Date: Wed, 03 Aug 2022 05:23:26 +0000 From: SFWolf Subject: "Hunting With Uncle Mike" Chapter II Categories: Gay, Adult Youth, Camping, Incest, Rural The following story is is an original work of fiction, based on some actual events. The author is over the age of eighteen. This story depicts sexual situations between adult and minor males. If this context is illegal where you reside, or you otherwise find it offensive, please do not read. Move on to a more suitable story for you. If you are under the age of eighteen, do not read this story. This story is a slow-build that will unfold over multiple chapters. I welcome feedback, both positive responses and constructive criticism, at sfwolf@protonmail.com -Wolf Hunting With Uncle Mike CHAPTER 2 The following Saturday morning, my mom got me up at 3:00AM. "Your Uncle Mike's going to be here in half an hour. Get yourself dressed and have some breakfast. I'm going back to bed." I put on the clothes he had given me; quilted blaze orange overalls and jacket, and my pull-on western boots. The overalls and jacket were freshly washed, so they didn't have any scent from him in them. I had some cereal and waited by the front door with my backpack and sleeping bag. When I heard his truck outside I ran out to meet him, locking up behind me. He'd put the camper unit in the bed. He was about as tall as me, but with black hair cut into a High and Tight. He had beautiful dark green eyes behind black-framed Buddy Holly glasses. His job at a lumberyard kept him in great shape and with just enough muscles to stand out, but not so many as it looked like he went to a gym. "Hiya buddy! Grab yourself a doughnut and some hot chocolate from the Thermos." He was all smiles and anticipation as he described where we were going and what we were going to do. The early hour and the warm air from the heater made me drowsy and I fell back asleep until the deceleration of the truck leaving the freeway woke me up again. He looked across the cab at me and smiled as he rubbed the back of my head and then pushed my hair into my eyes. "I should get out the sheep shears and take care of that," he joked. I'd stopped cutting my hair that summer and now it was getting as long as the other guys on the soccer team. We got to the ranch and he let me write our names and the license plate number on the blackboard on the side of the main house. We drove for another half-hour until we reached our campsite. "Hurry up, buddy," he warned me, "we need to be in that blind before first light." He grabbed his rifle and I grabbed the one he brought for me and we headed to the blind. It looked like a kid's playhouse on stilts, but painted the same flat green as the truck with a series of tiny windows across the long side. We climbed up and settled ourselves inside. He pulled out a flask, took a swig, and passed it in my direction as he whispered "For the cold." I took a drink and winced as the sweet/spicy liquid burned my mouth. "Cinnamon whisky" he said as he quietly chuckled. "Have another if you want." I took another, much smaller sip. After a few hours of silently watching the sunrise, surveying the landscape with binoculars, and waiting for any deer to pass by, we started to talk. Barely above a whisper he asked how soccer season was going, and what I was doing in school. Then for the first time, he asked if I had a girlfriend. "No, not now" I said as I looked at the floor. "Have you ever? You've always been very quiet about that." "No, never. I don't know, I'm just not interested in anyone." "I didn't have girlfriends in high school either. I didn't have one until I went to college. But don't worry, you have plenty of time." "I don't know. I don't really feel anything for girls, They're nice, but I don't ever feel like I would want a girlfriend." "How about boys" he asked, surprising me with the question. "No." "There's nothing wrong with liking boys." He stopped and thought for a few moments. "I've never liked girls like that either." I was shocked. I'd never heard him talk about a dating life, and my mom didn't say anything either. When I'd asked him about it before, he'd always just made a joke by laughing and saying "No, because no woman can stand me." If my mom was around, she would always roll her eyes dramatically and say "That's an understatement" as her side of their ongoing joke. We sat in silence for a long time. It felt like an hour or maybe more. I screwed up the courage to ask him more. "So, do you have a boyfriend?" "Let's go back to the truck for lunch and we'll talk then. Besides, I need to piss." We walked back toward camp and he stopped at a nearby tree and unzipped his fly. I stood near to him, probably too close, and unzipped mine. I tried to sneak a look at his dick out of the corner of my eye to see what it looked like, and if it was big. I guess I was being obvious by turning my head too far, because he looked in my direction and smiled. Back at camp he pulled out some sandwiches and sodas and started to talk. "Yes, I've had boyfriends. I always waited to tell you and introduce you to them until I felt like it was going to last. I've just never gotten that feeling. The last one and I stopped seeing each other this summer." I took it all in, trying to remember if he'd acted differently over the last few months. "What do you do? WIth other guys? Like, how do you have sex? Did both of you take it up the butt, or just one of you? Like, who's the man and who's the woman." He paused to think for a long moment, and then said: "I guess you're old enough now to hear about it. We do many different things. There's no `woman,' just two men. Or sometimes more." I was shocked again. My head was swimming. "Yes, sometimes someone gets fucked in the butt. I've tried it before and I only like it once in a while, when I'm with someone I'm really close to and care about. So I'm usually the one doing the fucking. Guys like that are usually called `tops.' `Bottoms' are guys that like to get fucked more than they like to do the fucking. And there's nothing wrong with that. And now I think you've heard enough. Let's get back to the blind." That was a disappointment: He stopped talking before we even got anywhere. We did some stalking on our way to the blind, then stayed there until the sun started to set, saying nothing. We both had a few more shots of cinnamon whiskey and saw one buck. Before we could get our rifles up, he was scared away by a distant gunshot. I built a fire and we cooked the foil packs he had brought for dinner. After we ate, he brought out his pipe and the flask. He took a swig himself and passed it to me. "Why all this interest in my sex life, buddy? Those are pretty personal questions you asked," he said as he filled his pipe with tobacco. "I kind of... I just... I kind of like guys too. I mean... I haven't done anything yet. I've heard about guys in Boy Scouts having circle jerks, but that's it. Mostly I just hear guys calling other guys at school `faggot' and `queer.' And guys talking about fucking and getting fucked, but like making a threat or having a pissing contest. "Do they call you `faggot' or `queer?'" `Yeah, sometimes. But it's more of a joke. But I don't want to have sex with any girls. I... If I could..." I stopped. "If I could meet another guy that I could mess around with who wouldn't rat me out to everyone at school, I'd like to try." By then I was shivering, and it wasn't from the cold. "Ok, I completely understand. Just know that you can talk to me about anything. Whatever it is, it's cool with me. Just ask." "Thanks, Uncle Mike." We talked about other things from then on. How I was liking the hunt, times he'd gone out before with grandpa or other buddies. The next day we would try another blind, maybe one with more traffic. Between the cold, the whiskey and the late hour, I was ready for bed. I stripped down to my underwear in the camper and got into my sleeping bag. he stayed up to finish his pipe and wait until the fire died down enough to be safe. My head hit the pillow and I passed out. I woke up when he got in the camper for bed. Barely awake, I watched him strip out of his clothes down to his underwear. The he took those off. I could see the outline of his dick in the moonlight from outside. It was small and close to his body; a grower like mine. I could see how his foreskin tapered to a point, just like mine. I started getting hard and I reached through the fly of my boxers and slowly rubbed my cock. He got into his sleeping bag. and turned on his side. I reached over and rubbed the back of his head. "I love you, Uncle Mike." "I love you too, buddy. Good night." "Good night." _____________________________________________________________________ If you like what you're reading on Nifty, please make sure to donate to keep this FREE site going.