Date: Mon, 26 Dec 2016 17:15:11 +0100 From: Rick Brown Subject: My Nephew Jaime 2 I stopped my gentle motion and decided to let my penis finish from here. I was still halfway inside my nephew Jaime's sweet little ass, having probed no deeper. And now, on the verge of ejaculation, I rose above him on straight arms and exhaled with pleasure as my load began rhythmically pumping inside him. I wanted to remain motionless, fearful I might lose self-control, hunker down and begin ramming home my cock as deep as it would go. But, unable to resist pleasure's temptation, I pulled back until only my slippery, spermy head was inside him, and drove forward until I'd passed, though not by much, the halfway point, shooting the last of my semen in the process. All my strength gave way afterwards and I crumpled on top of the little boy's pale body momentarily, my lungs emptied out as well, before rising up again, pulling out of him and looking down in a state of near disbelief at my own glossy, spent cock and at my fresh white semen oozing from Jaime's dilated hole and running down his hairless little balls to the sheet. "Oh!" I cried a penultimate time. "Oh..." Moments later Jaime and I were sitting up on the bed, our arms around each other's backs. Partly out of love, and partly out of gratitude, I kept leaning over to kiss the shiny brown hair atop Jaime's head, which smelled sweetly of the peaches-and-cream shampoo I'd bought for him to use during his stay. "Was I OK?" Jaime asked. "What do you mean OK?" "In...bed?" I laughed and gave my nephew a sideways hug. "Of course you were OK. You were great! You made a big mess though," I added, jokingly, "but..." "I did?" I pointed at the wetspot forward of Jaime's slender legs, which I'd meticulously shaved for him the previous dayÑhis first full day staying with me in the cabin. The blade had nicked him in a few places, especially around the knees, and here and there his legs bore little red marks. His knees were relatively flat and smooth, however, like a girl's, instead of knobby like a boy's. The tiny nicks were more due to my lack of shaving prowess than any irregularities in Jaime's adorable ten-year-old body. "That's the way it is with girls," I said, still pointing. "What?" "Vaginas." I looked down at my nephew. "You know what a vagina is?" "Sure," Jaime said, uncertainly. "Most of it leaks out. It's not nice and tight afterwards like a man's bottom." "How come it leaked out of me?" Jaime wondered. "Because I'm being careful. I'm only penetrating you, like, halfway." "Why don't you penetrate me all the way?" Jaime asked bravely. I gave him another sideways hug. "Because you're too small. I don't want to hurt you. Besides, I promised your dad..." "Oh screw dad," Jaime frowned. "Hey, now!" Just two days ago, on this very bed, my brother and I had taken turns ejaculating on Jaime's backside. Shortly afterwards his dad had departed, leaving a grateful Jaime in my care for a weeklong stay in my cabin in the woods. "Why're you so down on your dad?" "Like he cares." "I'm sure he does, son." Jaime raised an expression at me that was neither smiling nor frowning. His pretty blue eyes were narrowed however. "Halfway," he said. "That's a joke!" Jaime then twisted his naked body inside my arm, as if he were trying to seat himself deeper in the soft mattress. "Thanks for caring so much," Jaime said to me. "But if you want to go deeper you can. It doesn't hurt." "We'll see," I replied. I sat in silence with my nephew for awhile, wondering how we should spend the rest of our day. It was fairly warm, if clouded over. We could go out on the lake again, like yesterday. Jaime didn't like to fish but he did like to go out in the boat, whose little outboard I sometimes let him steer. But that would mean putting clothes back on, and I so coveted the sight of my nephew's naked body I found myself resisting. Don't be selfish, I told myself. "What would you like to do today, Jaime?" My nephew seemed in a trance. He was looking to his right, out a bedroom window through which tepid sunlight not so much streamed as entered flatly. As if window and sill were a two-dimensional painting. Jaime raised his right arm. He pointed. "See that?" "What?" The drapes were open but I wasn't much concerned. No one ever came around here. And if they didÑa distant neighbor, sayÑthey wouldn't be sneaking around to the bedroom window; they'd knock at the front door. Still, it was perhaps foolhardy on my part leaving the drapes wide open while having sexual intercourse with my ten-year-old nephew. "That," Jaime replied. I squinted. "I don't see anything, son." Jaime's right arm was now drooping in the same way my glossy penis had after I pulled out of him, spent. "It's gone," he said. "What was it?" I asked, my concern growing a tad. In fact I was detaching my body from Jaime's and sliding toward the side of the bed. "Something shiny," he replied. "It was there for, like, three seconds, hovering, then it was gone." My precocious nephew's power of observation, and his ability to articulate it, staggered me. No wonder he was in some kind of educational fast-track program that left his fourth grade counterparts in the dust. Jaime was already reading at a junior highschool level according to his mom. He would probably be in college by age 16. I would help out. If he was destined for Harvard, or for Oxford for that matter, then Harvard or Oxford it would be. Unlike my brother I had no wife, no partner currently, no kids. And thanks to Facechat, the stock not the social media site itself, which I'd bought at about 10% of its current market value, I had money to burn. Hence the cabin on a private lake. I was at the window now, careful to keep off to one side. The window was fully down and locked, thankfully. I yanked the curtains shut, plunging us into relative darkness. "Was it a hummingbird?" Jaime asked. "How big was it?" Jaime held his hands out at a measuring distance of nearly a meter. "Then it wasn't a hummingbird, darling," I declared. I moved quickly to my clothing, which was draped over a bedroom chair. I looked over my shoulder. "Honey? Get dressed, OK? And then pull these sheets off the bed and throw `em in the wash." I watched Jaime roll his blue eyes. This was the third consecutive day I'd instructed him to change and wash dirty, sperm-sodden sheets. The poor kid must be wondering if I was consigning him to maid's duty during his stay. "Hurry," I added. "Why?" "I don't know." "Was it a drone?" My fucking brother. My fucking brother had planted in his son's head, before he left us to ourselves, the idea that enemy drones might be lurking out here in the middle of nowhere. "Watch out," he'd told Jaime, before parting. "I doubt it," I now lied. "A drone maybe but not an armed, enemy one." "I think there may've been a camera on the bottom," Jaime said, as he pulled up the pair of size 5 microfiber panties I'd bought for him to wear around the house. Girl's panties. God he looked cute in them! That little cluster of penis and balls in the crotch? "Either that or a weapon," he added. "It probably wasn't a weapon," I again lied, as I buttoned my shirt. "Although a camera might be just as bad..." "Can they penetrate glass?" I looked up. My nephew had beaten me to the punch. He was already dressedÑpanties, sweatshirt, jeansÑaside from his pretty bare feet whose nails I'd painted cherry-red the day before, after shaving him. His disheveled brown hair hung down below his ears in a pageboy cut, the bangs reaching to his eyebrows. God he was cute! Drones... "Their cameras?" "Their weapons systems," Jaime replied. "No. I don't know." Adding, "That's probably why it didn't fire at us." The precocious Jaime, pulling the stained sheet off the bed: "I thought you said it wasn't a weapon." All the pretty ten-year-old boys in the world and my nephew had to be a fucking genius? "I...don't know Jaime. You're asking me questions I can't...Maybe it was a mirage." "A mirage? Like in the desert? We're in the woods." "Jaime," I pointed. "The washing machine, OK?" "OK. All right already. Jeez..." I let Jaime, with his armful of bedclothes, precede me through the bedroom door. When he was safely out of view in the kitchen I headed to the fireplace, with its dying embers, stepped up onto the stone base and took down from above the mantle, with its assortment of bronze reproductions of naked Greek youths, my 12-gauge. It was an over-under type. Two shots. Designed for hunting or skeet shooting not, say, short-range combat. I broke it open. Both barrels loaded. I grabbed a box of shells and headed to the front door. The obedient Jaime was busy loading the washer in the kitchen. "Stay inside," I ordered. "Where you going?" "More firewood." "Huh?" I slammed the cabin door behind me, advanced to porch's rickety edge with raised gun, safety off, and surveyed the sky. It was clouded over. It appeared as empty, seemingly, as my balls...