All events in this story are true. Names have been changed, and some locations and times have been altered to maintain the privacy.

If you are under the age of 18 or not interested in gay erotica, then read no further.

I would be interested in reader feedback. Write: peteffoxx@yahoo.com


It was in the summer of 1975 when I first became intimate with a man’s body, and everything changed for me. I was a fairly typical, skinny, gap-toothed, ten year-old boy with straight dirty blonde hair hanging in my big brown eyes.

Every summer my father would hitch the pop-up trailer to the Galaxy 500, and drive us from Buffalo to a camp ground by a lake in the vicinity of Allegany State Park. My father was not much of an outdoors man. He thought it was good for the family to spend some time away from the city, and for him the pop-up was a steel mill worker’s country cottage. I had used to look forward to these camping trips, but now I was getting to an age where I just wanted to stay in the neighborhood and hang out with my friends. It’s just that there wasn’t many other kids at the lake for me to play with. It was just my mom, dad, and a sister who was 4 years older than me, and she wanted to spend as little time as possible with her bratty brother.

At first I killed time by wandering around the woods and the lake by myself. My dad was constantly working on the trailer; always finding something wrong that needed to be fixed. My mother busied herself doing a lot of the same kind of house work she did at home, only now with different scenery. My sister seemed to be reading all of the time, either teen girl novels or “Tiger-Beat Magazines”. Around dinner time though, things really picked up when my father’s friend Bud and his wife Phyllis arrived. They lived in a near by town, and every year they would drive out with their tent to spend a day or two with my parents. They would grill food and drink beer around the camp fire; set up a card table and play euchre and pinochle. As the night wore on and the empties piled up; the adults got happier and louder.

Phyllis was nice enough, but I took a real liking to Bud. He always called me “Sport”; a nickname I would’ve hated coming from anyone else. Bud was a natural storyteller and commanded everyone’s attention. Even at my tender young age, I was enrapt in his stories although I didn’t fully understand them. Bud was a man’s man, with charm and charisma. He was probably in his late 40’s or early 50’s at that time. He was a couple of inches shorter than my dad’s 6’2” , but unlike my lanky father, Bud had a big frame, with a large hairy chest and wide shoulders, and the biggest, hairiest arms I’ve ever seen. He had a big belly, but I wouldn’t call him fat as it fit the rest of his body. He had iron gray hair which he kept in a buzz cut, and every time I ever saw him he seemed to have a few days stubble on his face. I would take turns sitting someone’s lap, helping them play cards, and taking sips of their beers. After sometime, I stayed exclusively in “Uncle” Bud’s lap.

The next morning, Bud, my dad and I did some fishing in the lake, but nobody caught anything. Bud said that tomorrow he would be going to another lake some miles away to do some serious fishing for a couple of days. Bud was the outdoors man that my father wasn’t, and it was important to my father that I learn some of that. I wasn’t a sissy, but neither was I the alpha male my father wanted me to be. He would get me into team sports, and I would do all right, but he could tell my heart wasn’t in it. I was never competitive; I was more the class clown type. My dad talked to him for a little bit, and then he asked me if I wanted to go fishing with Bud. I gave him an enthusiastic “YEAH!” the kind that only a ten year-old can deliver. That night passed much like the previous one, but for me there was the added excitement of spending time alone with Bud the next day.

When I woke the next morning I was in a panic because the I could tell that the sun had been up for some time, and I thought we would be leaving at dawn. Because don’t fisherman start when it’s still dark out? I was afraid he had left without me, but was relieved to see him finishing his breakfast with the others. He explained to me that today we were just heading out there, and the next morning is when we be getting up at the crack of dawn. We loaded up his pick-up truck and it took it bit less than an hour to get to his fishing spot. The ride there was uneventful. He told me about his two teenage daughters, and how they didn’t like to be too far away from the telephone, so he didn’t get to share his love of the outdoors with them. He had a son too, but he was an adult and living in Arizona. I felt like I his son too. I didn’t realize it at the time, but I think I fell in love with him at that point. As we unloaded the truck and walked I would find myself holding his thick hairy wrist in my hand. Sometimes I would be embarrassed to catch myself brushing the hair on his forearm with my finger, or brushing my cheek against it. I loved it when he would tousle my hair with one of his big hands.

We fished by the lake, and he kept telling my his stories, or “bullshitting” as he referred to it. I felt like a grown-up with him. He let me drink a little beer, and even showed me how to smoke a cigar. We would swear, burp and fart without embarrassment. After a couple of beers he would whip his cock out of his shorts and let his piss fly without even turning away from me. I tried not to stare, but was stealing glances at him. I used to be pee shy, but I was so relaxed with him (the beer probably helped too)that soon I was peeing right next to him. We had a pissing contest and he showed me how to hold my little pecker to get maximum arc on my stream. I even got the nerve to ask why his cock looked different than mine. He told me that most boys now are circumcised; that the penis has a skin that covers it, and if you have one you must take extra care to keep it clean. He pulled the hood back revealing the large, carmel colored, mushroom shaped head. He then scooped up some lake water in his hand and cleaned it. I was suddenly conscious of my own little prepubescent hairless dick being hard, and covered myself up.

Around lunch time a friend of his named Mack stopped by for a while. He was a tall, thin, elderly looking guy. He seemed nice enough, but I resented the intrusion. They talked fishing and bullshitted for a while, and had a couple of beers. He left after lunch, and we resumed our activities.

Around dinner time he showed me how to clean and filet our catch- a couple of unimpressive sized lake trout. He fried them up with some potatoes, and it was delicious. After dinner we played cards and drank; he drank beer and I drank mostly soda.

It was July and hot, and the moon was full and bright when we peed out the camp fire and stripped to our underwear to go to bed. We left the tent flaps open to allow the breeze to come in, and we slept on the tops of our sleeping bags. Sometime during the night I became aware that Bud had his hands under my arms and was shifting me over to the right. It turns out that I was sleeping with my head resting on his chest and my right arm across his belly. I awoke startled, thinking it was time for us to get up and fish.

He said to me: “It’s okay. It’s not time to get up yet, but you have to move sweetheart. I gotta piss like a race horse.”

He left the tent and walked out of sight, to the side. It seemed to take him a long time to get started, but eventually I heard his heavy stream hitting the dirt with force. Once he stopped peeing, he didn’t return to the tent right away. I wondered what was taking him, but just when I was starting to get a little nervous, he crawled back into the tent, and flopped onto his back on his sleeping bag. The full moon was still up and providing lots of light. I was shocked to see that he was holding his boxers in his hand. He was naked! And his cock was hard!

“You still awake Sport?” He asked.

“Uh huh.” I responded.

“You’re a little young to understand this , but your uncle is horny and has to do this, or he won’t get any sleep tonight. Do you know what horny means?”

I had heard the word before and had a vague sense of its meaning, but I shook my head “no”. I couldn’t stop staring at the fleshy club he was holding up at the base, nested in a bush of hair.

“You know about fucking and how babies are made, right?

“Uh huh.”

“Well every now and then a man gets a powerful urge to fuck, but there aren’t any girls around, so he has to empty his balls himself, or it’ll drive him crazy. You’ll understand this in a year or two when your balls drop, and you get some hair around your dink. Now a man does this by pulling on his prick. They call it jerking off.” And with that, his hand began to travel slowly up and down his cock. On the up stroke, his foreskin would cover his head, and the down stroke would completely unhood it, exposing the big mushroom.

“You want to try it?” He asked.

Breathless with excitement, I reached for his cock. The shaft was thicker than my wrist, and I could not get fingers all the way around it. I was fascinated as to how something so hard could also feel so silky and smooth.

Bud chuckled and said: “No. I meant do you want to try it yourself.”

Overcome with embarrassment I abruptly pulled away. I thought I might start crying. He chuckled again, wrapped his arm around me and pulled me into his wide and hairy chest. He took my hand in his, and placed it back on his cock.

“That’s okay. Don’t be embarrassed.” He said. “You can help your uncle out. It’s okay for boys to help each other out when there are no girls around.”

I laid half on top of him. My head rested in the dense hair of his chest, and I listened to his heart beat. It was loud and strong. Now that I had his encouragement, I began to explore his body. My right hand played with the skin on his cock, moving it up and down and side to side. It was so mobile! My left hand was swimming in the thick hair of his belly and groin, my fingers slowly and gently combing through.

Bud sighed with pleasure. He leaned back on his pillow with his left hand behind his head. His right arm was wrapped around me, and his hand was gently rubbing my tummy.

Less tentative about touching him now, I increased my grip and speed on his cock. He responded by sighing and shifting his hips forward. Emboldened even more, I leaned in close to his cock to explore it more. I weighed his big balls in my hand and rolled the skin of the sack around. I put my face up to his cock and brushed my cheek across the head, just as I had done with his fore arm earlier that day.

“Only use your hands Sport.” Bud told me: “In a couple of years you’ll play with your friends like this all the time because the girls won’t let you fuck them yet, but only use your hands. Some boys will want you to put their cock in your mouth, but don’t do that. You don’t want to be a faggot.”

That shook me out of my reverie, and the feelings of shame returned. Not because I wanted to put it in my mouth; it hadn’t even occurred to me to try. I couldn’t conceive of fitting that big mushroom head in my mouth, but also he really stank down there. That wasn’t unexpected. I’m sure that I was rank too. The days were hot, and it had been at least over a day since either one of us had bathed, and that afternoon we both had to shit in the tall grass without the benefit of toilet paper. No, it was his remark about not wanting to be a faggot that bothered me, because I was all ready pretty sure that I was one.

Lost in thought, I stopped what I was doing. Bud sensed that I was having a problem and moved his hand down from my tummy and found my stiff little pecker in my white jockey underwear. Through the fabric he rolled the head of my dink between his thumb and index finger, while his other fingers rubbed my little balls. I moaned and melted into his arms.

“Yeah, that feels good doesn’t it Sport? That’s what it feels like for me too.”

“Here.” he said, as he laid me down on the sleeping bag. With one hand he took me by the ankles and lifted both of my legs into the air. With the other hand he removed my underwear. Then he held me, and rolled onto his back on his sleeping bag, pulling me on top of him. I slid down his belly until I was astride his groin; his hard cock nestled in my bum crack. It felt so natural there, like it belonged there. He resumed playing with my dink, and I reached back with right hand to rub his cock . I felt so weak that I needed to plant my left hand on his belly to hold myself up. Waves of pleasure ran through me as he handled me. Soon I was rocking back and forth on him, and then I let go of his cock and put both my hands on his chest to support myself. I went from rocking to pressing my crotch into his body and sliding my pecker and balls through the hairy expanse of his belly back and forth, back and forth.

I felt Bud’s hands run gently over my chest and shoulders, down my back where he would give the cheeks of my bum a hard squeeze and then run his hands back the way they came. When they arrived back at my chest he gave my nipples a gentle tweak. It was then that I realized that Bud was no longer playing with my dink, and that it was my thrusts that were making me feel so good. I picked up my pace, and planted my face into his chest. Rubbing my face from side to side in his chest hair I would suck at his nipples when I found them. By this point my thrusts had turned to wild bucking, and I whimpered with each push forward. The pleasure had completely taken over. I could no longer control my actions, and this really frightened me, but I was powerless to stop.

As my head was on his chest, Bud tousled my hair and said: “Well look at you go. I can tell already you’re going to be a real tiger with the ladies, just like your old man and your Uncle Bud.” With that he placed both of his hands on my rapidly bouncing bum and assisted my thrusts by pushing down in time with my thrusts.

My whimpers turned into an embarrassing squeak, as I trembled and climaxed. I had never felt such pleasure, and worried that I might actually die. It felt as though my pecker expanded twice its size, and I was certain I had split it open, but I didn’t care. I could feel a drop of wetness at the head, but assumed that I had peed a little. I thought the feeling would never end, but of course it did, and when it did it was thought the bottom had dropped out of me and I crumpled onto my Uncles warm inviting body. I didn’t get to rest long though.

Bud touseled my hair again, and whispered: “You did good Sport. Now it’s my turn.”

I was almost unconscious at this point. He laid me on my back with my head towards the tent opening. He spread my legs and knelt between them. Then he lifted my legs up, and stuck his cock between my thighs, just over my little balls and exhausted pecker. He then crossed his arms over my legs and held them together. Bud began to thrust his cock between my thighs.

“Make a pussy for me Sport.”

The moonlight coming through the tent flap enabled me to see the head of his cock emerge between my thighs when he pushed forward, and then be swallowed up by my legs and its foreskin when he pulled back. Tickling my thighs and balls with each thrust. I really wanted to see his face though, but it was out of the light and obscured by my legs and feet. Occasionally I would feel his stubbly beard against my feet and some times his lips pressing on my skin. With each thrust he gave a manly guttural grunt, unlike my childish whimpering. Unable to see his face, I concentrated on watching his cock play its game of peek-a-boo with me. Soon it started to look wet, and I could feel it getting slick between my thighs. I knew it wasn’t pee, or sweat, but wasn’t sure what it was. Bud picked up his pace for a bit, but then decided to change positions. He pulled out from between my thighs, and set my legs down. Resting his weight on his elbows he laid across the top of me, and again thrust his cock between my thighs. He was humping me steady and strong. The tickling in my balls and thighs became an intense warm and pleasurable feeling.

He moaned: “Yeah, that’s a smooth, tight pussy.”

Now I was able to look at his face, and I almost wished I hadn’t. He was looking at me so intensely it was frightening. I almost didn’t recognized him, and I was sure he wasn’t seeing me. I understood that he was now at the same point of no return that I had felt earlier. Then he dove for my face and thrust his tongue into my mouth. I was so shocked I gasped! His mouth tasted of stale beer as his tongue danced in my mouth. He withdrew from my mouth and started attacking my neck and ears with his kisses. His beard tickled me, and made me giggle and squirm.

His hips started to go wild now, and he grunted in my ear: “Shit! I’m gonna shoot!”

He stabbed his cock forward one more time, and held it there. I felt a flood of hot slick liquid between my thighs. He drew his hips up, and I felt warm splashes on legs, groin and belly. I know that when you’re a kid everything seems larger, but even now I think it was an impressively big load. I felt literally soaked, with sweat and come.

He let out a long, low moan and what sounded like the name “Beth” as he came. He collected his breath for a moment and then rolled off of me.

“That was nice.” He said. “We’ll both sleep well now.”

He handed me his boxer shorts.

“You can clean up the jism with these. It gets sticky if you don’t. When you fuck girls be sure to wear a rubber. You don’t want to get one pregnant then have to get married. You want to put that off as long as possible, believe you me.”

With that, he gave me a little kiss on the forehead, rolled on his side away from me, and it wasn’t long before he was snoring.

I scooped up some of his jism with my finger and held it under my nose. It smelled a little like bleach. I put it to my tongue, and it tasted bitter but not terrible. I was sleepy and confused by everything that had happened. And who was Beth? It wasn’t his wife’s name, and I was relieved that it wasn’t any of his daughters’ names.

“Maybe I’ll ask him in the morning.” I thought as I drifted off to sleep.

He was fully dressed when he woke me up at dawn. The day went by much as the previous day had, only we caught more fish this time. Nothing was said of what we did that night, yet he never indicated to me that it was a forbidden subject, or a terrible secret. I think that for him nothing more needed to be said about it. I don’t think he was a pedophile, or even that he was bisexual. I think that for him there was nothing unnatural with two guys helping each other get relief.

That was the last summer my family made that trip. My sister had refused to go the next summer, and my parents didn’t think it was worth the trouble anymore. They sold the pop-up trailer. I did see Bud at a few family occasions over the years, but nothing more ever happened between us. We did talk about him taking me hunting, but nothing ever came of it. Eight years later he died of a heart attack. I never did ask him who Beth was, and I still don’t know. None of his predictions for me came true. Though I had a few girlfriends, I was never “a tiger with the ladies”, nor did I jerk off with other boys after I hit puberty. It would be many years before I touched a man sexually again. Still, I really value the education that Bud gave me.