the capability of sexual response. Certainly Chase had discovered that. (Though admittedly with a little help.) I was in a bind: I knew he was too young, but his body was telling him to get relief now, and he was turning to me for “help”.

“When Mommy told me you were coming, I decided I'd wait for you...instead.”

I nodded, suddenly understanding a lot about what I had heard that morning, but then his words registered. Did I just miss something? “Instead? Chase...instead of what, sweetie?”

There was a silence as he seemed to think about what he was going to say, then: “You know the park at home?”

I nodded.

“There's restrooms there. I heard some kids say that a guy who works there always comes in to the bathroom when a boy goes in. They said he tries to see them, you know, when they're peeing. I was gonna' see if...”

“Chase.”

“I know...but there's nobody else. And it's gonna make me crazy if I can't get that feeling again.” Now I felt his little hand back on my cock. This time, I didn't flinch. He left it there, just resting lightly, as if he thought if he didn't move, I might not notice. I struggled with my feelings. He was too young. No question...except he—by his own words—needed it—again no question about that. The thoughts of him seeking out some adult in a park restroom...oh God, Chase. A shiver ran down my back. Now the little boy squeezed my penis gently, at first, barely kneading it.

I lay there dumbly, as if my limbs had been anchored to the bed, letting him squeeze me. Then he moved his hand down and massaged my balls. It seemed as if his small hand could barely hold one. “They're so big, Uncle Gil,” he whispered. “Mine are really little.”

“That's because you're eight years old. Give 'em time, Chase. When the time comes, you'll start to grow, and they'll start to get bigger, and your penis will, too.”

“When,” he asked, still stroking my pendulous testicles.

“When nature's ready. It's different with every boy. It didn't happen to me until I was thirteen.”

“Did you come then?”

“No, not then, not right away.” I blushed—not him, me, even if it should have been the other way around, but he seemed so hungry for knowledge that all boundaries had dissolved. Nothing was going to make him blush. Now his fingers crawled back onto my tool, and again he began his halting massage. And slowly, my cock began to thicken, and stretch, and lengthen, and after a minute of feeling his fingers kneading my “loaf”, it began to rise.

“Yes,” he breathed, mostly—I think—to himself.

In the dim light I could see his eyes riveted to my manhood. I could see the hunger there. It was as if he were possessed. It wouldn't have surprised me if he'd leaned in and started sucking me, right then and there! “It's huge, Uncle Gil!”

“Just average for a man, I'd say.”

“How big is it?”

Just a little under seven inches,” I answered right away and then blushed like a little kid at the tacit admission that I'd measured my tool.

“It's so cool,” he said, grinning at the response he'd caused in his uncle's body.

All this time, I'd been holding onto his little cocklet. Now I squeezed it gently. He sucked in a breath. “Well, so is this,” I said simply.

“Yeah, well mine's only two and a little bit,” he added wistfully.

I moved my finger and thumb lightly up and down his shaft.

“Are you gonna do it, Uncle Gil...Please!” Now he actually mimicked my action, stroking my cock once, sending a massive shiver through my whole body.

“Are you sure, Chase?”

“Yes!” he said without hesitation. “You have to! Pleeeaasssse”

“Okay, Chase. But on one condition. You have to promise me something.”

“I promise!” he said, thinking he knew the answer before I even asked the question. “I'll never tell anybody!”

I smiled. Smart boy. “Chase,” I said, “You're right about that, but that's not what I want you to promise.”

“What then?”

“If I do this, you have to promise me you will never, ever go to that man at the park. Never. Understand?”

He nodded.

“Promise me, Chase.”

He was silent, and I could sense reluctance. “Why would it be so bad?”

“Chase, honey. There are a lot of people in the world who do bad things—some even do bad things to little boys. And the problem is, even grownups can't always tell who they are. That man might hurt you. If you went with that man, well, Mommy would be very, very worried and upset, and so would I.”

Believe me, I did not fail to see the irony of what I was saying.  Indeed, some would say I was that man though I could never hurt a boy—and I didn't frequent park bathrooms. There was another difference, too: The boys whom I found interesting were older, more able to stand on their own, more able to say 'no' as well as say 'yes.'  I liked them to be full participants, and I like to think they were. Indeed, they sought my attentions as much as I sought theirs. 

“If I promise, you'll do it?”

My nephew was worrying me. He was a bright boy, and obviously, he was weighing his options. I'd hoped he wouldn't even consider the park guy an option, but clearly, he was. I felt defeated. “Yes,” I breathed. “If you promise.”

“Then I promise, Uncle Gil. I promise I'll never do anything with that man.”

My vision blurred, and I blinked hard to clear the dampness from my eyes. I leaned down and kissed Chase on the head, burrowing my lips into his soft, straight hair. “Thank you, Chase. That makes me very happy.”

“You're welcome, Uncle Gil.” Suddenly the conversation had become very formal. I kissed him again.

It took Chase's need to break the mood: “Are you going to do it now?”

“Come on,” I chuckled. “Climb on up. Belly up.” I patted my stomach, and he quickly got up on me and lay down. His head was nestled just to the side of my neck. His little bottom was nestled on my belly. His legs flowed down over my hips and he propped his feet down on either side of my thighs.

Still holding his little shaft between a finger and thumb, I explored his tight, firm little boy body with the other hand, caressing his cheek, his neck, his tiny nipples, his broad flat tummy, his delicious thighs, thin, but perfectly proportioned for a child his age. His little tool wasn't much thicker than a pencil—well, maybe a fat pencil, but clearly, he was small. Waves of energy flooded over him as my touches sparked him to attention. Soft little “oo's” and “aahh's” escaped from his mouth as he awakened to my touches. Now with one hand, I jerked his little tool. The other hand I moved down and slipped it under his pert little butt. Oh, heavenly sensation! For me and for him, judging from the wriggling he was doing.

I worked him carefully, being sure to retract his little foreskin only as far as it would comfortably go. I could see (and feel) that it was tight, though I'm not sure there were adhesions. Still, he and I would have to have a little conversation about proper care of penises and foreskins. I suspected his mother wouldn't have broached the subject with him, and he never saw his deadbeat father (which was probably a good thing, judging from my recollection of the cad).

At any rate, I slowly increased my action, causing waves of stiffening to spread across his body, and his breathing grew shallower and more rapid. It made me smile, and frankly, it was amazing to see the familiar responses to stimulation in one so young. On my other hand, I curled my middle finger, bringing it in contact with his delicious crack. I played along the furrow, dipping my finger a bit deeper each time.

It was so smooth and warm, and firm, for with each little movement of my finger, he'd squeeze his cheeks together, as if aware that the gentle insinuation of my finger might lead to something more substantial.

When finally, almost accidentally, I touched down on his tight little bud, he drew in a sharp breath, and uttered a loud, “Ohhh!” At the same time I felt his little cocklet flex hard once, and then again, and I wondered how close he was to that “feeling” he so desperately needed. Between the action on his penis and on his bud, he was practically squirming constantly. His wriggles mashed his bottom into my hand, and in turn, pressed my hand into my belly. He was, I was certain, getting close. I again found myself mesmerized by this little boy and his responses which were virtually identical to any male who was about to experience an orgasm. He was gulping in air now, and shockwaves rippled out from his genitals. “Ohh...ohh...ohh!” he moaned, and then I felt his little penis stiffen even more, and then one, two, three little spasms, as he seemed to go rigid all over, and I knew he'd fulfilled his dream: he'd gotten the “feeling”. I kept jacking him, but more gently, I suppose; finally the stimulation became greater than he could bear, and he put his hand on mine and stopped my motion. Then Chase drew in a long, slow breath. He seemed to deflate, like a balloon with a slow leak; he came off his high, and began to relax.

After a great sigh for such a little boy, he said dreamily, “Why am I so tired, Uncle Gil?"

“Because your body just worked sooo hard to give you that feeling, Chase. It's okay, sweetie, just rest, now.” I felt his body sort of melt onto mine. My finger was still buried deep between his cheeks, but I made no attempt to move past his defenses. I'd done my nephew a favor. That was all. There'd come a time, I was certain, when I'd want to explore new things with him, but for now, I'd simply given him what he'd pleaded to have. I felt strangely fulfilled, and I hoped he felt satisfied himself. I looked down at his sweet, wonderful body. I knew he'd been satisfied. His little penis had lost its tension and had shriveled to its normal state, not much more than a half an inch. I smiled at the boy's demand for gratification. He was a truly remarkable child.

He seemed to be in a dream-state for only a few moments before I felt his fingers crawling down my side, then he shifted his body, and I felt his small hand again on my now flaccid tool. He twisted his head up and looked into my eyes. “Now I want to make you do it,” he said with a coy smile. His eyes sparkled.

“Oh, you do, do you.”

“Yep, I do!”

“And just how're you going to do that?”

“You, know, Uncle Gil.” He squeezed my cock and then let his hand drift up and down over it, and almost immediately, it began to awaken.

“He's like a big, sleeping snake,” Chase said with a grin. It was a more appealing simile than dear Diedre's fat worm or wart: I don't know which was more distasteful.

“Well...little boy's shouldn't play with big, sleeping snakes.”

“Why,” he asked, playing along.

“Because,” I said, flexing my cock in his hand, “...maybe you'll wake it up!”

Chase giggled at that. “He is waking up!” he said. “Is he going to bite me?” He giggled some more at his joke, all the while chaffing the awakening monster, prompting it to even greater growth. He sort of aimed it at his face, so he could clearly see my head and the slit.

“No, but it might spit at you!”

Chase laughed out loud then. “You mean his white, milky stuff?”

By now I was fully erect, and Chase's little hand, while barely able to enclose my tool, was busy moving up and down its length.

I wondered then about his claim to be unable to get “the feeling” from his own hand, because in just a few strokes, he was sure giving me “the feeling”! I grinned, wondering just how manipulative my young nephew was.

He wore a look of concentration. He bit the side of his lip has if he was taking some sort of crucial test—and he had to pass. “Am I doing it right?” he breathed without ever taking his eyes from my tool.

“Oh, God, Chase, you're awesome!” I said.

“Should I squeeze harder?”

“It's perfect,” I muttered. He beamed, and kept working at a slow, steady pace.

Now he took his other hand and rubbed lightly over my glans. A massive shudder coursed through my body.

“How much longer?” he asked.

“Oooo...keep that up, sweetheart, and not long.”

A sweet, boyish giggle was his response.

“Should I do it faster?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I managed between ragged breaths.

“What's that!” he asked after another few strokes.

It was an effort to lift my head to see what he was asking about. He touched my slit and when he drew his finger closer to his face, he pulled a thin line of precum with him.

“Most guys just call it precum.”

“Wow,” he muttered, “it's slippery.”

“Yeah,” I said.

“Does that mean you're close?”

“Yes,” I said. “Is your hand getting tired?”

“No,” he answered, but the way he said it made me wonder.

He seemed to sense the changes in my body, and now he increased his hand action even more, giving it his all.

“Do it,” he muttered, and when I looked, he was speaking not to me so much as to my cock. I smiled. “Do it!” he repeated.

“Arghhh...” A cry tore from my throat. My whole body seemed to contract, and a massive bolt of cum shot from my penis. It seemed to take Chase by surprise—for just an instant, anyway—and then he seemed to sense triumph, and he resumed his masturbation with a vengeance. Again I shot, and again, and again, half a dozen times in all before my body had given all it could. As I lay there, coming off my orgasm, Chase leaned in and examined the puddles of semen in the dim light. He smelled it and finally touched it. I wondered if he'd taste it, but he didn't, at least not then.

“Weird stuff,” he muttered.

“I guess,” I managed.

“You make a lot more than Mitchell's brother,” Chase said with a hint of awe.

“Well, maybe he wasn't driven as crazy as I just was.”

The boy looked up at me and grinned almost shyly, as if uncomfortable with such praise. “I could do it again, Uncle Gil.”

“Well...I think I need a little rest...and I think you do, too...but thanks.” I pulled him to me and guided him to lie on top of me, my cum spreading out between our two chests. It was like a seal bonding us together.

“It's squishy,” he giggled.

“Yep, so you better hold on tight, champ, or maybe you'll slide off.”

He smiled up at me, then reached around me and held me tight. I bent down and kissed him on the top of his head. He held still for that, and sighed. Then he lifted away, scooted up, and looked into my eyes. By now, I knew that look; he had something on his mind. “Chaaase?” I asked. He grinned, licked his lips and closed his eyes. Then lowered those two luscious lips to mine. The kiss was light, and brief—chaste, you might say. Satisfied with that, he lifted away and scootched back down. He sighed then, and seemed to relax even more. I wrapped one arm around him and dropped the other down so my hand was resting on his sweet, pure bottom. And that was how we fell asleep, and slept, and awoke the next morning.

When we awoke, the smell of sex was strong. Twisting to see the clock, I was stunned at the time. We'd overslept, and so any “fun” Chase had in mind had to wait. We quickly showered and met his mother and sister just in time.

Epilog

I should tell you that that first night together was not our last by any means. We had to be careful about how we proceeded over the years, but we managed. When Chase turned twelve, as a special treat, his mother let him fly down all by himself to visit me. He stayed with me for a week, and what a week it was. By then, Chase's timetable had caught up to mine. He'd started shooting up, growing taller almost by the day. And speaking of shooting, it was my privilege to be with him when he ejaculated for the first time. (And by the way, by then he had the most delightful patch of soft, brown hair down there!)

Today Chase is older, but he continues to visit regularly. Now he's talking about college in a few years, and thinking about applying to the university right here in town. He loves the school, except—for some reason—he's not especially interested in living on campus. Oddly enough, he's told his mom that he'd like to live at Uncle Gil's. He could save money that way, he told her. We were again in my bed as he explained all this to me (with a twinkle in his eye).  His reasoning—and apparent thoughtfulness—made me smile. I thought back to our first encounter that night on our trip so long ago.

“Chase,” I asked him as I stroked his firm ass, “remember the first time in that motel room?” He nodded. “Where you really cold that night?”

He blushed. “Actually, I was pretty hot.”

“Yes, you were,” I interrupted, and we both chuckled at our shared—and tired—joke.

“But it was the only way I could think of to get you to touch me,” he added.

“Well,” I said, “you could have just asked.”

“Yeah, right. I'd been chasing you around all day, trying everything I could think of to try to get you `interested'.”

“Hmm, maybe I was a little slow on the uptake. A slow learner, I guess.”

“Maybe,” Chase said, “but I was pretty proud of myself. I think I did a pretty good job teaching you!” He leaned in and kissed me.

“Yes, Chase, you did,” I whispered, letting my fingers delve deeper into his cleft and wriggle past his defenses. “You certainly did!”