Date: Sun, 07 Apr 2024 12:52:01 +0000 From: dave10705 Subject: My Uncle, My Lover, My Sir-2 My Uncle, My Lover, My Sir-2 Nifty relies on donations to keep the site going at no cost to users, please donate generously. Please donate at https://donate.nifty.org/ Please help support Nifty by making a generous donation. You will, for certain, be rewarded in some karmic way. Hey all... It's a little lonely writing these. Not complaining because I like writing them. There's a Iot of detail work, for one. I always need inspiration and can provide some to you from my experience. I thank you for your replies on my Gregory series. Love to hear from you. This is a story with sexual bdsm scenes between a man (a blood relative) and a teenager (incest). If you are too young to legally read about such things, please do not. Like most of my stories, this one is based on real events and real people, although names and circumstances have been changed. I did have a gay uncle we did many of the things I describe in the story. He is a sweet and joyful man and I owe him a great deal. There is lots of explicit stuff, here...not for the faint hearted. Some of sex, including consenting BDSM, is embellished. But I believe we have the right to fully express our feelings. Again, I love getting emails with feedback about my stories AND maybe meet like minded brothers. I also write on Amazon under the name Logan North. Gay bdsm topics. dave10705@proton.me Love ya. _______________________________________ 2. Enjoying the Pain Uncle Allen and I had ravished each other's body. Arguably the kink had started. There was so much I wanted to do.have done to me. We agreed that in this first fuck (for me it was...I'd been blown by guys at school, but no fucking). Allen reached down and picked up a slave collar, black with silver studs. "You see boy, this is going to be slave training, and we'll do the things you need to learn to be a proper slave to serve men." Remember, I'm 13 and Allen is 50. So he is definitely in charge and I was so ready. After fastening the collar, Allen restrained both my wrists and legs in cuffs secured to the bed. I was spread eagle. Every move, every act was new for me, though nothing I hadn't fantasized about and beat off to. My Uncle Allen is my lifetime gay BDSM companion. I'm proudly collared by him and in the new proud kink revolution, we consider each other our version of married. Since I was about six, we've flirted with each other, even as he married my Aunt Cici. I best remember going to Jones Beach, area 6, the gay section with him. Allen would bring my bathing suit, always a new one. And always a speedo. They were skimpy, i.e., narrow waist bands, and always a bit too small. That made them look like they were painted on me to present my bulge and showcase my full ass cheeks. I was confused by the fact he had married a woman. But I liked him so much. He made me comfortable with my sexuality. Guys were hot (not women). We'd rate the boys on the beach as to who was prettiest. We had slightly different tastes. Allen liked blond boys, I liked older guys with salt-and-pepper hair. But for each of us, our attractions had a common denominator: sexiness. These trips to the beach went on for five, six years. It was a great "time out" for my uncle from his desert-like marriage. We hardly said the word gay to each other, maybe never. We didn't have to. One day at the beach, Allen slipped his hand between my thin Lycra speedo (green that day, I remember). I couldn't have been more than nine years old. He was drinking a beer. He reached for a new bottle and then slowly but firmly gave me my first BDSM experience. Harder and harder he hit my ass cheeks with the bottle. He later said he wanted to see my butt jiggle. This went on for a while when he peeled off my Speedos completely (we were at the functional nude section. Allen continued patting my bare cheeks with the cold beer bottle. Then he poured the beer over my back, butt, and legs. He grabbed his finger and opened up my asshole... and twisted the bottle inside... and poured cold beer up my ass. It stung for sure, but felt so sexy. Without the least bit of shame, Allen then tongued my ass. He plunged his mouth and sucked out the beer. I knew some guys nearby were watching but they liked what they saw. A couple of beachgoers cheered us on. _________________________ But here we are now in Allen's playroom in Florida. I'm in his bed, ready to serve my Sir. Allen starts assessing the situation, as he likes to do. He pulls out a bottle of poppers,Taiwan Blue, my favorite. And it has extra punch, so I'm flying after a few deep huffs at his command. And I'm also calm, at the same time. This is safe ground. He begins playing with my nipples, harder and harder. I like it and moan with pleasure. So he reaches for nipple clamps, those menacing big medieval-looking devices. I have no problem taking the tightening, stinging sensation in my nipples. Then Allen turns away to his work bench. He's put on a half-executioner's hood. It shocked me. I've only seen pictures. It ramped up Allen's menacing look. He wants more serious action and I'm ready. What's he going to do to me? Well, first Allen turns on some ominous, dark music. It's cool and I associate it with the hot group scenes I've had at the clubs in New York. I call it gay fuck music. He kisses me and starts playing with my neck. Slowly at first, Allen grips my neck. We nod to each other. Choke sex. I want it. He takes off my leather collar and throws it to the floor. I can feel my blood constricted and I begin to feel faint. I can't stop and I don't want Allen to stop. He gets this real threatening look as he keeps constricting my breathing. He hocks some spit that just drips down my cheeks. He reaches for a metal chain that he hangs my neck with. This is going to another level. Serious choking here. He could end me but I don't want him to stop. I'm desperate for air, choking, gagging...fully surrendering. My face is beet red. And then he stops suddenly. Allen sensed this was a limit. We could do it again...but not much deeper. He stood back, moved away as I struggled to regain my breath. If this was a new menu item, it would be exciting. And because it was my Uncle Allen, I never freaked out. He knew me and I knew him. In all my years, all 13 of them, I'd never been fucked. I just didn't want to give my ass up to anyone. Allen as my shaman was the only one I trusted. He knew, how I couldn't figure, that I was a pain slut and wanted to get my ass thrashed. So here we were, my well desired ass presenting in a sling. Allen reached for a crop. He might have noticed old marks from dudes who I had sought out for heavy caning. Why? I enjoy the unique, exquisite pain. I enjoy the sense of accomplishment, the boundary pushing. The freedom. One time at school, my swimming coach, Jackson, as sadists and masters do, noticed each other. I was an eager sub and a pain pig and a definite, confident gay boy. Coach just knew it. We have a nonverbal sense of each other. Coach and I kept having conversations in his office as we sized each other up. After practice one day, as everybody left. he asked me to bend over. He pulled down my team issued white speedos and inspected my ass. This really wasn't sexual in my eyes. I had a deep need for pain--and where it came from, well don't bother me with psychological bull shit. It was real and rational. That I could express it and take it was beautiful and freeing for me. I mean I often cry tears of joy getting spanked or paddled. And coach pulled out a dildo and lube from his desk. That and his cane lashes were powerful. I wanted more. For coach, same deal but same emotions. He craved a young male ass and it turned him on. He said he only got hard when he saw the first welts appear. He was a hero to me. So coach and I arranged the next day to take ourselves to the pool, which was quiet and locked down. "You can scream your lungs out, Jace." Nobody's gonna hear you or rescue you." Just FYI, not a threat. I stripped nude and bent over, presenting my gay ass proudly, hands around my ankles. Coach let go with the cane with no restraint. From the first about fifty lashes, the pain was exquisite. I was allowed to jump in the pool to get some relief, but did it only a few times. The best moments came when I didn't hold back at all: I let out blood curdling screams, and as the video later showed, gestured in agony with my hand to the ceiling, to another being, to humanity. To me it was a beautiful feeling. _____________________________ So here we are back and Allen starts caning my ass. This was the start of taking my cherry, a glorious event for gay boys everywhere. Allen later said the welts and my screams really drove him wild. It made fucking me easy, deeply erotic, and easy. I wound up with an ass full of his baby juice. He felched it out and snowballed it to me. We collapsed on each other and took a break. That's the yin and yang of healthy BDSM. You chase the limits and establish a deep bond that brings powerful intimacy. I was a lucky 13-year old to have my Uncle Allen with me. And the night was not nearly over. And then the summer to pursue a boy's freedom and embrace of his BDSM life and his hot uncle's ongoing pursuit of joy and convention smashing...and love of breaking taboos. I was all good, real, and very calming. No drama, no deadly emotional pain. Just freedom and joy.