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Alice, My Uncle, & Me Ch. 01

By: John Hill



This is the account of the first of five nights that studly 18 year old Mikey spends together with Mike, the 24-year old uncle he idolizes, and Mike's fascinating and beautiful 22-year old fiancé Alice.

Alice and My Uncle and Me: Day 1

The room was completely dark. But my senses had never been so alert! I was sitting in an chair upholstered in a rather nubby fabric and with any tiny motion, any slight shifting, my naked arms and legs were stimulated almost beyond toleration; the slightest movement and caused my balls to drag against the rather rough material. My throbbing penis, towering in the air above my balls, felt nothing unless it might have been to brush against the hair above or below my navel as it trembled in space. I could not even will myself to touch it, not now! The soft, smoky voice of Linda Ronstadt was coming from somewhere in the darkness, singing "Someone To Watch Over Me." In the air, there was unmistakably the strong, musky smell of sex. Slowly, slowly, almost insensibly, I came to be aware of the loom in the darkness of a vague shape. No! it was not a trick of my eyes, there was a shape manifesting itself in the gloom. Above, in the ceiling, a tiny glow grew more obvious, and then slowly, slowly below the glow the shape, right in front of my eyes, took on a slight bit of color -- it was flesh -- and as the glow from above grew subtly brighter, the shape below resolved itself into two figures on a bed. I perfectly well knew it was my uncle Mike and his fiancee, Alice, and within a few moments under the gradual strengthening of the light their particular shapes became obvious.

I was sitting in a chair not two feet from the bed, and all my senses were focussed upon the events there transpiring, mere inches away. At first I could see only my uncle's wonderful body. First coming into view in the gradually widening pool of dim light was his beautiful butt, covered with with what I knew to be a dark blond fine fur; then his powerful legs, also covered with hair, could be resolved; and then, from my vantage point, his big arms and wide shoulders.

At first I could not see Allie at all, not until a smaller lamp, on a table on the opposite side of the bed begin to glow, first feebly, and then more brightly, for she was entirely covered by my uncle's body. I say that she was "covered," but my uncle was not in fact lying upon her. To my complete amazement, he was suspended above her body, which seemed tiny in comparison to his muscular, six-foot frame. Supported by his toes well below her tiny feet, and his big arms on either side of her chest, his body was quite rigid, in the posture of a man doing a pushup. 

As the light slowly grew better, I crept out of my chair and knelt close to the side of the king-sized bed, to optimize my view, and it became clear that though they were in coitus, they were tangent at only two points. My uncle had bent down his head to meet the upturned face of Allie, and their mouths were locked in a persevering deep kiss. The other point of connection was my uncle's large phallus, half-buried in Alice's cunt. Other than that, Alice was free to move, her arms and legs and trunk entirely unencumbered, and her legs were wide apart. My uncle flexed his great arms, and his body rose still further above Alice, and his cock retreated an inch or even two from her cunt; but it was a slight additional flexing of his hips and knees that caused it to withdraw nearly completely from her body, such that only the cockhead remained buried within, and the other seven inches were bridging the chasm between them.

With great deliberation and no evidences of haste, my uncle reversed the procedure, but this time with a slight cocking of his hips, a slight screwing motion, and his mighty cock disappeared again, slowly, but right to the root, his balls, which had been hanging above her, slapping onto her body between her legs. As he deliberately repeated these motions, with no haste, no anxiety, I could see that he was taking care that during the length of every stroke, both downward and upward, the veiny upper surface of his cock was deliberately pressed against Alice's clitoral region, relentlessly against the most sensitive and responsive part of her sex. It was amazing to me that such a relatively small woman could have her cunt so dilated.

What must it be like, I wondered, to be fucked like that? At 18, and a big-time stud in my own high-school back in Pennsylvania, I stupidly thought I knew something about fucking. I'd been fucking since I was 14 and I'd had sex -- coitus anyway -- with 8 different girlfriends, and pretty thorough oral sex workouts with six of them; and I had double-dated with some pretty experienced teammates of mine; and god knows I had seen enough video porn; but it had never crossed my mind that there could be fucking like this!

For Alice, could it have been like an angel had come down from heaven to fuck her? So artfully, so manfully, so skillfully that my uncle seemed to be floating above her, only to distend and fill her sex organs with his large warm phallus, and expertly to stimulate her clitoris with his rigidly firm cock? And to masterfully fuck her mouth with his tongue? But otherwise, to hover above her like a protective spirit? He was real, all right. She could raise her hands just a few inches and comb her fingers through the great mat of golden fur on his powerful chest, just above her own lush breasts. And his heavy balls from time to time would briefly nestle in the warm damp space between her vagina and her fundament, before they ascended again into the void above her.

Presently, she grew full and flush in her sex, and she felt she was compelled to move to another stage, beyond the stately, deliberate pace that her man had set. She could have just signaled to him by any of a dozen little nuanced ways - a whispered syllable in his ear, maybe a set of paired gasps, or just a couple of extra little moves on her part. But they were practiced lovers, and she simply touched him on the right buttock with a single finger, twice in quick succession, and on the very next upstroke, he held his position halfway between being fully buried in her vagina and nearly entirely withdrawn. With split-second coordination, it seemed, she began moving against his rigid and now more or less stationary cock. She placed her own hands beneath her butt, and expertly writhed dolphin-style so that she stroked her cunt up and down his great phallus. I was amazed at the distance she could cause her cunt to travel by this manoeuvre, for I would not have thought that she could have either room or agility to completely encompass his cock at one end of her movement, and equally to expose almost all its length at the other end of her up-and-down cycle -- but she did! And beneath and between his large and notably hairy legs, she had freedom to scissor her own legs together and apart, to a certain extent, anyway, but sufficient to give herself the most exquisite sensations in her vagina and in her clitoris. Her cunt seemed to me to be almost a separate thing alive, as though it were grasping and relaxing and hugging and releasing the great phallus that united the two beautiful creatures.

Meanwhile, Linda Ronstadt was crooning "For Sentimental Reasons," and I quietly crept from kneeling at the side of the bed where this action was only a very few inches from my face, to the foot of the bed, where I had an entirely different perspective to view the wonderful full round mounds of my uncle's butt and the large testicles dangling between the two lovers, and the living phallic connection between them. I stood there, but not transfixed, for I was busy. At last I had my hand on my own cock, so very nearly identical to my uncle's, and I stroked it expertly.

I was so very nearly overwrought, however, that it took me only a dozen strokes before I was at the very brink. I held off, and resisted the almost irresistible imperative to continue, but I thought I could be strong. Just then, however, the first of Alice's cries of true ecstasy rang out, though it seemed that by a great intake of breath she had tried to suppress them; and then another. I stood no chance of holding off myself. In two or three more pumps, I exploded, and the first of three great jets of cum sailed into the air, the first landing on my uncle's back and then the next two on back of his big left thigh.

Everything seemed to be happening at once suddenly. Alice, temporarily exhausted, left off her frenzied motions, and lay still. My uncle then resumed his masterful stroking, but from my new vantage point, it all looked different. How obvious now was the flexing of his great leg and butt muscles as he pleasured his woman! But before she cried out again (as she soon would twice more!), he paused, and, supporting himself on just his right arm, reached with his left to the back of his thigh where my warm cum and fallen, and touched it with his finger, and then tapping his finger and thumb together, confirmed from the sticky character of the substance he could not see, just what had occurred. He quickly spread the mass into the golden hair on his leg - perhaps it was really just to clean off his hand - and then resumed his previous position.

With a final series of hard and somewhat corkscrewing strokes, he brought Alice to a still higher plane of pure, exhausting pleasure, and he himself pumped into her load after load of semen. From where I stood I could, or thought I could, almost see his testicles shudder. Of course we know that the actual contractions that express the seed have nothing to do with the balls, but it was a metaphor so strong and obvious that my eyes were easily deceived by my emotions.

Mike did not collapse upon his small but strong and lithe and resilient partner, who had often enough in the past supported his full weight. Instead, in a complex move of great beauty he seemed to scoop her up just as he rolled over onto his back, so that suddenly she was on top of him, without their union ever being broken.

I loved Alice from the first minute I ever saw her. That was back more than a year ago in Pennsylvania, when Mike had brought her home "to meet the parents," and we knew it was serious between them. Since he was 14 Mike had been dating the most beautiful girls ever seen in our parts. In high school he dated a long series of really cute girls, incredibly fresh and wonderful. He enjoyed dating a lot, and it seemed that every six weeks or so there was a new babe on his arm, somehow each of them hotter than the previous ones.

I know that's not possible, but that's how it seemed to me, from my perspective as his six-year-younger nephew, namesake, and huge admirer. I wasn't really his 'admirer,' I was his secret idolator. As described at great length in the series "Cross-country with my Uncle," I thought my young uncle was like a god. He was incredibly handsome, a truly great athlete (he got a baseball scholarship to Stanford), extremely popular, and the valedictorian from a pretty high-power high school in New Hope, in Bucks County. He lived three houses away from me, and I was his only nephew; he had no brothers, and his much older sister was my mom.

Though we had six years difference in our ages, I followed right in his footsteps. He was a very talented trumpeter, and I got state-wide recognition for my trombone playing. I was an eagle scout in the same troop that he made Eagle. I played second base on the high school team, just like him, and we went to the State Championship; and I also played WR in the fall and Forward on the b-ball team. And so forth. By the time I was fifteen, I shot up to 6'1", one inch taller than my uncle Mike, but thanks to great genes and working out, he had an amazing body, big chest, great definition six-packed abs. I had slightly bigger shoulders, and someday I'd put on all the muscle he had, at least I hoped. But in the next years, more and more we came to look alike. We were both blue-eyed blonds (though my eyes were lighter than his deep azure ones, and so was my hair: he had medium blond and curly hair), with notably athletic builds, but we had more resemblance than that. We were actually remarkably similar, more like close brothers than uncle and nephew, with almost the same baritone voices, the same chin and dimples, and in little things, like ears and hands, we were almost indistinguishable. I guess the biggest physical difference between us (apart from his bigger chest and arms and thighs), was the fact that while we both had lots of thick hair on our arms and legs that the sun readily bleached almost to white by early summer, my uncle's chest and belly were garnished by a generous manly array of hair, whereas I was just headed that way.

Okay, physically we were remarkably similar. Emotionally, we were remarkably sympathetic. All my life I had idolized my young uncle, admired him far beyond the normal bounds of hero-worship; and on his side, he'd indulged and petted me and generally spoiled me without limit. He had always been there for me, no matter what, at least until he went off to college and I saw so much less of him, though he always managed to stay in touch with me. There's no question that he enjoyed my idolatry, my worship, and, as I grew up, and developed more skills, he admired me too.

All of this is described in my earlier account, "Cross-Country with My Uncle," wherein I tell how my uncle and I take a five-day trip from Pennsylvania to California, and how, early in the course of the trip we become deeply intimate. In fact it was the physical culmination of a mutual desire that we had felt for years, but which neither of us was able to express, until this opportunistic occasion.

The purpose of the trip had been for Mike take some antiques and family heirlooms from the homeplace in Pennsylvania to the new house he and Alice were to move into after their wedding, scheduled for the Saturday after we arrived in California.

Mike and Alice met while they were students at Stanford. Mike, now 24, had graduated from Stanford two years ago, and he was working as a computer engineer for a small but very successful software company. Alice, now 22, had graduated from Stanford only a few weeks ago with a double major in psychology and statistics. When she had started Stanford she thought she would be a statistics major, and she had never even taken a high school course in psychology, but once she'd taken her first course, she was hooked, it fascinated her. As a matter of fact, the way it is practiced at the research level, half of psychology is statistics anyway, and she was by far the best prepared of her graduating class in that area.

But she was remarkably well-rounded. In high school, she had spent her junior year - actually 14 months-- as an exchange student in the beautiful old city of Dijon, and she was truly fluent in French, and thoroughly conversant with French culture and affairs. The day I first met her she was preparing to play the title role in Phaedra, to be performed by a student group in the original French. Only at Stanford! She had been accepted to Stanford Graduate School of Business as a candidate for their MBA program, to start in the fall. And she played the clarinet quite competently.

Like every woman Mike had ever dated, she was remarkably beautiful. Actually, she was drop-dead gorgeous, but in a fresh-faced, athletic way. She wasn't quite 5'3", and she had a wonderful body! It was, somehow, both athletic and zaftig at the same time. Despite not being tall, her legs seemed long and lithe, probably because of the subtle definition of the long muscles of her limbs. But while her bust was quite womanly, her hips and butt seemed more athletic than lush. In any case, her athleticism always made her seem somehow bigger, to take up just a little more room than she did in objective reality. She had played soccer since grade school, and in France she picked up some skills that are rarely possessed by American girls. But she loved the outdoors, and hiking, biking, skiing, and even on occasion a little rock climbing.

She could have been Mike's sister, at least in the face, with almost the same deep blue eyes and blond hair, and she too had dimples, but they were shyer, a little less often seen, than Mike's. Alice never wore, or at least never seemed to wear, makeup. Beautiful nails, but always the 'sport' manicure, short, neat, no enamel. Her hair was typically in some short and sensible style, and that characterized her clothing choices too.

She was ideal for Mike. Beautiful, yes (at least as beautiful as he was!), smart and sensible, yes, but it was her personality that was so notably congruent with Mike's. She was friendly, frank, often hilarious, and she had (he came to know) qualities of decency and constancy and that resonated with Mike's own. On the trip Mike and I had talked often of Alice and her qualities. And Mike had looked right into my eyes and quietly, from the depths of his heart, said that he would gladly die for her, would be torn limb from limb for her, and I didn't doubt it for a second.

I had met her more than a year ago back home in Bucks County. He'd brought her home for the long Labor Day weekend. I knew that she was something special, and Mike made sure that the three of us got to spend time together alone, with a nice hike out along the Delaware that gave us a chance for a good long talk, several hours together. And of course there were several occasions, barbecues, restaurants, etc., to see the two of them together. It was deeply impressed by her great combination of discretion, modesty, and charm; and she seemed to be completely at ease in any setting, and always able to make very interesting contributions to the conversation, whether the topic was the Bauhaus or the flaws in "Coming of Age in Samoa," or, say, which book of the Barchester Chronicles was the most satisfying, and how long a prohibition on fishing for cod off the Grand Banks would be necessary in order for stocks to rebuild.

The next visit almost got me in trouble. It was longer, almost a week, from the day after Christmas through New Year's Day. This time Mike and Alice and I spent a lot of time together, playing games, hiking, and spending a day and a night in New York City together, staying in our family's little pied-a-terre on the Upper East Side. Alice and I got to know each other quite well, it seemed, but how I got in trouble, or almost, was that my steady girl, Cassie, quite reasonably got jealous of Alice, since I quite obviously was smitten with her. I thought then, and know for sure now, that Alice really liked me too.

Now Alice was a deep file, a careful observer, and a trained psychologist, and someone who had known Mike very, very profoundly by that Christmas. What became obvious to her, though neither Mike nor I would have admitted it, was that he and I shared a very deep love for one another, a love that was overlain with and threaded through with a physical desire for one another, a desire that neither of us could openly manifest to the other, and not really acknowledge to himself. But Alice unmistakably realized it, in our words, in our casual touches, in our glances (did we actually stare at each other?), in what we each said to Alice about the other.

Alice and Mike had a most wholesome and open relationship, and they seemed to be able to talk about anything to one another (I came to learn, anyway). Back in California, Alice told Mike what she had deduced about Mike and me, and as soon as it was expressed in words, Mike realized that of course it was absolutely true. That we had loved each other all our lives, but that once I had gone through puberty ( that was during the years he was at college), and grown tall and big, but with features so very like his own, he had come to see me as an object of sexual desire. And of course that I completely and unreservedly had worshipped him all my life, and that my feelings did not exclude sexual yearnings for him. Indeed, for the trained outside observer these yearnings were all too obvious, and this despite the fact that I had a very active social and sexual life, with excellent relations with a string of high school babes, the last eight of whom I fucked regularly to their satisfaction and mine.


Alice, My Uncle, & Me Ch. 01



Mike had had a long, long string of relationships since he was 14, and during college they included a certain number of three-way things, and they included a number of men as well as women. He was just a very attractive and friendly guy. I don't think any of his male sexual relationships were very long-lasting; they tended to be rather casual 'fun' things. But he knew a fair amount about both sides of the street. Of course back in Pennsylvania we didn't have any idea of any of that.

Alice, as a student of human nature, and the human psyche, wasn't surprised at any of this, and she didn't condemn it either. For her, it was all part of the human condition, of the quality of being human. And as far as she knew - and she would have bet everything he had on it - that Mike's relationships were affirming and wholesome and fundamentally kindly.

So when Mike asked her to be his bride, she had no second thoughts whatsoever in joyfully consenting. She knew the depth and sincerity of his attachment to her, and the content of his character. And in consenting she said that she wanted to assure Mike that she knew that Mike deeply loved me, and that there would always be a place in their life for me. Of this conversation so directly affecting me, taking place three thousand miles away, I had no inkling. Indeed even the fundamental facts of the situation, so well seen by Alice, I did not myself actually understand.

All this was eventually disclosed to me by Mike during our five day trip across country, when he and I finally acted upon our deep mutual sexual attraction. In reality, it was not a matter of sexual lust; it was far deeper and more complex than that. It was, in fact, love, but compounded of what the Greeks called agape (spiritual love), storge (familial love), and philia (love between friends) as well as eros. It was only this last that had not previously been manifested between us, but on this trip, we explored many aspects of the last-named. Or to put coarsely what was in reality a thing of great beauty, we had fucked and sucked each other all the way across America.

Mike also told me that while there was no doubt that Alice had meant everything she had said to Mike about there always being a place in their lives for me; but the exact shape of that place depended upon how the three of us worked out the details, and it would be a complex and subtle matter. Mike had said that I shouldn't expect to just jump into their bed, but that that would come in time, provided I proved to her that in reality I had the character and the qualities of manhood that Mike had represented to her that I possessed, that I was one in whom she could vest every confidence and trust; and of course that I respected her and her position in Mike's life.

So late on Tuesday afternoon in June, five years ago, Mike drove the rental van into the driveway of the little townhouse Alice rented near Palo Alto, with me on the passenger side. That Saturday was to be their wedding day, and Mike had asked me to be his Best Man. The next day, Sunday, Mike and Allie would fly off to Maui for their honeymoon, and I would fly back to Denver, where my new friend Steve would pick me up. For the rest of the summer I would be working on a dude ranch on the Western Slope of Colorado, about two hours away from Steve's family's ranch in southern Wyoming.

Hearing the truck lumbering into the driveway, Allie threw open the front door of the house, rushed over to the truck and ripped open the driver's side door before Mike had even set the brake. She climbed up onto the running board and threw her arms around Mike's head and, not saying a word, crushed his face to hers, and, tilting her head a little, kissed him hard, and very deeply, and held it for a minute. He put his big left hand onto the side of her right breast, and his right hand onto her left breast. She was wearing some short casual white shorts that dramatized her California tan, and a somewhat loose little pink singlet that displayed her beautiful athletic arms, but did not particularly show off the chest that was, if anything, the finest feature this beautiful woman possessed.

Mike and I had been wearing nothing but little running shorts and our Nikes, having dispensed with our tee shirts just after we'd had lunch near Sacramento. Funny thing is that as soon as we had gotten to Palo Alto, maybe ten miles from Allie's little house, Mike's cock had tented his little shorts, and then in order to drive he had to 'adjust' his crotch, such that his cockhead, or almost all of it, now practically purple, stuck out from the little elastic waistband of his shorts. Seeing that -- who could have missed it! -- I helplessly followed suit. As soon as we pulled into the driveway, though, I at least pulled on my teeshirt, which was long enough to cover the bulge at my waistband, even if it would not satisfactorily thwarted any sort of real scrutiny of my crotch. But Allie wasn't concerned with me right then.

In fact it was quite some time before they broke their kiss, and Allie grabbed Mike's hands and pulled him out of the cab of the truck. There, standing on the driveway, they met in a complete embrace, Mike bending his face over and a little down to Allie's upturned face for another long kiss, this time with Mike's big arms surrounding Alice, pulling her to his body quite forcefully. She seemed so small enfolded in his arms, but there was nothing delicate about her, for she projected as ever an image of life, activity, heartiness, even tiny as she seemed in comparison to my uncle. Encompassed by his great bear hug, her arms were actually folded at the elbows before her, so that her hands on his big chest, her fingers were threaded through his mat of golden hair, as their kiss persevered.

On the tiny back patio, overlooking a sloping grassland utterly typical of California, the green grass of spring already a memory, it having already ripened into a dusty yellow color, Allie had set out wine and crackers and cheese. Unloading the truck could wait till tomorrow; showers could wait until later. It was easy enough to catch up on the general points. Mike had talked to her virtually every day on the trip, sometimes twice, and so there wasn't too much in the way of superficial detail to share. At the California end, the wedding had been organized like a military operation and so far there wasn't a single hitch.

And somehow it didn't seem quite the time and place to talk about Mike and me or about Steve, the hitcher who rode with us from Nebraska to the middle of Nevada, with whom I was to wind up spending much of the rest of the summer. That would come later. So, rather unexpectedly, we wound up talking about books and current affairs and relatives back in Pennsylvania. Allie, as in the past, seemed very interested in me, and frankly seemed to be studying me. She didn't indulge in prying or trick questions, but she did seem to be listening very carefully to whatever I said.

Well after full night had fallen, we adjourned to the dining room, where Alice brought out a dinner as elegant as it was simple: a salad of mache and boston lettuce, dover sole, broccolini, and later coffee, and a tiny little saucer of Valrhona chocolates.

It was 10.30 before I went upstairs to take a tub, and when I came out, a half-hour later, Mike told me what he and Allie had decided.

That I was invited to be a guest in their bedroom tonight, but that there was to be absolutely no touching, and no speaking. I should not expect to have my presence even acknowledged. How discreetly I managed this remarkable offer would surely determine the kind of any future invitation that I might get.

Mike, a computer engineer, had months ago installed software that completely controlled everything in the little house, so that the air conditioning could be adjusted from anywhere across the internet, that appliances could be turned on and off remotely; that the sound system was centrally controlled, and that every light in the house could be separately controlled from a single computer. He told me that he had programmed the lights and sound in the bedroom, and that all I had to do was to take a seat in the beige chair next to the bed. That's all the instruction I was to have.

I walked into Allie's pleasant bedroom in the boxer shorts I was planning to wear as pajamas (out of decency), sat down in the chair, and in a few moments, all the lights in the room seemed to be suddenly dialed down by some invisible hand.

It was only a moment later when I heard the door from the bathroom open, and soft footsteps cross the carpet, and there was a small rustling in the vicinity of the bed.

I pulled off my shorts and felt the rasp of the rather nubby fabric of the chair upon my arms and legs.....

......After Mike had scooped up Alice in his arms and rolled over such that she was lying upon his body, I was again struck by how small she seemed in comparison to his large frame. Now for the first time I got a better view of her womanly hips and rear. Overall she had seemed to have a somewhat girlish figure below the waist, so I was surprised at how ripe and complete she looked unclothed. God, was she hot!

After several moments wherein Mike and Allie seemed to be merely stroking one another's face, Allie raised herself up and off of Mike's cock, which had all this time been within her, though no longer the raging rigid phallus it had been. Still it must have been very comfortable for her.

She lay beside him, with one of her smaller legs thrown over his big right leg, and she idly stroked his big chest, and kissed his ear, as Linda Ronstadt finished her last ballad. Then her small hand wandered down the thick trail of hair that led from his fully-thatched chest, across his six-packed abs, and down to his lower belly, as hairy as his chest, and her fingers lost themselves in the dense hair at the base of his fat cock.

Having learned so much about Mike in the previous four days, I was not at all surprised to see his penis immediately began to grow, and within the compass of a few seconds it was once again utterly rigid and throbbing.

By now I heard the familiar strains of Mozart's concerto in A for clarinet, which had for years been my favorite piece of music. Bizarrely, I was thinking, "Wow, why isn't there music like that for the trombone? There are a lot of heroic trombone parts - it has an incredible range - but nothing so ethereal as this concerto, nothing that so pierces the spirit." Obviously it was one of Alice's favorites as well as mine.

Alice was busy. She had knelt beside Mike's midparts, on his left, and placed her two hands on his cock. I knew exactly the size and shape of his cock; indeed it was identical with mine, but in her small hands it seemed even more enormous. She stood no chance of fully encircling the member with her hands, but using both hands together effectively, she began to jack him so sweetly, so delicately. And soon she was leaning down - she had not far to lean! - to put her lips around his cockhead as she jacked him. I had an incredibly excellent vantage point from which to see every detail of her adoration of his great throbbing member, that incredible paradox: both remarkably hard and amazingly soft at the same time. Surely there is nothing else like it in all nature!

From a slow and easy start, she grew more and more active, and it was plain that she was working wonders with her lips and tongue on my uncle's cockhead. My uncle was essentially spread-eagled, with his eyes closed, and a seraphic smile across his face. Shifting a bit, and spreading her legs just a little bit wider in her kneeling, so that she had an improved stability, Alice took more and more of his great penis into her mouth. I could hardly believe how much of my uncle's cock disappeared into her lips, and surely, inevitably, down her throat. Meanwhile, her small active hands never were without occupation, grasping the last inch of the root of his cock, or stroking his balls. 

At last he could take it no more, and his whole body shook, again and again. But Allie knew what she was doing, and I could see her swallow once, twice, three times, and then carefully licked clean Mike's entire shaft.

During this I had for the first time a really good opportunity to see her breasts. They were things of very great beauty, surprisingly generous for a woman so small, and yet firm and youthful too. They looked eminently caressable, loveable. I could only think of my cock neatly enfolded between them, or my cockhead teasing her fully erect nipples. But I could only dream.

Now, the concerto had ended, and Alice lay completely surrounded by Mike's powerful arms, and the lights began to fade, and soon we were once again in complete darkness.

After a some moments of absolute quiet, I assumed that they were both fast asleep. I was lying on the carpet beside the bed, only the shortest distance from where the uncle I idolized was lying with the women we both loved (I now realized).

I had to have relief again, for my cock was like iron. As I lay on the floor on my back, with my head toward the foot of the bed, looking up, in the last dim glow of the track lights above the bed, I saw hanging over the edge of the bed, the knee of my uncle, and up a little further, hanging almost over my head, the toes of his right foot. He was of course lying on his back, fairly close to the left side of the bed, near where I was.

Knowing I was risking everything, nevertheless I reached up onto the bed and touched Mike's toes. As I grasped them, he gently but unmistakably wiggled his toes, and actually grasped my finger between his big toe and the next one! He was not asleep at all, and it seemed that he was communicating something to me.

Sitting up a little, I gently grasped his hairy ankle and slowly and gently pulled his foot and lower leg off the bed, so that it flexed at the knee, and his foot was, or would be on the floor. I scooted down just a little, so that my belly was directly below his foot, and I placed it right on my thigh. He moved it around a in a small circle, and instantly found my throbbing cock with the edge of his foot, and with a little more manoeuvring on my part, soon his toes were stroking my great cock, so nearly identical with his own. I almost went crazy. I got incredible stimulation from his fairly subtle motions, but my phallus was of course way too big for him to grasp between his toes, and so I had to do all the stroke work, working my cock with right hand, as I rubbed my cock along his foot, and he reciprocated by rubbing his foot up and down my cock.

Meanwhile with my left hand, I grasped his hairy ankle, with hair, and massaged it. Soon I was spent, and my cum was all over my belly and chest, but with the ball of his foot, my uncle subtly smeared it around and into the dense hair of my lower belly. I slowly and luxuriantly kissed each of the toes of my uncle's foot, and then his ankle; and then he quietly drew his leg back onto the bed. I lay in perfect repose for a long moment, reflecting with satisfaction that I had just had sex with my uncle's foot - and it was some of the best sex I'd ever had! -- before I drifted off to a deep sleep, ending the fifth and final day of my cross-country trip with my uncle, and the first of four totally remarkable nights with Mike and Alice..



Alice, My Uncle, & Me Ch. 02



This is the account of the second of five nights that studly 18 year old Mikey spends together with Mike, the 24-year old uncle he idolizes, and Mike's fascinating and beautiful 22-year old fiancé Alice.

The next morning I awoke with a boner. I was in a puddle of sun on the floor beside Alice's bed. Someone had thrown a comforter over me, and I had had a deep and restful night.

Lying there, I could have had no idea how I would wind up this day, lying between Alice and my young uncle, my face covered with her quim and his cum, with his seed deep within my body, and with her caressing my leg with her face and he giving me the most exquisite jacking any man ever had received.

I threw the comforter aside, rose from the carpet and stumbled, naked, to the bathroom to piss. Just when I was shaking off, my uncle opened the door and reached over with a hand on either cheek, pulled my face to his and gave me a big, fat kiss on the lips. With a smile he said, "She likes you, Mikey. Reaching down with his right hand he gave my cock a friendly squeeze. "Actually, I think she loves you!"

I pulled on a tee shirt and my shorts and walked into the sunny kitchen. Alice and Mike had been up more than an hour. Alice looked up -- God! was she beautiful! What a smile! What a face! What a body! -- and said in her cheeriest manner, "Good morning, Sunshine!" And she took a couple of steps my way and drawing close, surprised me by giving me a pleasant buss right on the cheek. It was somewhat sisterly, but it pleased the shit right out of me! And being -- if just for a moment -- that close, her scent drove me wild. It was fresh, and subtle rather than blatant, but for me it was a very powerful stimulant, and it caused my dick to chub up, uselessly of course, and potentially embarrassingly.

They were ready for a quick morning run, while it was still cool and refreshing. I pulled on my shoes and in just a few minutes we were out the door. There was an agreeable path running through the valley meadow that Alice's patio overlooked, down by a hillside spotted with California oaks, and back up to the crest of the hill above Allie's place. At a mild pace it was a 40-minute jog. I think by design Mike lagged just a little behind, giving Alice and me an opportunity to talk. She asked me about my college plans, and I said that I had my eye on Stanford, "just like Mike," and that in fact during the state baseball championship a couple of months ago I was scouted by Stanford's eastern recruiting team. It was a possibility. Alice went, "But what do you want out of college, Mikey?" and I didn't hesitate. I pretty much gave her chapter and verse from a book I'd just finished, The Aims of Education, though I didn't expressly cite it. With a smile, she abashed me inadvertently when she went, "So I see you've been reading Alfred North Whitehead." She knew his work well, including The Aims. She said that indeed Stanford was exactly the sort of place where I could have an experience that Whitehead would have endorsed. She introduced some of the main notions in process philosophy, but it was clear I didn't know anything about it.

But we did move on to Necessity, Utility, Honor, and Fidelity. I knew nothing of the world; I had had almost no experience of it. You couldn't have found a more innocent character within a country mile. But that didn't stop me from dilating upon these large notions with the callow and idealistic enthusiasm of the high school senior. Fortunately we talked on a Wednesday, because Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays I was a Utilitarian; the other days a firm Positivist. Alice was (I now realize) very indulgent of me, but also she seemed to listen to what I had to say.

Back at Alice's Mike and I jumped in the truck, and Alice followed in her Jeep as we headed to the new house that they would be moving into, just a little closer to Stanford's campus. Mike's company arranged the financing for its key employees; otherwise it would have been impossible for even well-paid staffers like Mike to buy homes in that absurdly fevered market.

Mike and I made fairly quick work of unloading the truck, Alice directing us where to take things. The last thing to come out was a large, beautiful antique Tabriz carpet that my granddad had bought in Iran a half century ago while he was there on business. Mike was carrying the front end of the roll, and I was carrying the back. Alice said, "Wow, from the rear, if it weren't for your yellow floppy hair, Mikey, I wouldn't be able to tell you from your uncle." There's almost nothing in the world that she could have said that would have pleased me more. I knew I had the same general athletic frame as Mike, the same broad shoulders, and I knew could imitate Mike's deliberate masculine swagger if I wanted (and I often did while on stage playing with my band, and sauntering around the ballfield). But I had no idea that I might also have something of the feline grace that was so natural to him, and that I always associated with him. I fairly swelled with pride.

After we had set the carpet down and unrolled it where Allie specified - it was fucking gorgeous! - she said, "C'mere Mike, stand right here. And Mikey, you stand right behind him, back to back. And so we did, heel to heel, calf to calf, butt to butt, and shoulder to shoulder, while Alice looked on judgmentally. "Okay," she said, "it's clear that Mikey has you by an inch in height. And standing in front of me and holding out her arms as if to guide her vision, "and it looks as if maybe his shoulders are just a little bit broader, too. Now put your hands together." I turned toward Mike and held up my right hand, palm outward, and he turned around and lined up his palm to palm with mine. They were identical. Alice goes "Okay, pull off your shirts." 

I looked at Mike and said softly, "Uh, I don't think..."

He just looked at me and said quietly, "Just do it."

Now all the advantage lay to Mike. I knew I was a well-built big kid, possessed of the same genes that Mike had. But Mike's arms and forearms made mine look kind of, well, undeveloped, in comparison, and his chest was really big compared to mine, and his big thighs and highly developed calves were far more impressive than mine. With my schoolwork, three sports, my music and my band, dating and everything else, I didn't really have time to be a serious gym rat. I worked out regularly as part of my sports training, but it wasn't a six-day-a-week thing. I did start every day with a couple of hundred crunches, though, and my abs were just as defined as Mike's. (Actually, I was still growing and developing and putting on muscle mass, and eventually I too would have the development that Mike did. But not now, not at barely 18). 

Nor did I have the manly spread of body hair that Mike exhibited so luxuriously on his chest and on his abs and belly. While I had just as much sun-bleached golden hair on my arms and legs as he did, and a lot of thick dark blond hair on my lower belly, and a well-defined accumulation both above and below my navel, on my chest I had only the dense fine golden vellous hair that prefigures the development of mature "terminal" hair that I would eventually exhibit.

The reason I didn't want to take off my tee shirt was that standing back to back with my uncle, butt to butt, hairy calf to hairy calf, I had helplessly sprung a boner that was quite noticeably tenting out my little shorts. It had been somewhat concealed by the tee shirt, but now without it, it was all too evident, and this remarkable scrutiny of my body by Alice wasn't helping any.

"What's that, Mikey?" she mischievously asked. "You trying to get the message across that you're just as big a man as your uncle? Fat chance of that. Cocks the size of your uncle's don't show up every day, and I think I know."

"Don't be so sure about Mikey," Mike mildly observed.

In a capricious mood, and curious too, Alice just said, "Well, let's see about that," and she came over to me and, totally amazing me, just pulled my little shorts down to the floor, and my cock sprang free. It had been turgid, but now it grew absolutely steely in no time.

Alice said, "Hey, that looks pretty damn familiar. Mike, come over here." She pulled down Mike's shorts, and of course by now he too was totally rigid and erect. She said "Stand right here," arranging us face to face, and with her hands on Mike's shoulders, she manoeuvred him a little bit this way and that until we were lined up precisely opposite one another and less than ten inches apart. Using her little right hand, and a fair amount of pressure, she forced Mike's cock down to a position 90 degrees from his belly; and with her left hand, she did the same to me. Her touch was abso-fucking-lutely electric to me. "Mike move in another inch or so," she commanded. With that little bit more adjustment, his cock and mine were precisely side by side, touching their entire lengths, his cockhead nestled in my pubic hair and firmly against my groin, and, reciprocally, my cockhead was buried in his public hair and firmly against his skin. It was plain that the two cocks were as alike as two peas in a pod.

But though it was obvious that we had the exact same length, and shape too, Alice declared that she wasn't entirely certain about the girth. With a smile she said, "We'll just see. Come over here" indicating the old Persian carpet "and lay down." Grabbing my left hand in her right and Mike's right in her left, she tugged us over to the carpet and she knelt, rather recalling a geisha's posture, and pointed to a place just to her left for Mike, and to her right for me. We wound up exactly parallel and only eighteen inches apart, with Allie kneeling right between Mike's right knee and my left one. She said, "Okay, guys, lace your fingers together behind your heads," and she seized Mike's cock in her left hand and mine in her right, adjusting her grip so that her hands were both precisely symmetrically placed on our cocks, and she closed her eyes, and moved them around, testing and feeling the twin dicks. 

For Mike it may well have been business as usual, but for me it was incredibly unbearable! The very situation I found myself in, as absurd as it was, had already wound me up like an e-string on a too-sharp violin; I had felt almost close to some breaking point I did not understand. Then Alice's touch drove me almost crazy. I had felt that I was in grave danger of exploding in response to her very first touch when she was testing the gauge and diameter of my cock. However, I somehow overmastered the urgency I felt, and managed to will some measure of control into my almost bursting phallus. And Alice began to jack us slowly, ever so slowly. It was in-fucking-credible, but amazingly, I felt I was gaining some measure of control over my cock and my will. I looked over to Mike, and he was gazing at me. He extended his right arm to me, and in response I reached out to him, and grasped his hairy forearm it with my left hand, and he took hold of my own forearm with his right hand.

Alice, well-experienced along this line, wasn't merely going through the motions like a twenty-dollar whore. She was putting everything she had into it, working us now with wicked gentleness, now with great firmness, but always in synchrony.

Crazily, the main theme of "Mondo Cane" filtered into some corner of my consciousness, no matter how I tried to suppress it, but in any case, eventually I knew I was totally losing control - and I'm sure Allie knew it too - and she eased up momentarily. And then, slowly she resumed her magic. But the respite had not been enough, and I erupted like a little Vesuvius, jetting cum into the air, and it landed in part on her arm, in part on my belly, and a lot of it wound up on the beautiful Tabriz. My release proved to be the irresistible trigger for Mike, too, and he, too, spewed his load on Alice, his hairy chest, and the rug. I lay there, truly, profoundly mentally exhausted, with Allie's little hand on my thigh.

Satisfied, Alice smiled like an angel down at me, and said, "Okay, I stand corrected. Mikey, your cock is, in my expert judgment, just as big and just as fat and just as hard as Mike's. And," kissing my still sloppy cockhead, "almost as dear to me!" I couldn't have been more amazed than if Princess Di had materialized in the room and kissed my spunky cock.

She glanced over to Mike, who gave her a certain look, but he didn't say a word. "God, Honey, I'd LOVE to, but we just don't have the time. Already I'll be late for the caterer."

Though my world was still kind of spinning around me, we cleaned up as well as we could - actually it amounted to wiping up the cum with our tee-shirts (that's all we had in the new house); put on our shorts and now funky shirts and locked up the new place. While Alice had her errands, Mike and I had our own business to conduct. Mike kissed Allie deeply and, and before she jumped into her jeep, she gave me a little peck on the cheek too. 

Our first stop was at Mike's barbershop, since the wedding was now in only three days, and between now and then there were the rehearsal dinner and other stuff. It was close to 2 pm, when we walked in and we were the only patrons. We sat in two chairs, side by side, so that we could easily see each other in the mirrors that covered the side walls of the shop. Mike said we wanted shaves and haircuts. Getting shaved in the barbershop can be a senuous experience, with the hot towels, the hot lather, and the cool, clean feel of the straight razor, stropped and restropped repeatedly during the process of cleaning off the goatees that Mike and I had grown during our trip across America (as detailed in the series Cross-Country with My Uncle).

As the golden chin whiskers disappeared, our familiar strong jawlines reemerged, and our square chins reappeared. The mirrors showed Mike's image and mine, now seemingly more similar than I had ever recalled before. Satisfied with the results, Mike then looked around and pointed to a picture of a model with a hairstyle rather shorter than he had worn for years. He said to the barber, "Like that." He said to me, "I haven't cleared this with Alice, and it's going to be a pretty big surprise to her. What the hell!" The barber's clippers buzzed and Mike's medium-length, moderately curly medium blond locks began to accumulate on the floor around the chair.

At the spur of the moment I said to my barber, "Gimme that too." I was almost surprised when the words tumbled out of my mouth, because I had worn the same rather floppy hairstyle for several years, but I was getting sick of it, and anyway who needed all that hair working on a dude ranch anyway? (That would be my summer job to begin a few days after the wedding.) And my rather paler yellow hair began to fall to the floor also.

In only a few minutes the barbers' work was done. Mike's handsome curls had disappeared, as had my trademark light blond locks. The changes were pretty dramatic, but what we had not expected was that suddenly, with the shaves, and now the haircuts, we looked quite eerily alike. Not like identical twins of course, but like those kinds of brothers who look like they were produced with the same genetic cookie cutter. We both realized it at the same time. As for me, I was stunned, and the new likeness we shared somehow magnified my soul. I couldn't attribute that kind of feeling to Mike, but he did seem damn pleased, displaying a great big grin, and clapping me heartily on the back, saying "I can't wait until Allie - and our moms! - see us. They won't be able to believe it!"

We had another stop, the tailor's shop where we were fitted for our tuxes. With our athletic builds, a little bit out of the ordinary run of guys, there was a certain amount of adjustment necessary, especially for Mike with his still bigger chest and arms and thighs. But the thing about tuxes is that they are uniforms that are designed to minimize, as much as possible, the differences between guys' wildly varying physiques. When the tailors were finished and we stood side by side looking into the mirror, we again stunned by the new congruence between us. The fact that Mike had a bigger chest and arms and legs was minimized and (though I was an inch taller than he was) it was unbelievable at the changes the last two hours had wrought - the degree to which our looks had converged. Once again, my heart sang; and Mike seemed pleased. The tailors packaged up the monkey suits, and we were on our way, and soon back to Alice's house. 

Getting home, we quickly showered and put on the tuxes, and waited for Alice's arrival, which wasn't long in coming. 

"I'm ho-ome," she called out," and Mike walked into the living room. "Mike," she cried, brightening, "you look wonderful! You've always been the handsomest brute I've ever known, but you've never looked more beautiful than you do at this moment. I like the new haircut, good choice." And flinging her arms around Mike she reached up and kissed his face, the first time she'd seen him smooth since before he flew to Pennsylvania.

Mike gave a signal with his finger, and I walked in. Allie's eyes almost popped, her jaw literally dropped, for I was Mike's Doppelganger. "Oh, my god," she goes. "I can't believe it. It's like I have two of you, Mike. This is weird. It's wonderful," she added, "but weird." And she drew me into her embrace with Mike and kissed my face too. I felt like ten feet tall. I especially liked that she said "I have two of you," loving the notion that she thought she possessed me.

Mike and I quickly shifted into our tee shirts and shorts again, and the three of us working together in the kitchen put on some green beans and rice and assembled a salad to go with the skinless roasted chicken Allie had picked up, and soon back on the patio we were dining, as dusk gathered.

Despite all the remaining things that had to be done, between before the wedding, the out of town guests would soon be gathering, etc., our dinner was relaxed, and we shared general conversation.

I volunteered to clean up the dishes and as I was finishing, Mike came into the kitchen and spoke quietly to me.

"Mikey," he said. "Allie and I have talked, and here are the ground rules for tonight. You are invited into our bed, but you are not to speak unless absolutely necessary, and as our guest we will take care of you, but you are should consider very carefully before you touch either of us. If you are wise, you will play your hand very conservatively. Generally, you'll just be following my instructions, but for god's sake, see if you can read signals and gestures and impute intentions. I don't want to have spell anything out for you. Lest all this sounded too harsh and calculated, he leaned over to me and kissed my ear and repeated quietly, "We'll take care of you."

"We've decided to use the computer-controlled lighting again, it just seems to simplify what a situation that is intrinsically just a little bit awkward. But you get to pick the music tonight."

He led me to a laptop that was part of the house's local area network, and showed me the music directory. There must have been more than a thousand tunes there. After a few minutes of confusion, I just opened the list called "FuckMix 9," one of two dozen such files they had already put together. It had several favorite tunes of mine, and so I selected that. Mike said, "Fine," and pushed a few keys. He told me to go into the already darkened bedroom and take off my clothes and wait on the bed.

I threw off my clothes and crawled onto the big kingsized bed, and never I think in my life with so much anticipation and excitement. My cock was of course rockhard. The soft Egyptian cotton sheet caressed my body, but I was in such a heightened state of sensitivity that instead of soothing me, it was as if I felt every thread of the 450-count weave separately and individually as I moved ever so slightly over the expanse, for the time being alone. Absurd, I know.




Alice, My Uncle, & Me Ch. 02



Soon the impossibly mellow strains of David Sanborn's alto sax begin floating from somewhere. "Try a Little Tenderness." But of course I was unsoothable.

The sound of the bathroom door opening in the dark, and then a little padding of feet, and from the air I sensed the delicate but unmistakable scent of Alice. The bed shook but only slightly, but it was certain that she was lying parallel to me, only a couple of feet away. Unable to help myself I trembled, but did not move a muscle. And then in the darkness I sensed slightly the musky scent of my young uncle, just as I heard somewhat heavier footfalls, and from the foot of the bed more activity, as he crawled in between us, the hair of his forearm brushing casually along my hip as he made his way up the bed, and then his hairy calf was slightly, but sensibly, adjacent to mine, and I heard the unmistakable sounds of tiny kisses.

And now it was Otis Redding, "These Arms of Mine," in the air, and from the former utter darkness I began slowly to discern the form of my uncle across the bed, surtopped by what was surely the form of Alice, enfolded in his arms. As the light grew stronger, I saw that they were locked in a deep kiss, and that she had her two hands on his face, his big arms tenderly wrapped around her back; and her legs, each of them, were extended down his; and barely visible, between backs of her soft thighs was Mike's cockhead, his cock being nestled right in her very crotch, grasped by her pussy and her two thighs. She was moving her hips very, very slightly, as I sat up and moved toward the bottom of the bed to enhance my viewing. The scent of sex pervaded the room overwhelmingly. I certainly was generating it myself, that I knew, but all I could smell was the rich scent of Alice, and, secondarily, my uncle's musk.

With me at the foot of the bed, there was plenty of room for my uncle to roll the two of them over, so that Alice was on her back, with her arms now widespread, and I quickly shifted back to the right of the bed and crept back up toward the head. Mike crouched over her, with his right knee between her legs, and she snuggled her pussy right onto his firm, hairy lower thigh, just above the knee, and began slowly, almost subtly, rubbing herself up and down along it. It evidently only took a travel of two inches or so to yield her deep satisfaction. Mike's other knee was on her right, and as he bent over her, supporting his upper body with his left elbow between her body and her right arm. His magnificent cock was hovering a few inches above her middle. The smell of her moistness nearly drove me fucking crazy.

From this perspective I had by far the best view I had yet had of Allie's amazing breasts. They were as firm and shapely as those of Botticelli's Venus; but they were proportionately larger and riper. They were complete perfection! Youthful and firm, and also lush. I had dated some of the best-looking girls in my high school, some of them really big-chested, but none of them nearly approached the perfection of balance between ripeness and luxury on the one hand and firmness and shapeliness on the other. In the gathering light Mike made a simple sign to me, hardly more than the crook of a finger, I drew near to her left side, supporting myself somewhat awkwardly on my all fours.

Mike leaned down and, with his first kiss on her right breast, Allie yielded up a deep, satisfied sigh. But then while Mike was gently kissing her right breast, I leaned down and took the nipple of her left breast between my tender lips, and Alice's body suddenly gave a profound shudder, as though a current of electricity had run through her, and from her lips came a very deep sigh, and I heard, faintly, her say, "Oh! Oh my god." As I continued tenderly kissing and licking and sucking, suddenly I felt the gentle touch of her left hand on the crown of my head, and then, so gently I did was not sure it had happened, a tiny touch on my right ear, and then again a tiny hand in what remained of my hair. I could tell that her own motion of her pussy along Mike's knee was slow, steady and continuing, and Mike and I grew well into our work. I tried to restrain myself, but inevitably my kisses grew moister and moister, almost to the verge of sloppiness. Alice's tiny cries were less tiny now, "Oh, OH, OH!!" and her work against Mike's knee far more vigorous, until at last in a crescendo of activity, she suddenly ceased motion, grew stiff, and it seemed as if wave after wave of pleasure was propagating over her.

Mike ceased his kisses, and with a preemptory elbow, I was pushed away from her breast, and I meekly retreated to the side of the bed, and Mike placed his left hand right where I had been crouching. Simultaneously, he moved left his knee also between Alice's legs, which she now spread widely. Flexing his great abs, he introduced the head of his cock into her vulva, but he did not send home his shaft. I moved quickly to a station at the foot of the bed, right behind Mike's butt, and between her widely parted legs, but I was touching nothing. I was remarkably close to their partial union, my face just inches away, and the scent was truly overwhelming. I watched in fascination as my uncle used just the head of his cock to massage and stroke the top end of her vulva, the spot where her clitoris nestled. Without ever entering her vagina, but expertly flexing his lower trunk muscles, with his big cockhead he teased her bud, and stroked the site of her most precious delights. Meanwhile, he was kissing her about the neck and ears, thrilling her; and she worked the fingers of both hands into his chest hair. 

She couldn't last much longer under Mike's loving attack on her clitoris, especially since she had started already from a very heightened state of readiness, and with three last penile caresses on her nubbin, it seemed to me that she nearly had a seizure of some sort. I could see her trunk muscles contract in waves, and her legs clearly trembled, and it was hopeless for her to suppress or minimize her cries, and over Willie Nelson's soft and slow "Stardust," I heard "Yes, YES, *Y*E*S*!!!! God, I love you, Mike. God, I love you! I love you, I LOVE YOU!" And she threw her arms around his big chest and pulled herself off the bed and up to him and drilled her tongue deep into his mouth, before collapsing again onto the bed, tapped, exhausted, done.

But Mike was not done. It seemed he'd hardly begun. Using his powerful and flexible trunk muscles he raised his hips and then slowly introduced the head of his great cock into vestibule of her vagina, parting her labia minora slightly, and filling that space gently, and causing a new thrill to propagate up and down the length of her legs. That's all he did, and she was thrilling, helplessly. Then, with practiced deliberation, he pushed into her vagina proper with just the head of his cock. Already she teetered on the precipice of another full orgasm, and aided by the slickiness that Alice was producing, slowly he penetrated another inch; and then withdrew and held his cock almost entirely outside her body, so that the big, defined firm-edged rim of his cockhead teased the outer inch of her vagina. This favorite trick he worked until she could stand it no more and begged him, pleaded for him to penetrate her completely. But again, he did it with great deliberation until his cock was entirely within her for the first time tonight, its end pressing against her cervix deep within her, and its fat length filling her and paradoxically both satisfying her and causing her to lust for more, more, more. 

Now Mike displayed his coxmanship to the maximum, using now long, full, hard strokes in series; cocking his hips just so to make sure that every millimeter of its hard, veiny length caressed her clitoris with every stroke; and then alternating with more teasing, shorter strokes. With each full stroke, his big fat balls were drawn up to her pussy, further stimulating both Alice and Mike; and GOD KNOWS, me!

I was now crouched between Mike's wide-spread legs (which were in turn between Alice's still more wide-spread legs). There was barely room for me, but I turned my shoulders so that I could just fit, though I brushed his hairy upper thighs on both sides. I drew my head closer and closer to their union, and Mike could sense exactly where I was. He could, I'm sure feel my breath upon his balls, and he penetrated Alice deeply and held his position, and I heard him mutter softly, "It's ok, guy." And I took that as permission to lick his wonderful balls. Craning my neck, I found that I was able to lick them easily, now completely perfumed with Alice's wonderful moisture. And when Mike begin to move again, his movements were subtle and predictable, and extending my tongue to the maximum, I found that his balls traveled across my tongue with each of his smaller strokes.

Then he shifted somewhat, and to my surprise, withdrew completely, and somehow he raised the front of his body so that his cock rode free and clear of Alice's lower belly. Again I heard his voice low and gutteral, "It's ok, man." And with that, I extended my tongue and lapped at Alice's sweet pussy, opened wide. She gave a deep, throaty "Yes! YES! *Y*E*S*!" and moaned. 

Though the space available was limited, there was just enough room for me to lap and kiss her wonderful cunny. It was the first time in well over a week that she had had a genital kiss, since Mike had been gone a full week and when he came home he was bristling with the new goatee, and he had not wished to abrade her in the slightest in her tenderest place. Now, of course, I was cleanly shaven.

Even as I was anxiously, lovingly kissing and lapping and sucking Alice's dear cunny, I reached up and with my right hand stroked Mike's balls, a very few inches above me.

In another moment or two, I heard Mike's voice say, "Later." That's it, but it was clear what he meant, and I pulled away from their groins somewhat, and Mike reintroduced his powerful cock, with even more deliberation than ever. Again, Alice sighed and moaned, "Mike, MIKE, MIKE!!!"

Now, at last, while Elvis Costello starting "Almost Blue," he began a stately, controlled, full-stroke fucking. It was wonderful to see his strong, hairy butt flexing with every stroke, and I felt honored to be able to witness the majestic beauty of his cock entering and withdrawing dear Alice's body with such relentlessness. Alice's breath was growing shorter and shorter again, and then she took a mighty gasp and once again shuddered helplessly, and no more than ten seconds later, once again, and under Mike's merciless reaming, still yet again. She begged him to relent, and he grew still, but entirely within her. Presently though, she began to wiggle her pussy a little to left and right, and cocking her hips, waggle it a little up and down his shaft -- no more than an inch of travel, really -- and that was a signal for him to resume.

Which he did with a vengeance, for he was now very close to his limit of toleration. With another set of hard, almost brutal strokes, she again collapsed into another small fit, and, above her, Mike stiffened noticeably, and, close as I was, I could see tiny but unmistakable evidences of one penile spasm after another, and I knew he was pumping his seed deep into her.

He remained motionless for a moment longer, while he one more time deeply fucked her mouth with his tongue, and then finally licked and kissed her neck and ears and eyelids; and finally he sort of rolled and sort of sprang aside, and lay to Allie's right, his chest heaving somewhat, but not as much as hers, for she had been well and truly fucked.

Rather casually, Mike glanced down to me, still between Allie's legs, and signed to me, with hardly more than a wave of single finger and a pleasant smile. Finally free to move easily, I knelt on my knees right between Allie's legs, and supporting myself also with my hands on either side of her slim waist, I resumed as delicately as I could, my genital kisses. Allie's pussy was now truly sopping, overpoweringly rich with her scent and with the intensely male odor of Mike. Alice reacted again with a kind of shock to my first tiny touch with my tongue, going "OOOOOH." But then she settled down and relaxed a bit, and placed both of her little hands on my head, as I progressed from the tiniest kisses and lingual probes to larger and larger motions as I lapped up the heady combination of her scented quim and Mike's rich cum. She moaned "Mikey, Mikey, Mikey," again and again and again, and stroked my hair and my ears. I was emotionally totally overwhelmed. All I could think of, cycling again and again and again in the first chamber of my mind was "Oh, how I love Mike! And God, how very much I love Allie! If there is a heaven, I am in it this very moment! Oh, how I love Mike! And God, how very much I love Allie!"

Finally I had cleaned and tidied her pussy as well as it was going to be tonight, and I turned my attention from her labia and vestibula to her secret little nubbin. There I thought I knew I was on familiar turf where I knew exactly what to do with my tongue and lips, and I was correct. From a state of semi-relaxation, I roused her to another pitch of fever, and calling my name again and again, she still yet once more fell into sensual overload, and stiffened and thrilled and finally swooned, or something near to it. Her chest heaving more than ever before I think, she was truly exhausted, hardly capable of anything further.

During all this my uncle had rolled over to watch, and eventually raised himself up on one elbow to get a better view. As I had worked, it was only a matter of a glance to my left to see that his great penis was showing unmistakable signs of new and not to be denied life. It was in fact, soon as big and strong as ever, and he leaned over to kiss Alice again, and she said, "Oh, Mike. I just couldn't. Not now. I think I'm just totally fatigued." But then very sweetly she reached over and gently stroked him on the forearm and said, "Do Mikey. I'm sure he'd love it. And I can help a little."

Mike told me to lie down on my back, alongside Alice, who shifted somewhat so that she could raise herself up on one elbow and lean over and kiss my face, and with her other arm caress my neck, my chest, and my belly.

In a humorous aside, during this interlude FuckMix9 was spinning out the plangeant and slightly off-key "More than Words," by Extreme. Evidently it was a little joke between Alice and Mike that such a charmingly naïve and goofy song could be sandwiched between so much truly sublime music. Hell, I liked it too, but I had to imagine the smiles that the song must be putting on Alice and Mike's faces.

Mike took a position between my long, hairy legs, and kindly stroking them gently, raised them up onto his big shoulders, and turning his head to his left, kissed my right calf in a dozen places; and then turning to his right, tenderly kissed my left again and again. I was near emotional overload.

Alice had passed him the container of lubricant and, shifting under my legs a bit, leaned down and gently tongued my anus, and gently kissed it, and then applied a generous gob of lube on it; and then grasped my iron-like penis and kissed it all over, and gently patted my balls. Rising back to his knees, he slathered lube onto his own cock from tip to root, and then pressed in just the very tip of his cockhead, as he had done back in Galena for the first time.

Meanwhile, Alice was continuing to kiss me about the eyes, the nose, the mouth, the chin, the neck. For someone who undoubtedly was truly fatigued, she was really making an effort. And yet I didn't think it was merely a good-faith effort. I could not help myself from thinking that she loved me, really loved me. That's certainly what she whispered in my ear!

And with her free hand, she stroked my chest, my abs, and played with the hair that grew thickly above and below my navel. And just above my navel stood throbbing my cockhead, easily in reach of her gentle touches. Extending her arm, should could just reach the base of my cock as well, but it was a stretch for her. She was not really well situated to give me a quality jacking, but that was alright: She'd already done that once today to my intense amazement and unmitigated joy!

Mike moved on from playing with my sphincter with the corona of his glans and settled down to some serious butt-fucking, the way only he could. It was again a joy to be united with him. The very thought of it alone was enough almost to cause me to cum. Holding my big thighs in his palms he graciously massaged them as he worked. When Alice pulled away for a moment from the long series of gentle kisses she was placing all over my head and face, Mike smiled down at me, and grinned over to Alice, and continued his work, now with more finesse, more art, so that I felt every nuance of his union with me.

Presently I felt him establishing what was almost certainly his terminal rhythm and prepared for the culmination, which was not long coming. I felt within me the repeated spasms that signified his deposition, deep within me, of the ultimate essence of his unique personhood.

Now the lights dimmed, and but I knew the music had several more tracks to go, since Chris Isaak was still singing.

Mike slowly and tenderly lowered my legs to the bed, stroking their entire lengths with his hands.

Alice shifted away, and Mike lay beside on the right, and said, "C'mere little buddy." He directed me to lay between them so that my feet were toward their heads. Alice, facing to the right, gently placed my left calf against her face and softly kissed it, and stroked it. My uncle told me to throw my right leg across his big, hirsuite chest, and reaching between my now widely splayed legs with his right hand, he found my raging cock. Pouring more lube into his right hand, he began the most sensuous, gentle, but firm, masturbation I had ever endured. Earlier tonight he said, "We'll take care of you," and he redeemed his promise in spades, with a jacking that must have lasted twenty minutes. In my condition that was only possible using the most knowing arts and carefully, to balance urgency and restraint. It was nothing calculated, like my wicked four-dozen strokes back in the Nevada hotel (see chapter 13 of Cross-country with my Uncle), instead it was inventive, interactive, so he took account of my condition in effect in little feedback loops. Finally, with the fading of the last strains of the last tune, Tuck and Patti's version of "My Romance," my uncle brought me to ultimate release, in thrill after thrill and one spasm after another. No man ever, I felt sure, had ever been so happy, so suffused with pure and unalloyed joy.

And so ended my second night of five with my uncle and Alice.



Alice, My Uncle, & Me Ch. 03a



This continues the account of the third of five days and nights that studly 18-year old Mikey spends together with Mike, the 24-year old uncle he idolizes, and Mike's fascinating and beautiful 22-year old fiancée Alice. The beginning of their story is told in "Cross-Country with My Uncle," and continued by "Alice, My Uncle, and Me," day 1 and day 2.

I woke up in a pool of bright morning sunshine in Alice's bed. We must all three have slept deeply, since we awoke in nearly the same arrangement as when we drifted off last night. I was lying between my uncle and Allie, tete-beche, my head at their feet. My left leg was still stretched across my young uncle's big chest, and Allie, on her side, facing me, was nuzzling my right calf. She was actually sort of hugging my entire right leg, with her left leg thrown across my right, her knee impinging slightly on my crotch. Certainly that was one of the reasons why I had a major hard-on. But worse -- if by "worse" I mean "better," "infinitely better" -- my furry right calf was nestled between her breasts. Because her left arm was folded over them, I could not really see her breasts, but could I ever feel them! their softness, their warmth. And the nipple of her right breast parted the hair just above my right ankle.

I looked down at Alice, still in repose, a vision of California beauty. I took the opportunity to study her features in the bright light. Her little round chin, with just a hint of a dimple; her perfect nose, her delicate eyebrows, like her golden eyelashes, glistering in the sunshine like spun gold.

My attention was drawn again and again to her refined mouth. Though she never seemed to wear makeup, her lips always seemed to be strikingly beautiful. Perhaps it was some trick of contrast between her lips and her perpetual mild tan, her brilliantly white teeth, and her rather short blonde hair. Only a great beauty like her really looked wonderful and complete in such a simple, almost boyish cut. And she always liked the "wash and go" convenience of a short and simple style. Her chin and jaw line were well defined, but soft, and her neck was, well, aristocratic. Somehow it suggested Nefertiti, Queen of old Egypt.

While I studied her mouth and her throat, despite myself I kept coming back to yesterday, when she, a remarkably compact young woman, fellated my young uncle, and in fact deep-throated him, before my very eyes. Considering the size of his phallus, it had been a really remarkable performance. And I have to confess that ever since that moment I had been somewhat obsessed by her lips, unable to cease visualizing what she had done, unable to stop projecting what she might still yet do with **my** penis, so very nearly like my uncle's! But I could only dream. Rather than taking a casual pleasure in a reverie of this sort, it made me restless and uncomfortable and anxious, for now that I had spent the night in their bed, it wasn't just a dream, it had taken the shape of an actual hope, an aspiration. But it was something about which I could do nothing.

These reflections also contributed to my complete and perfect erection, as did the memory of last night, my first in Mike and Alice's bed. Looking down toward my big, hard dick -- it never failed to gratify me unbelievably just to see it, whether hard as a rock, or comfortably flaccid -- I saw my prolific belly hair, part of it still pasted to my lower abs with my own dried cum, the result of my uncle's sublime handwork of last night. And slightly to my left, I saw his big cock, now as firm and erect as mine, and his big, shapely balls. What might he be dreaming of, right now?

As I gazed, Alice began to stir. Though she was mostly curled around my right leg, her left arm was thrown entirely over it, and her hand rested on my Uncle Mike's right pec, the tips of her fingers lost to view in his luxuriant dark blond chest hair. She opened her eyes, yawned, and even stretched, almost in the manner of a cat, maybe, or a cartoon character. It was charming, and it caused her left breast to travel a little along my calf as it came into view. She looked down at me, and at what was springing from my lower belly -- and virtually tangent to her knee; and then over to Mike's face and down his body to his midparts, where his cock, the virtual twin to mine, stood. She shook him a little, rising up onto her right elbow and leaning over to his face and kissing his cheek and then his lips, she spoke quietly and smilingly to him, "Wake up, wake up. A wonderful new day has begun!" In the process, alas, she pulled her breasts away from my leg, to my infinite regret; but the saving grace was that they both swam into my view, luscious and full.

I wondered whether she was always so charming and sweet, and whether her manner might eventually cloy. To these questions I quickly decided (1) Yes; and (2) No.

I was as smitten as ever I had been before.

Mike responded to her quiet kisses with a gigantic smile, even before he opened his eyes, though they too were smiling even before opened them. Her face was still only an inch from his and he reached his right arm behind her head and pulled her mouth to his and gave her a passionate kiss. Oddly, I felt that I was part of this, since when he reached over to pull her mouth to his, he necessarily pulled my left foot against his right cheek, since it was still lying across his chest and extending a little over his right shoulder. He released her head and rubbed his right hand up and down my calf in the most friendly fashion.

When they broke, Mike looked down at me and went, "Mornin', Sport. Whazzup?" And looking at each other's rigid cocks, we shared a chuckle. (Okay, I hate to admit it, but it was really a smirk followed by a giggle.)

Allie fell back onto her side, and smiled too, and again she was wholly gilded by the morning sun, an object of incredible beauty. I said, "Mike, there's something I want."

It was a highly exceptional situation. Despite our great intimacy for eighteen years, never to my knowledge had he ever refused me any request. The reason for this was that I virtually never, ever made any request of him. He always seemed to be able to gratify me completely no matter what he did, and almost never, ever did I feel the need to ask him for anything. But if I did ask, on those rare occasions, he never failed to oblige me. This time seemed different, though. He and Allie had asked me into their bedroom, first; and now into their bed, without, of course, any hint of a solicitation from me.

As delightful as were my circumstances, with my right leg across Mike's chest, and with Allie still tangent to my left leg in three different places, I pulled away and got off the bed and knelt on the carpet near my uncle's ear. "Uncle," I said almost in a whisper, "I want to give Allie a tongue bath." He tousled my hair and grinned and said, "Sure, Mikey. So do I." He rolled over toward Alice, and smilingly murmured into her ear, and with a twinkle in her eye, she gave a subtle nod to him.

Mike said, "Mikey, just follow my lead." He murmured to Allie, and as he moved toward the foot, she arranged herself in the middle of the king-sized bed, and Mike patted the bed near the foot on the right side. I crawled up there, and as he took her right foot in his hands, and began to kiss her toes, one by one, I took her left foot.

Now there is something you need to know about Allie. It's true that she seemed to be almost careless of her toilette, with her almost boyish hairstyle, her simple 'sport' manicure, her casual dress. But in reality, she was extremely fastidious. A case in point was her feet. As a Stanford student, she very rarely wore hosiery, but rather almost always pure cotton socks, often the tiny low-cut design that hardly showed above her footwear. When she could not avoid wearing hose, she always wore tiny cotton footies inside her hose, and she always avoided open-toed styles and sandals. On the rare occasions in which she wore sandals or open-toed shoes she wore them only with finest denier cotton hosiery, imported from France. They had a gossamer look, though they were not as transparent as nylon or silk, but neither were they hard and harsh on her feet as silk or nylon would have been. And whenever she had been on the beach or had been in something other than thick cotton, as soon as she could she applied special softening lotions and emollients to her feet and put on clean thick socks again. The result was that her feet were absolutely as soft and refined as her hands or even her butt. It was a very rare woman anywhere who could boast feet of such elegance, and they were especially unexpected in such an athletic and outdoorsy woman as Alice.

Her feet were remarkably erotic. Mike of course had known this for years, but I had hardly dreamed that such feet existed, much less that Alice possessed them. Like Mike, I began slowly to kiss her feet. Her feet were exquisitely perfumed. Last night after her bath no doubt she had applied some creamy lotion that still lent her feet a faint but unmistakable air of attar of rose and jasmine. I kissed the top of her foot all over, and then leaned down to kiss the sole. Instead of horniness, or even just firmness, I found softness and delicacy. When I kissed her instep, she began to coo softly. I noticed that Mike too, was kissing the instep of her right foot. And then Mike began kissing and sucking her toes, one at a time, and I followed suit on her left foot. My cock grew harder than ever; but what I was amazed at was Alice's reaction. As we continued, slowly and luxuriously, her breathing became slower and deeper, and then after an interval, it suddenly came in short, sharp gasps. In the bright sunlight I saw that the tiny golden hairs on her forearm were each of them erect. From her cunny, necessarily widely spread since Mike was holding one foot and I her other, came a richer, complex odor of musk and sex that soon overwhelmed the floral notes of Alice's toes and feet. As Mike stroked her right ankle and I her left, and we continued to kiss and suck and tongue her toes, she shuddered and stiffened and exhaled deeply, and choked a small cry. There was only a matter of a moment of respite before another wave of tension, this time accompanied by a surprisingly deep and throaty, "Oh my god. I love you, I love you both."

Following Mike's lead, I got on my all fours over Allie's lower left leg and began a systematic lapping with my tongue, starting right with her ankle. Slowly, slowly in tandem we lapped upward, up her shins. Her skin was firm, tanned, and absolutely smooth, not the tiniest prickle anywhere. Allie's breath remained slow, deep, and steady, and she moaned softly as we slowly, slowly ascended toward her knees, and then beyond.

We lapped and kissed, upward, upward, slowly, slowly, up her thighs, and seemingly inevitably toward her dear cunny, as though drawn by her fragrance. But to my surprise, and I must say dismay, at mid-thigh, Mike touched me lightly on the shoulder, and he moved off her leg, dragging his balls down the length of her shin. He rearranged himself on her right side, and began kissing her fingers and palms. Following his lead, I too dragged my balls down her left shin, and moving to her left side, took her little finger between my lips. And then her ring finger, and then by turns the others; then I kissed and licked the back of her hand, and then her palm, and then her wrist. I wondered how her hand could be so soft and mild, and yet so strong and supple, since she was a tennis and racquetball player, a cyclist, even sometimes, rock climber. And then I arrived at her inner forearm, and when I got to the inside of her elbow, she thrilled a bit. The back of her forearm was covered with the tiny golden yellow hairs, ever so fine and soft, capturing the sun in infinitely small fragments.

Mike and I kissed and licked and lapped her firm and shapely upper arms simultaneously, and together we arrived at her armpits, he on her right, I on her left. They were exceptionally smooth, and aromatic. Hers was a refined and fresh many-layered complex odor, and with our kisses Mike and I lapped up her dew, such that its headiness persisted on our lips and faces. Allie began to breathe more slowly and raggedly.

From there it was but a couple of laps until we came to her remarkable breasts, so lush, so shapely. Mike and I simultaneously arrived at her nipples, which had been totally erect since the first moment we began on her insteps, and she gasped when we took them between our lips. Ever so lightly she placed her hands on our heads, and as we kissed and licked her breasts, and caressed them with our hands, Alice moaned; and then her breath came more and more in gasps, soon she shuddered and then sighed hugely "EHHHHHH, Ohhhhhhh, OHHHHHH. Guys, you're?? OOOOH?.. WON der ful, won . der . fuhlllllll. Ohhhh."

Mike and I paused for about thirty seconds while Alice breathed deeply and slowly again. And then slowly we returned to our hugely pleasing labors, and it was only a matter of a long moment before Alice again tensed and thrilled: "Aaaaah, aaaah, oh NO! Oh Yeaaaahssss! This time, our pause was slight: In fact we did not remove our lips from her nipples, but only paused briefly. And then on our resumption it was only a matter of seconds before she came still yet again, this time her whole trunk tensing and relaxing quite notably, and again she gasped.

Meanwhile, her sexual odors were washing over Mike and me, and we were being driven mad. But with her arm Allie made a vague feint toward her crotch and Mike knew she was way more than ready for him. If she had been a mare, she would have been winking.


So Mike gently nudged me aside, and I moved silently to the foot of the bed, where at least I had an excellent view of the proceedings.

Supporting himself on his right hand planted on the bed beside her breast, he swung his large body over her slight one, and placed his right knee just inside her left one, and as she parted her legs very widely, his left knee just inside her right one. Without the slightest ceremony he flexed his abs and cocked his hips and with one fluid movement inserted his big thick, eight-inch cock right into her very wet pussy, right up to the hilt, his big testicles hanging over her perineum. What happened next completely amazed me. It was, well, it seemed like nothing at all; but in reality it was a very great deal. Mike, suspending himself over her body, kissed her lips, her nose, her eyelids, her chin, but otherwise he did not move a muscle, remaining essentially immobile. But very soon he began to moan, "Oh, Allie, oh Allie, oh Allie, my god, don't stop, don't stop!" 

What was happening was that Allie was using her practiced and highly toned vaginal muscles rhythmically to clamp Mike's great phallus, and then unclamp, and then repeat again and again and again, maddening Mike with pleasure. She had developed this skill to a high degree (he later told me), and it seemed to him that she could actually propagate waves of pressure and pleasure over his phallus from tip to root. Often enough in the past they had come to mutual consummation in exactly this fashion, without Mike's moving at all.

But this time at a certain point Mike gasped "Allie, stop! Stop, RIGHT NOW!"

Evidently she did, but Mike still didn't move. Clearly he was trying to edge himself away from the precipice. But Mike didn't pull out. Instead, after a minute or two, he muttered quietly to Alice, "Okay now," and he swooped his right arm under her back and gracefully they rolled over so that Mike was now on his back and Alice, still impaled by his big cock, seemed a small and delicate figure balanced on his beautiful body.

And then Mike said, quite evidently to me, "Go to it, guy."

So I positioned myself between their legs (for Mike's big hairy legs were widely splayed and Allie's smooth and lithe ones lay right upon them), and I resumed the hugely satisfying tongue bath with Allie's left heel, and then her ankle. With a million kisses and a thousand tongue laps, I moved slowly up to Allie's leg, to her murmuring and sighs, straddling both their legs (Mike's right and Allie's left). When I got to the inside of her knee, she giggled again and again. I moved on to her silky thighs, and her sighs and murmurs became moans of pleasure. When I got to several inches above her mid-thigh, I repositioned myself and started anew with Alice's right heel. Slowly, slowly I moved up her right leg. While my kisses were on Alice's firm, beautiful calves, my hands were in constant contact with Mike's big furry legs, just below, and supporting Alice's. I loved them both so much.

I worked my way to very near the top of Alice's right thigh, and then, dragging my balls down the entire length of her leg, crept off the bottom of the bed, and again repositioned myself, now by Alice's left shoulder. And I licked and kissed my way across from her left upper arm right across her shoulder? and the luscious nape of her neck right into her hair? and clear over to her left shoulder, my cock caressing her satiny shoulders as I bent to my work. She muttered, "Oh, Mikey, Mikey, Mikey."

During my worship of Alice's legs, Mike and Alice had been more or less quiescent, with Alice intermittently and lightly and slightly kissing Mike's chin, neck, and ears; but at the point of their carnal union, there was little evidence of activity. As I began my delicious transit across her shoulders, however, I noticed the beginnings of slight and subtle, well-coordinated undulations in their bodies.

Once again I repositioned myself between their legs, and I began the sweet, sweet duty of laving Alice's precious round butt. Something I was doing was causing her to break out in gooseflesh. All over her butt the teeny-tiny itsy-bitsy golden hairs? which would be entirely invisible were it not for the tiny little skin muscles bunching at their roots? were erected. The texture was just wonderful on my tongue. "Oh, Mikey, Mikey," crooned Alice.

But by now as I moved more and more to the lower portions of Allie's butt, the once subtle undulations of the practiced lovers became more and more obvious, but slow and very deliberate. As I approached their actual union, by flattening my body as much as I could on the sheet between their legs, I could extend my head right into the vee made by their joined crotches, and I was able to extend the tip of my tongue right into the point of union. As Allie raised her cunt slowly a couple of inches up Mike's shaft, there was left there a very notable and aromatic sheen of her cunt's dew, which I eagerly lapped right off during the intervals of access.

Mike gently said, "Okay, now," and I withdrew from them as once again they reversed, so that Alice once more was on her back, and Mike supported his big body over her.

And then Mike began fucking her very artfully, with very long, slow strokes, his strong hairy butt muscles flexing quite beautifully with every stroke; and I returned to my station between their legs, and once again approached their union. Mike obligingly paused at the highest point of every slow, deliberate stroke, to give me an opportunity to lick his phallus, wet with Alice's quim. And when he paused buried deep within her, I could briefly kiss his balls, the left on one stroke, and the right on the next.

We kept up this amusing game for a good dozen strokes or more, before Mike muttered "Move it, man," and I retired from the action, though I remained in position to watch the extended final stages of their beautiful coition. Alice's wetness was quite amazing, and Mike's deliberation awesome, as he made sure that every stroke gave full value to Alice's clitoris.

Then the stroking came to be faster and harder and harder still, with some slight but definite screw like motions added to the very last portion of each stroke as my uncle sent it home.




Alice, My Uncle, & Me Ch. 03a



Once again, Alice called out in pleasure, "Mike (gasp) , Mike (gasp) , Oh my god (gasp), You're wonderful (gasp), I love you, I love you, I love you." And Mike grunted "Ummmph, Aaaaaahhhh, Oh, Darlin', Oh, Allie, My angel!" as he pumped her full of his seed, with one convulsion after another.

I drew closer to their union as Mike slowly, slowly withdrew, and as he did I licked from his phallus the heady mixture of cum and quim, and he elegantly lifted himself off Allie and lay beside her, though putting his left hand under her head, and placing his left calf over her right. Mike smiled and nodded to me, and I finally, finally, began the very last part of the tongue bath, starting with the very uppermost parts of her thighs and then began work on her very cunt itself. The beautiful golden curls were now matted with moisture.

Some might think that lapping and licking and kissing her dear cunt would be a sloppy task; but they weren't there. The rich mixture of Mike's cum and Alice's heavily perfumed quim, was like the ichor of the gods, served up in a living, warm calyx of dear Allie's flesh. My mouth, my chin, my nose and eventually most of my face became coated with their conjoined love fluids.

As I worked with such a will, and with such pleasure, giving extra-special attention to her clitoris as well as to the silky wet folds of her vulva, I supported my upper body on my hands on either side of Alice's hips, and my lower body was almost at rest on the bed between Alice's legs, my cock virtually about to explode as it rubbed on the soft sheet.

Under my irresistible but ever tender ministrations Alice gasped and convulsed again and again, and again and again, and finally she gasped, "Mikey, no more; I can't take it any more; I just can't, you angel boy, you angel, angel boy."

Obedient to her wishes, I simply lay my right cheek lightly upon her cunt, briefly wondering if this were just a dream, and after a long moment I felt something pressing onto my right flank, and then my left. It was Alice's dear, soft feet, and they were insistently pressing, inquiring. I lifted my upper body on my arms slightly, so that I was supporting myself just off the bed with my knees and my arms. Instantly, working its way under my mid-section, Allie's right foot found my cock, and within a second, from the other side, her left foot had too. With her thighs wide spread, and her knees flexed, she had managed to capture my cock between the soles of her feet, the soft, perfumed soles that had so amazed me more than an hour ago when first I kissed them.

As I raised my trunk slightly more off the bed, gently but quite firmly she grasped my phallus between her soles, and by turns slightly flexing and extending her legs, she was relentlessly stroking me with her feet. It's true that I had been hugely erect for an hour as I was overwhelmed with more and more stimulation, almost more than I could bear, and I was virtually on the edge of coming. And now with Alice's impossibly erotic feet on my cock, it took only a dozen such strokes before I could take no more and it was clear from my breathing that I was inevitably going to come, and very soon.

Even in repose at Allie's right side, Mike had been very attentive to this remarkable action, and to my perilous state. Quite surprisingly briskly he got onto his hands and knees, came to me, and took charge of my body, and manhandled me over onto my back, and then he grasped my phallus. After only three or four very masterful strokes, I exploded in his fist, sending jet after jet of cum onto my body as he milked me. I collapsed there in the bed beside Alice, and Mike lay back alongside her, and none of us even moved for minute after long minute.

To be continued.



Alice, My Uncle, & Me Ch. 03b



This continues the account of the third of five days and nights that studly 18 year old Mikey spends together with Mike, the 24-year old uncle he idolizes, and Mike's fascinating and beautiful 22-year old fiancée Alice. The beginning of their story is told in "Cross-Country with My Uncle," and continued by "Alice, My Uncle, and Me," day 1 and day 2.

The only way that Mike, as a key employee, could get away from work for more than two weeks was that he agree to monitor his email and to call in as often as he could. So while he took a while to log in and deal with his mail, Allie and I went for a bike ride. I took Mike's bike, and of course it fit me perfectly. There was a very pleasant bike route that went through some woodlands and along Los Trancos Creek. It was great to get out, and especially with Allie. She was a highly competent cyclist and took the hills with grace and ease. It was easy to maintain a conversation, riding abreast.

"Mikey," she said, "I think I know, but I want to hear it from you. What's wrong?" 

She was an unusually astute observer, and she had detected that I was a more than a little uneasy. 

"Uh, Allie, it's sort of hard to talk about..."

"Try me, Kiddo."

"Well, to be frank, in a few hours something is going to happen that I sort of dread -- even fear a little bit. About 2 pm Mike and I will be picking up Jeff at the airport, prior to tonight's bachelor party."

"Yeah, I thought that's what it was. But Mikey, don't worry. I promise you everything is going to come out just fine. I know Mike. I really, really know him."

My concerns -- my dread, even my fear -- were focused upon Jeff Jackson, the one man in the world of whom I was deeply jealous. Jeff was for almost four years my uncle's teammate, roommate, closest friend and, I felt, almost certainly, his lover. During his entire four years at Stanford my uncle had played second base and Jeff shortstop for the Cardinals. It was a classic of teamwork. Once they were starters (and that came soon), game after game, it was Jackson to Burlington to Stone (on first). In two seasons, they led the NCAA in double plays turned. It was a thing of beauty to watch them. I had only seen them play a couple of times together -- except for their appearance in the NCAA College World Series when they were juniors, which of course was all over ESPN2. 

They were assigned together as roommates in their freshman year, and within a very few days it was as if they were brothers; and they continued to live together until they graduated. (How they first met, and the exact kind of relationship they sustained during the years they roomed together, is a story for another time.)

Mike had brought Jeff home for part of the Christmas holidays when he was a sophomore, and that's when I first met him. He was hugely impressive. He was 6 feet and one-half inch tall, and the very picture of an athlete: trim, but with broad shoulders, big arms and legs, and an animal grace. He was also incredibly handsome, with a very striking face: beautiful dark eyes, thick dark hair -- which he kept neatly cropped; a beautiful chin and firm jaw, that always seemed stubbly even just a few hours after he'd shaved closely. His thick dark eyebrows lent an unusual animation to his face, which in any case would have stopped traffic. He was a major babe! 

He was from Pine Ridge, Texas, in the Big Thicket region, and he hated to wear long pants. It was always that way where he grew up, in subtropical Southeast Texas; and later in the mild Palo Alto area long pants were rarely necessary. But probably his aversion to long pants had something to do with the fact that he had the most insanely gorgeous legs ever seen: muscular and remarkably well-formed; but covered evenly with a rich coat of dark hair, the same hair that covered his forearms and belly. In this respect he was the dark twin to Mike, whose large and graceful limbs were so notably covered in crisp, blond hair.

If you listened to Jeff speak in his soft, but cultivated, East Texas accent you might easily underestimate him. Like Mike, he got virtually top scores on his SATs, and he was the top student in his school; but unlike Mike, who is remarkably clever, extremely well-informed, and who has a deep innate understanding of personalities, Jeff was a genuine intellectual, drawn to the world of ideas in a way in which the highly pragmatic Mike would never be. It was no surprise that while Mike became a computer engineer, and one of the most promising in the nation, on graduation Jeff went toYale with an important fellowship awarded by their Philosophy department, and he has been their prize student for the last two years. What might surprise some was that despite their differing approaches to the greater world around them, Mike and Jeff were remarkably sympathetic.

And that's why I dreaded his arrival. I was quite rabidly jealous of this god-like creature who had not only been the closest of teammates on a club which covered itself in glory, thanks in significant measure to their deadly double-play action -- and to the impressive offensive stats the two of them racked up year after year; but also they were the closest of friends, and day after day, night after night, month after month, year after year, Jeff had lived in closest intimacy with Mike, the uncle I had idolized every day of my life. Of course I hated him.

But Allie said, "Don't worry. Despite your life-long closeness with your uncle, in a significant way you do not quite understand him. He is far bigger, far more powerful, far more expansive than you give him credit for. That's why I can share him with you. There's so much of him. I have perfect confidence that in sharing him with you, I do not diminish or threaten my relationship whatsoever with him; in fact I deepen and enrich it. I know that at his very core he loves you very much. It's a love different from, but in many ways very similar to, the love he bears me. And these last seven days have immeasurably enriched and strengthened the love he has for you: I know. We've talked extensively and quite specifically about it. And in addition, I have come to love you more than I could have imagined. In part, just for yourself: you are a remarkable young man, quite wonderful in every way, particularly in your character; but in part, because you are so very much like your uncle, and all the things that make me love him so desperately make me love you too; and most of all, because loving you is another profoundly important thing that Mike and I share."

Allie said this in a kindly, but quite matter-of-fact way. Did she not know what a huge power her words were having on me? Actually, of course, she did. She knew exactly the effect that she was producing, and honestly, these words, offered so prosaically and unaffectedly, pierced my heart in a way that no sentimental assurance could ever have done. I felt suddenly light-headed, and I even doubted for a moment if it were safe for me to continue to bike! But even in my moment of physical weakness, I felt as if my soul had expanded like a mushroom cloud.

Allie continued: "There's room for both you and me in Mike's great heart; and when the time comes, there'll be room there for our kids; and eventually for their kids too. It's not a zero-sum game. There's room there too for Jeff. I think they will always love each other, but, unfortunately for Jeff, his soul is not constructed in such a magnificent way as Mike's is; and he has a need for an exclusive possession of Mike's core that Mike can never concede, and Jeff is therefore doomed to frustration. This became very evident when I came on the scene. Mike had dated one Stanford cutie after another, and believe me, none of them had oatmeal between the ears, either! Jeff was unfazed. He knew he was closer to Mike's heart than any of them, with their teamwork, their deep sympathy, and their ever-growing shared experience, and I know that their sex was hot, very, very hot."

"But when Mike met me, something different clicked. Hey, I don't know, it was some kind of Vulcan mind meld or something. It was a first time thing for me, and, Mike says, for him. So for the first time in years Jeff was not Mike's number one, and it was devastating to him. Unfortunately for all three of us, instead of our coming to an accommodation, especially possible in view of the fact that Mike was so unlimited, so boundless in his personality and makeup, Jeff could not help himself, and in his jealousy he conceived a dislike for me that has deeply damaged their relationship in a way in which it will be difficult to repair. Mike and I have spent hours and hours and hours talking about this. It has been the single gravest tragedy in his life. But it's beyond Mike's powers to make it right all by himself. Most of the changing necessarily has to come from Jeff. In time we both hope it will; at present, it has not yet developed."

"So on two fronts, let me reassure you: First, there is room in Mike's heart not only for you and for me but also for Jeff; you'll never be diminished by any passion that Mike feels for Jeff. And second, right now, despite everything, Jeff is still unable to reconcile himself to Mike's love for me; and if he knew of its depth and significance, of Mike's love for you as well. And as long as this unhappy condition subsists, Jeff sadly cannot resume his place in Mike's heart of hearts."

"And, knowing Mike as I do, what I urge you with every fiber of my being is to let your anxiety, your jealousy, your fear of Jeff just dissipate, evaporate. Greet him as a friend and a brother, someone with whom you share a great and good thing, a love for Mike. That is the best way to help Mike, help Jeff, and most of all help yourself."

When we returned to Alice's house, I excused myself to give Steve a call in Cheyenne. We talked for about half an hour. By the time I got off the phone, Alice had already headed out to the airport to pick up her cousin from Tucson and her old college roommate.

Mike and I were due at the airport ourselves in a little over two hours. Mike said, "Ready for a shower?" and of course I was! Alice's shower was a little larger than standard, but still quite compact for two big guys together. Oddly, now that I thought of it, it had been five days since he and I had been alone together, and we really enjoyed the time together under the warm prickly spray. My uncle was gorgeous 24/7, but never more so than in the shower. Wet, and lying against his skin, his dark blonde body hair looked even thicker and denser, whether it was the great mat on his chest, or the dense, gradually widening trail down his abs to his pubes. The golden hair on his arms also seemed heavier, denser, and thicker when wet, as did the hair on his legs, extending from his butt right down to his ankles. After his recent haircut, only his much-reduced forelock streamed down his forehead, but it was so fetching. His body was perfection itself in its proportions and even development. He looked like a slightly beefed up Apollo Praxiteles.

From the dense forest of pubic hair, matted and darkened by the water, his big heavy penis stood free, not erect, just full and fat, and incredibly beautiful, resting on his large, heavy balls.

It was the greatest of pleasures to soap him up, all over, from his ankles and highly defined calves, right up to the crack of his butt, and from his slim hips and waist up to his flaring shoulders. And his big arms, his powerful neck, his big chest, and rippling abs, and finally between his legs. I held his big cock in my hands and soaped it, while he looked on at me kindly and lovingly, as it filled and stiffened and rose right out of my hands to cleave to his hairy belly.

He soaped me too. My arms and legs were as hairy as his, but, though ropy with muscles, they were not as bulky and powerful-seeming as his. And while my belly was very hairy, it was not quite so thickly thatched as his. To my enduring pride, however, my cock and balls, however, were virtually identical to his very impressive genitals, and this was true whether we were flaccid or terminally erect. One day (I hoped and dreamed) my chest would be as big and fine as his, and as manfully matted as his; but at barely 18 I had yet some growth and development to go.

We rinsed, luxuriously, and as we turned this way and that to get every body part under the single nozzle, we touched again and again. When my hugely erect penis brushed against his, Mike put his arms around me, pulled me against his body, so that our cocks were tangent, and he tilted his head just a little to his left and began the most sybaritic kiss I had ever experienced. We were virtually the same height, and so there was no need for either of us to crane his neck. He started with his lips brushing, just slightly, against mine; and then, loosening his embrace somewhat, he put his big right hand on my left shoulder, lightly, and nibbled my lower lip very gently. He pressed his lips a little more firmly to mine, and then he reduced the pressure a little, and just then the very tip of his tongue parted my lips every so slightly, and then it receded. The next time his tongue manifested itself, it was a little more aggressive, and it sought out mine. Mike placed his right hand behind my head the better to hold and secure it as his tongue invaded my mouth. And then it was back to his nibbling on my lip, ever so gently as we slowly, slowly turned under the warm shower. Since I loved Mike more than life itself, it seemed, I was in a trance, a state of stupefaction as he continued his ever-inventive, ever-new osculation.

Mike released me and turned off the water, and then grasped my right hand in his, and he led me out of the shower, and using the big, thick cotton bath sheets we toweled each other off, and once again Mike seized my right hand and led me to Alice's bed. With a sweep of his arm he directed me to lie down upon it, and he lay down beside me, in the opposite direction, with his head at my crotch, and his crotch at my head. And he gently stroked my belly and chest for just a minute, hardly more. Then supporting himself on his left arm, he planted his right hand across my body on the bed to the right of my right thigh; and with his left knee above my left shoulder, he planted his right knee on the other side of my head, so that his big balls hung just over my face, and his stiff cock rode just above my lips. Maneuvering very gracefully, and supporting himself on his left hand and arm, he used his right hand to seize my cock and introduce my cockhead into his lips, and he swirled his tongue over and around my flaring glans, my cock now totally rigid with urgency. He was in no haste whatsoever. With my phallus between his lips, he used his right hand to cup and fondle my balls. Moving his head up and down, he took not only my cockhead but a good portion of my shaft as well into his mouth.

Meanwhile, tilting my head upward, and assisting a bit with my hand, I was able to place my lips on his great cock, and I caressed the head with my lips and my tongue, and even as Mike was enveloping my phallus in his mouth. Because I did not have a great deal of space available to move my head, Mike very gently and delicately flexed his hips just a bit up and then s.l.o.w.l.y down, so that he was very carefully fucking my face. 

Anyone who has tried this specific form of sex knows that it can be a very powerful symbol, a symbol of intense reciprocity, and, perhaps, depending upon the circumstances, of deep love. And I knew that that was Mike had intended. That dear Allie had told him of my anxiety about Jeff, and that this was his way of reassuring me.

As soon as Mike had invited me to shower with him, my heart had risen in my chest; and his kiss was still a new and more comforting reassurance; and now this, this artful and awkward sixty-nine, something that we had never before attempted in this particular way. But anyone who has tried this specific school figure knows that for two guys with really large and really stiff cocks, it is a somewhat frustrating scheme for achieving real mutual satisfaction of the highest order.

So once Mike had deeply gratified me with the symbolism, he flipped himself back to the position from which he started, so that we were side by side, my feet toward his head, his feet toward mine. He scooted a little to his left, so that our hips were tangent, and raised my right leg and laid it across his chest. Grabbing the bottle of lube from the bedside table he poured a generous quantity into his right hand and he grasped my cock near the base. I held out my right hand to him and he squirted a good mess of lube into my palm, and thereupon I grasped his cock, and for the next twenty minutes we slowly, generously, reciprocally pleasured one another, slow and fast, fast and slow, using perhaps half a dozen different arabesques of swirls and pulls. As much as I had loved Mike before, now the feeling was still more intense. From my current perspective, my life before last week now seemed as if it had been nothing but a Sahara of barrenness and frustration.

Finally (because we were soon due at the airport), Mike shifted to a steadier pace of stroking and in two more minutes we were suddenly done; and since I had taken my lead from Mike, we arrived at climax together, a very delightfully messy event. 

Covered with Mike's cum and mine, and the greasy-feeling lube, the simplest thing to do was to jump into the shower together again, which we did, but now there was no time for any funny business, as we rushed to get ready. Fortunately, with our new haircuts it was very easy to towel off and simply jump into our shorts and tee shirts.

Jeff's plane was on time and, per our arrangement, Mike and I waited for him at the luggage carrousel. Mike smiled broadly as Jeff approached, and he almost trotted toward him, clasping him in his arms, and hugging him hard and tight and long. And he kissed Jeff's ear and then his cheek, and then, releasing him from his bear hug, he took Jeff's face in his two hands and kissed him directly, if briefly, on the lips. Tears coursed down Jeff's incredibly handsome face, and, as they embraced again, I could see wetness on Mike's cheeks too. "I've missed you, man," was all that Mike could say at first. Almost at the point of choking, Jeff forced out, "Me too."

As they stepped back toward me, Mike said, "Jeff, You remember my nephew Mikey." Jeff looked me over appraisingly and said, "It's been a few years, Mikey, since I saw you last, and they've been good to you. I don't recall you're being taller than me before. You've really filled out. And, wow, it's spooky how much you look like your uncle."

Though they kept in touch by phone and email, there was still a great deal of catching up to do. About the wedding, Mike's work, Jeff's studies, life at Yale, and so forth. 

From the airport we drove directly back to Mike's apartment, about a mile away from Alice's place. For the last few months, he had, all but technically, lived at Alice's; but he did maintain his old place where he kept clothes, books, a pretty impressive array of computers and electronics, most of his sports equipment, and so forth. Jeff would be staying there until Sunday after the wedding. 

Mike had earlier this morning told Alice that he didn't know when the bachelor party was going to be over, "But," he said, "it'll almost certainly be very late, and so instead of waking you up, Mikey and I'll plan to spend the night at my place tonight, and ..."

"...And," Alice smoothly interrupted, finishing his sentence as she sometimes did, "you and Jeff'll fuck yourselves silly." 

"Well, yes," said Mike. "I want to, and I'm sure he wants to."

"And to tell the truth," Alice said, "I want you to also. It'll be good for you and, very, very good for him." 




Alice, My Uncle, & Me Ch. 03b



"Don't worry, I'll call you as soon as we get back to let you know we arrived safe."

"Mike, here's a better idea, one that I think is likely to have a certain therapeutic effect. Don't call me when you get in; call me while you and Jeff are fucking. It will surely show him that your relationship is all right with me, it will build his confidence, it can be a useful step toward healing the hurt we all three feel."

That Allie! She was incredibly wise, incredibly profound. Others may have thought that this would have been an incredibly risky experiment, but Allie was extremely confident in her man, and in the vast strength of their relationship.

"But what about Mikey?" she asked.

"We'll see how that develops," he said, smiling at me, and putting his hand on my shoulder; "but for Jeff's sake, he has to know pretty explicitly the kind of relationship that Mikey and I have." 

So now Jeff, Mike and I were in Mike's apartment, and he opened a nice bottle of merlot. We took seats in his little living room, Mike and I on the small sofa and Jeff in a chair immediately adjacent to it. I noticed that Mike took care that his right calf very slightly touched Jeff's left calf. It was a little thing, indeed it only amounted to Mike's golden hair intersecting with the thick dark hair of Jeff's beautiful calf, but it was very powerful. I knew its potency because Mike kept just the tips of the fingers of his left hand on my right shoulder as we talked. The force they exerted could be measured at just a few grams; but their power to affect, even control, me was quite astonishing.

I think Jeff was a little disconcerted that I was there; or more specifically, that he didn't have Mike all to himself. But then, that was part of Mike's plan to try to rehabilitate their relationship, but on firmer grounds for the future.

Over the wine, the conversation grew deeper. Jeff's personal life was somewhat confusing. He was in a relationship with a classmate, Phoebe, the daughter of a classics professor, and also with his housemate, Harrison, an instructor in the Chemistry department. They were both healthy, affirming, and fun relationships, but it went without saying that neither of them -- and not even both of them together -- came anywhere near to matching what Mike and he had once shared. Harrison, Jeff volunteered, was a really great fuck, though. He was a part-time yoga instructor, and he had, over the course of the last two years, trained Jeff in some really cool techniques. Some weekends, their sexual interludes together sometimes extended up to six uninterrupted hours, punctuated with climaxes of such quality and intensity that Jeff had hitherto never even suspected could exist. Mike appeared to take this statement with equanimity. 

Jeff's relationship with Phoebe was very enriching. Her areas of research closely paralleled his and they reinforced each other's work very neatly. Their sex was always good and sometimes, Jeff, said, fantastic. He knew she loved him, and he thought that he was falling in love with her too. 

Jeff's inquiries about Allie seemed to me to be more polite than cordial; but we all understood the rather miserable context in which they were offered, and Mike and Jeff soldiered through this difficult patch, and as soon as possible they moved on to other matters.

Like the bachelor party, whose beginning was now only a very few hours away.



Alice, My Uncle, & Me Ch. 03c



This continues the account of the third of five days and nights that studly 18 year old Mikey spends together with Mike, the 24-year old uncle he idolizes, and Mike's fascinating and beautiful 22-year old fiancée Alice. The beginning of their story is told in "Cross-Country with My Uncle," and continued by "Alice, My Uncle, and Me," day 1 and day 2, and Day 3, parts 1 and 2.

You might think as Best Man I'd have planned my uncle Mike's bachelor's party, or at least have been involved in it; but I was a continent away, and anyway not quite 18 years old when the planning was underway. In fact the real host was Matt Rawlinson, one of the three founding partners of Mike's firm. He was only 6 years older than Mike, but already at 30 he was rich, rich beyond counting, for the firm had been a success right from the start, and its growth had astonished even jaded Silicon Valley observers. Matt had recruited Mike, and subsequently promoted him twice in under two years, and Mike now reported directly to him. They had a warm, friendly, and highly productive relationship. Matt was in a long-term and stable relationship with Drew Abbott, one of the region's most prominent endocrinologists. Matt had planned everything, and in fact he was paying for everything, and he absolutely didn't care what it cost. Mike was a hugely valuable employee as well as a good friend.

So at six pm on the dot an extra-wide limo appeared at my uncle's apartment, and Mike, Jeff, and I were ushered into the back seat. Already the limo had picked up the other guests for the forty-mile trip into San Francisco. They included Bill Stone, Mike and Jeff's old teammate and first baseman on the Stanford Cardinals, and their first African-American infield starter; Hank Jensen, the head of the other department that reported to Matt, an admired colleague and friend; and the other three members of Mike's rowdy bar band, The Splittin' Beavers. The Beavers had originated as a gag a few years ago at Stanford. Mike, an accomplished musician, had recruited three other classmates to form a little group to play at a party to celebrate the Cardinals' victory in the College World Series when they were juniors. Turned out that with just a little practice they could produce some really serviceable covers of Joe Cocker and Bob Seegar and Creedence -- that sort of thing. 

They got several gigs at school functions and then they began to play local bars. They loved it and the rowdier, the better. In addition to Mike the Beavs included Tim Ziegler, "Z," then a music major and a violinist in the university orchestra; Joe Kraft, now a Ph. D. student in chemistry, who had been a serious cellist in high school -- and a drummer in a garage band -- and he still had the knack; and saxophonist Adam Duncan, an economics major as an undergraduate and now an assistant vice president the international department of an important bank in the area. And what gave them so much versatility was that they all played the guitar: Z and Mike took turns as lead guitar, and Joe and Dunc doubled on bass, and they all could share lead singer duties.

I sat on Mike's right and Jeff on his left on the rear seat of the outsized limo facing a cocktail table; Matt and Hank on the side seats on the left side of the limo, facing the table; Bill and Z on the right; and Joe and Dunc on the seat facing backward toward the table. There were crackers and brandade de morue to spread on them, and Matt broke out the first of many bottles of 1995 vintage Taittinger Blanc de Blanc. This wasn't at all going to be a stogie-and-New-York-champagne-and-silicone-mama kind of an evening.

Things began to get loose as soon as we got underway, though. The Beavs had written a really nasty and hilarious parody of "The Hawaiian Wedding Song," and Hank handed around a dozen amazingly skillfully doctored digital photos of Mike in flagrante delicto with the likes of Charleze Theron, Cameron Diaz, Madonna, Kate Beckinsale, Cher, Kathy Bates, Eminem, Tupac, and Danny deVito. And we went around and the guys all told exactly how they'd each met Mike, the stories embellished with salacious and utterly impossible details.

The limo pulled up at a side door of La Reve, a club known to the San Francisco cognoscenti for its sex shows. The doorman directed us through a private little lobby and up a flight of stairs to some small, but luxurious dressing rooms. Actually, from our point of view, they were undressing rooms. The attendant, a buxom blonde girl of about 18 wearing nothing but a thong asked each one of us for his first name, and directed us accordingly to the one on the right or on the left or the one in the middle. Mike and I and Jeff were sent to the one in the middle; Matt and Z and Joe, who shared a taste for handsome men, were directed to the room on the left; and Dunc and Hank and Bill, who appreciated the ladies, were directed to the room on the right. Matt had checked with Mike about everyone's preferences, and he had made all the detailed arrangements in advance.

In the middle room there were two attendants barely out of their teens, one an implausibly handsome blonde guy, lean and muscular, wearing nothing but a sort of Speedo thing. He was amazingly built, with every muscle perfectly developed, though in a slender and lithe fashion, with nothing of the pneumatic about him. The kid was seriously hung, and the Speedo hid little and disguised nothing. His penis was obviously partially erect, stretching out the elastic fabric. Nor did the minimal garment cover more than his pubic hair proper: his well-defined treasure trail extended to his navel; but the rest of his torso was smooth, fully disclosing his sculpted abs and chest.

The other attendant was a dark-eyed brunette, "dressed" in nothing but a thong. It was bright red, though, as tiny as it was. She had a remarkably fresh-faced beauty, and an athletic body as lithe as the young guy. I could tell that her stunningly beautiful breasts were quite real. Though firm and shapely they moved seductively with her every motion. It was impossible to say who was the more strikingly beautiful.

Ostensibly the attendants were to assist us in changing. They started with Mike, and the girl - she said her name was Lila -- nuzzled him on the neck, and grabbing his polo shirt by its hem, slowly pulled it over his head. Naturally, he gracefully held his arms above his head as she pulled it over his face - and then in medias res she stopped, with him more or less blinded. And with both her hands she slowly stroked his big, sexy, hairy chest, going "Oh, my! We have a real winner here!" and planted playful kisses on each of his nipples in turn, causing him to give a little jerk and a gasp. This little routine certainly didn't make the boy's job any easier, for as she was completing pulling Mike's shirt off, he was working on Mike's belt and begin undoing his shorts, which he let drop to the floor. Mike's cock was already nearly completely erect, with his cockhead already extending well beyond the waistband of Mike's low-rise briefs. As he pulled the little undershorts off, he revealed Mike's mighty cock, standing altogether upright, and his big swinging balls. "We DO have a champ here!" goes the guy (he was Brian). "Wow!" He slid the little shorts slowly down Mike's huge thighs, covered densely with golden hair, and then over his big and well-defined hairy calves, in the process trailing his fingers along the entire length of his legs.

He stepped away and the girl knelt before Mike and gave his cock a playful kiss - actually enveloping his cockhead and a full inch of the shaft too - and cupped his big balls in her right hand. It was just a teasing gesture, however, for while she used her tongue expertly, the whole thing was less than 30 seconds' fun. She rose and pulled Mike over to the leather couch and indicated that he was to sit down, and she knelt once again to remove his shoes and pull off his socks. It was his turn to enjoy watching Jeff and me being disrobed.

Jeff was next. The boy pulled off Jeff's shirt and planted a big kiss right on his beautiful chin and then his refined mouth, while letting his hands wander over Jeff's big pecs. "My, oh my," said the girl, and she knelt before him to undo Jeff's shorts. His erection was already hugely evident, tenting out the front of the shorts. Jeff was wearing nothing under his shorts, and after she had undone the button at his waist, she took unusual care in unzipping him. She actually had fun doing it, moving the slide slowly down, and as the shorts parted, the remainder of his sexy belly came into view. His cock was approximately the size of Mike's and mine, and it was very fully erect, with his impressive cockhead taut and shiny. She grabbed it playfully but firmly, and sinking to her knees she pulled it down to horizontal and pressed her lips over the smooth glans, and over the corona, and onto the shaft, just as she had done with Mike.

When she stepped away to guide him to the couch, for the first time I got a good look at his body. It was entirely beautiful, from the powerful legs bulging with muscles and covered entirely with a luxuriant growth of dark hair. It extended up his legs and merged with the dark hair of his lower belly. His big pecs were strewn with still more, and from my vantage point I also could see that his butt was as fuzzy as Mike's or mine, but his hair was dark. With his chiseled features and dark eyes, dramatic eyebrows, beautiful mouth and nose, and All-American chin and jaw line, Jeff's face was fucking beautiful. And as a whole ensemble, from his trim dark hair to his furry feet, he was remarkably good looking. Remembering Alice's wise words, I tried to banish my jealousy of him and his long-term relationship with Mike, but it was impossible. All I could do was suppress it to a tolerable degree.

And now it was my turn, and I felt Jeff's eyes on me. And he was probably sharing the same sort of feelings of jealousy I was experiencing, but probably to an even higher degree, if Alice were right, as almost certainly she was.

So in a rather infantile way I tried to puff myself up a little. I spread my legs a little wider; I squared my shoulders; I lifted my chin perceptibly; I flexed my pecs as much as I could without it being obvious; and I specifically focused on Mike and his body and achieved thereby a very, very full erection. I knew that Mike loved me sincerely and completely, and that he understood and accepted and even gloried in my idolatry along with my love. And now Alice too unambiguously loved me. I had nothing to worry about when it came to Jeff, but I couldn't help myself.

As the beautiful girl approached me to pull off my shirt she said, "Honey, you've gotta be his brother; you're almost like twins." Mike said, "He's just like my brother; but actually he's my nephew and my namesake. We're much closer than most brothers." Boy, was that the truth! I wonder if she gave that statement the meaning that I mentally assigned it. I doubt very seriously that she did.

As she pulled off the shirt, she smoothed her hand over my well defined pecs with their whorls of fine golden vellous hair, and she said, "You got any more at home like you guys?" The boy came from behind, and approached me very closely, in effect caressing me with his body as he reached around to my waist and undid my shorts and let them drop to the floor. Like Mike's had done, the head of my cock extended well above the waistband of my low-cut briefs. Hooking his thumbs in the waistband of my briefs, Brian carefully pulled them down and over my cock and balls, which were the virtual image of Mike's. As he did, I could feel the firmness of his cock straining through the thin fabric of his Speedo, pressed against my butt. Once the little undershorts were at mid-thigh level, the girl slowly pulled them down and I stepped out of them. As she had done with the Mike's and Jeff's, she took my erection in her mouth. But somehow this was different. With them, she had been playful, teasing, and brief. With me, she began some serious fellation, using her tongue artfully, gazing up into my eyes, and caressing my big balls with her hands. And then she gasped my phallus with both hands and worked her oral magic on just my cockhead. Meanwhile, the boy was still behind me, pressing his hard body against mine, and nuzzling my neck and one ear after the other with little kisses, while reaching around to my front, he stroked my chest and belly. Between their two attacks I soon began to think I was a goner, but the girl slowly, slowly removed her mouth, and then giving the very tip of my cock one more little sweet kiss, she withdrew altogether, saying "Honey, that's as far as it's safe to go right now." Smiling at me and gesturing at my erection, she said, "You're going to need that for later."

And next they directed their attention to Mike and Jeff, still seated, legs wide spread, on the couch. Kneeling, the girl began sucking Mike's big dick, working with deliberate luxury, and Mike smiled at her and stroked her beautiful smooth hair; and similarly the boy took Jeff into his mouth, while running his fingers through the dark hair of Jeff's thighs, as Jeff stroked his hair. At some sign or signal I did not perceive, the boy and the girl grasped Mike and Jeff's hands, rose, and pulled them to a standing position, both with their legs very widely spread, their testicles swinging below their erections. Switching subjects, the boy fellated Mike now; and the girl Jeff, using essentially the same techniques that had been practiced on me; and with the same prudential, if frustrating slowdown, they withdrew before they'd gotten to the point of no return.

From a cabinet, the attendants brought out luxurious thick white cotton robes for each of us and held them open for us to don; but they were so short that they barely covered our butts, and their sleeves came down only to the middle of our forearms. We loosely closed them and secured them with sashes, and the attendants brought out and thick white socks. We sat down, and they pulled them onto our feet. That was it. The whole 'changing' process had only taken about 25 minutes.

From the dressing room we were ushered into a fair-sized private room containing a large round table connected by a short runway to a stage. Mike's seat was in the middle; my place card was at the seat on Mike's right; Jeff's seat was on his left; and Matt, Z, and Joe were already seated to my right, and Dunc, Hank and Bill would soon take their seats on Jeff's left. Already at our places was more of the Taittinger and dishes containing caviar and the classic garnishes, but we had only a few minutes to settle down and chat and sample the beluga before the general lighting of the room dimmed, and then there was a blackout for a moment, during which music began to swell.

It was the Beach Boys singing "Do You Wanna Dance" in their wonderful slightly nasal way, and then the lights on the stage came on to reveal a simple set representing a swing-dance club with three pairs of dancers, dressed all in black. I recognized Lila and Brian right away, and I noticed that Joe, always a little zany, blew a kiss to the handsome boy dancing on the left. The boy smiled broadly right at Joe, but of course didn't break character, and Hank whispered animatedly to Dunc, pointing at the beautiful blonde girl who was part of the middle pair. The guys wore very tight-fitting shirts, and pants that were, if anything, even tighter. The girls' dresses were foamy chiffony numbers that stopped well above their knees, with bodices that were as tight as the boy's shirts, but with plunging necklines and spaghetti straps. The dancers gave a superb performance, with all sorts of athletic throws and returns and spins, all in perfect synchrony; and there were these clingy moves where the guys and girls moved practically as one as they whirled, with their legs closely intermeshed during the intricate moves, and their crotches seemed to be glued together. Talk about dirty dancin', this was it.

A single male dancer enters, dressed like the other guys, but a little taller than the others, and stands off to one side, surveying the others appraisingly. The Beach Boys are succeeded by the throb of Robert Plant's "Simply Irresistible, " and now the dancers' movements were more frenetic, when an incredibly beautiful red-haired girl in a bright yellow chiffon dress and in three-quarter heels enters. Okay, it was a rip-off of "Contact," though considering the amount that Matt paid for tonight, this excerpt was probably fully licensed.

In any case, the similarity to the Broadway version of "Contact" quickly ceased when each of the girls grabbed her partner's shirt and ripped it right off - they were obviously specially rigged breakaway items - and in turn the guys ripped off their partners' bodices and then skirts, tossing them off the stage, and leaving the girls absolutely nude, except for their dance shoes, but never missing a step. As the drum of the music continued, the gals grabbed their partners' breakaway pants, and they, too, were left entirely nude, all without the slightest interruption in the dancing.

Now as "All I Wanna Do" begin to spin, the dancers clung again to their partners, and spun and twirled, giving us guys a real cool view of their backsides. These kids were really toned as well as being very talented dancers! And then as they resumed their intricate throws and returns - the inside whip with a double turn, the right side cutoff with a double turn, etc. -- they were revealed in all their beauty again and again. Though they varied considerably in detail, of course - two of the girls were blondes, the other brunette; two had had short hair, the other almost shoulder length; and the amount and distribution of the guys' body hair varied a lot; but what was remarkable was how similar their builds were, lean and muscular. The six of them were almost like a matched team of dappled greys. And in synchronized motion, they looked even more stunning. No one was surprised to see that all three guys were sporting big boners; nor that all the nine guests around the table were, too.

By now all the guests' robes were pulled wide open, and in fact to one degree or another every one of us was touching, fondling, or stroking himself. Both Dunc and Joe were both far advanced in serious, industrial-strength masturbation, and it was perfectly evident that they didn't intend to let up until they had shot their loads. They were both very good-looking guys, well-built, and in fact what they were doing attracted a fair amount of attention from their friends, despite the show on stage. So efficient and determined was their work that within a minute or two more both of them had cum, making a sexy mess on their bellies that they just mopped up with their cushy robes. And unsurprisingly, they were ready for second pulls in a matter of minutes.

The two lead dancers, the taller guy and the red-haired girl in yellow, were out front, more or less following the same routines as the three couples in the line, but with a certain extra flair, and they added an extra rollout or tuck turn. They were incredibly talented, and incredibly hot, hot, hot! 

The red-haired girl was just as lean and lithe as the other girls, but there was something else indefinable about her that made her extra-special. Partly it was her beautiful breasts. Of course none of the dancers had outsized breasts - it just wouldn't have worked in la danse nue! - but considering the fact that naked swing dancing (what a notion!) required firm, youthful breasts, hers were rather generous, while at the same time remaining shapely and firm. And partly it was the classic beauty of her face. In the end, however, it amounts to je ne sais quoi. But it was real, nonetheless. 

The guy, without being the slightest bit bulky, for he was just as lithe as the rest, provided the absolute definition of sculpted abs. He had the most remarkably economical muscularity of body imaginable. He wasn't overbroad in the shoulders, or over-developed in the chest, or anywhere else, but rather he was a perfectly balanced specimen of masculine beauty. There was one area, however, that stood as an exception, and that was his erect cock. It was quite probably 9 inches long - way outside the norm - and as he danced, it was displayed dramatically, jutting outward at about 30 degrees from his belly. Some professional dancers insist on a smooth body to emphasize the clarity of their lines as they dance; but not all, and not this guy. His legs and forearms were generously provided with honey-colored hair that caught the theatrical lighting and gave his limbs a fuzzy halo however he moved them. His chest was covered with the same colored hair, and a fairly narrow trail descended down his midline, finally to lose itself in the bush of light brown hair from which his big cock rose. Otherwise his impressive abs were smooth.




Alice, My Uncle, & Me Ch. 03c



The girl, for her part, was evidently a natural redhead, or so it appeared from her neatly maintained patch of golden-red curls at her crotch.

As "Who's Watching Who" began the lighting suddenly changed, and the backup dancers fell into darkness and disappeared, but a spotlight illuminated the lead dancers, who stepped across the little runway and right onto the tabletop, around which we nine were seated. As the music shifted to the much slower Barbara Lewis's "Hello, Stranger," they danced very closely, but with an amazing grace, seemingly effortlessly. It would have been hugely erotic if they had been wearing street clothes; but absolutely nude it was unbearably hot, and as they turned, all of us around the table got excellent views. As they slowly, slowly went through their sensual moves, they began to kiss and nuzzle one another, adding hugely to the heat of their performance.

Because they were dancing right on the tabletop, they were no more than a very few feet from us spectators. We could have (had we not been warned against it) reached out and touched them.

At a certain point they slowed their movements more and more until they were really only undulating to the rhythms of the music, and the guy stood with his legs spread, and the girl slowly, very slowly, worked her way down his front, kissing his chest and then his middle, and letting her hands caress him sensually as she gracefully arrived at a crouch before him, and she took his great phallus in her hands, and slowly, slowly stroked him, as the music slowed still more with the very slow tempo version of "All the Way," by Celine Dion and Frank Sinatra," and beginning with small kisses along the length of his shaft, she moved gradually into a very artful fully-featured fellatio.

There has been significant research done at major labs using the penile pneumophethysmograph to measure sexual responses. The studies use a band stretched around the penis to measure changes in its girth as subjects are shown a variety of sexual images. What's interesting is that no matter what the subjects say in preliminary questionnaires about their sexual orientation or personal preferences or practices or even church attendance, the result is generally the same: The penile responses to images of fellatio are almost always the strongest. The management of the club was well aware of this and consequently this particular practice was the very heart of their show. The red-haired girl was remarkably versatile and talented, not only at giving a blow job, but making it look absolutely great to the customers, taking care that at times she deep-throated the guy, and at other times she worked only on the cockhead so that his shaft was in full view; and that there were intervals of when she was licking the shaft and the guy's balls.

As for the guy, he excited all our admiration, withstanding this treatment so stalwartly, in such a odd public setting, and remaining not only totally rigid and erect, but also continuing to sway to the music - it was "It's Your Love" with Tim McGraw and Faith Hill now - and to look just great as he variously stroked the girl's hair or face.

There wasn't a single one of the guests who hadn't shot at least once by now, and finally the girl reclined fully, abandoning her task at last. And as Otis Redding began his slow, slow sensuous wail "I've Been Loving You Too Long", the girl spread her legs, the guy knelt between them, and gave her a long, soulful kiss on her pussy, and then kissed his way up to her breasts, and then her mouth, as he inserted his long, strong cock into her.

The needs of exhibition, however, took precedence over simple venery, and he raised himself up on his arms and knees, somewhat above her body, to make sure that the union between them was as visible to the customers as possible. And we watched as he flexed his powerful butt to the slow tempo of the music. At the very conclusion, as expected, he rolled off to the side of the woman, and lay on his back as she knelt again beside him and once again grasped his cock, and with a few strokes produced the "money shot": His cum jetted onto his belly in two or three spasms, and he lay there, his chest heaving, as the two of them acknowledged the heartfelt applause of us nine guys.

A brief blackout permitted them to leave the table and stage decorously, and when the lights came back up, the six dancers were now serving as waiters, bringing our first course to us: grilled fois gras, with a mango sauterne reduction sauce. If that sounds fancy, well, hell yes it was fancy. What was it doing in a sex club? Matt had arranged everything. The food had been preordered from one of San Francisco's finest restaurant, only about a block away, and one of their staff was working in the kitchens of the club below to finish and plate the food before it was brought upstairs. Of course this approach was not ideal from the culinary point of view, but it was made to work. On Matt's instructions, the portions were small.

The prohibition upon touching the staff was restricted to their performance, and the charming and beautiful performers, still entirely nude, received numerous admiring pets and strokes as they served us, and they returned our attentions with grins and smiles and strokes of their own.

With respect to the fine wines Matt had selected, he had also instructed the staff not to over serve the guests, since the champagne had started at just after 6 pm in the limo, and Matt did not want to have his guests in a stupor before the end of the evening.

The entrée was a small piece of filet mignon, perfectly finished, garnished with a bit of sautéed frissée, an asparagus spear or two, and a little mound of puree de pomme, the last-named luxuriously dripping with truffle oil.

As the dancer-waiters cleared the main course dishes, there was another change in the lighting and on stage a screen descended from the fly. Matt pressed a remote control and sounds and images began to appear. It was a sort of "This Is Your Life, Mike Burlington." Actually, I was first up. Weeks ago, with the help of my grandmother and mom, I had selected photos of Mike as a boy, and I had sent Matt digital scans of them. He had compiled them into a slide show, and he handed me the remote. I briefly told the guys about what a wonderful guy Mike had been as a kid, as pix of him as an unbelievably cute little tow-headed boy began to appear. Then there was a short piece of action - Matt had converted it from some videotape I'd sent -- of Mike playing tee-ball, and then more stills of Mike as a Cub Scout, and playing the piano, and as a second-baseman on his regional champion Little League team, and as an 12-year old being given a medal at a swim meet, and then a series of pictures of Mike and Sandy, his 8th grade girlfriend, and Mike and Laura, his 9th grade sweetie, and Mike and Marianne, one of his 10th grade steadies. He was cute as little kid, really charming as a boy, but increasingly and eventually shockingly good-looking as a teenager.

When the image of Mike and Laura came up, I held it on screen, and I told a story that I knew to be true.

Mike's mom, my grandmother, was on the school board, and board meetings never took less than 4 hours and often six or even more. One afternoon after school, when Mike was 14, he and Laura were in his bedroom, home alone. Mike's dad was in New York City that day, and his mom was at a board meeting, sure to last until 7 pm. Laura, his classmate and the daughter of a socially prominent neighbor, had been his steady girl for weeks. Mike, completely nude, lay spread-eagle on his bed, and kneeling between his legs was Laura, sucking and stroking Mike, who (the pictures I'd shown disclosed) was already tall and astonishingly well-built and handsome, when his bedroom door opened, and suddenly there was clean laundry flying all over the room. The school board meeting had been cancelled, and Mike's mom had been in the basement laundry all the time. She was bringing up his freshly laundered and folded clothes when she walked onto this scene, not even knowing that Mike was home. What she saw so suddenly so surprised and shocked her that she'd opened her arms and laundry went everywhere.

Registering what was going on, she quickly said, "Excuse me, I didn't know anyone was home," and backed out into the hall. Now you have to understand that Mike was the best kid God ever made. Never in trouble, straight As, always beloved by his teachers and coaches and scout masters, never missed a music lesson or even practice, obedient and compliant at home, kind to old people and animals, and in fine a perfect boy, the absolute apple of his parents' eyes, and he could do no wrong. Rebuking or even correcting him had hardly ever been necessary.

So as his mother withdrew in some amazement, Mike called out through the now reclosed door, "Uh, Mom, can Laura eat with us tonight?"

And his Mom said, "Why not? Looks like she's already started."

"True story," I said, to appreciative laughter.

After a few more shots of Mike bare-chested in a kayak, and on the diamond at the State championship, and finally graduation from high school, I turned the remote over to Jeff.

Jeff picked up with the story at Stanford. There were a couple of grainy snaps of Mike and Jeff as freshmen, together on the quads and on the field; and another showing them in some odd antic in their dorm room; and then there was a photo of the young and remarkably handsome pair in front of a bed and breakfast in Mendocino (they were juniors), together with the statuesque and top-heavy Cecil Twins, Margaret and Mary. And next a very short clip from a home video of Mike fucking Margaret and Jeff doing Mary all in one bed. It had quite evidently been one hell of a weekend at the "Sea Gull Inn."

And then there was a short sequence of about five Stanford Cardinal double-plays, all of them featuring Jeff, and Mike pivoting to Bill; and finally a little clip of Mike hitting the grand slam that clinched their berth in the College World Series when they were juniors.

Jeff passed the remote along to Z, who told about the original formation of the Splittin' Beavers, and he had a few pretty poorly lit videos of them working a club in somewhat grungy downtown Palo Alto. There was Mike in the tightest possible low-rise jeans, with a tee shirt cut a little short, so that his firm, hairy, athletic belly peeked through. He was holding a mike close to his face as he belts out Bob Seegar's "Old Time Rock and Roll"; and another little clip where he's playing lead guitar while Dunc wails Cocker's "You Are So Beautiful."

And then Matt takes the remote and begins a short series of pix of Mike surrounded by his colleagues at work, in meetings, at blackboards, and so forth, and he says a few words about what an important contribution Mike's making to the firm.

Then he says, "Now all of you know what a great guy Mike is, and almost all the stories about him, and his various achievements. But what's not so well known is that he's also a sometime performer in a sex club. He's considered a regular sex god at a place called "English Handicrafts," in London. Mike's mouth dropped open in amazement. To his knowledge, no one except Allie knew about that episode, which had taken place not much more than a month ago during a business trip. But evidently Allie and Matt had been conspiring behind his back, and as he watched the screen, he saw himself tied down to a bed absolute nude, surrounded by a railing at which were standing a dozen nude spectators hardly at arms' length away, as he is being slowly, slowly masturbated by a remarkably handsome man, also nude. Mike full well recalled all the details, how they had drawn out the experience for a full hour; how spectators on two different levels had watched, rapt, as he had been mercilessly slowly pleasured in a myriad of teasing ways, to the delight of the members, who came again and again, their cum splatting onto his beautiful body. And right now, to his continuing amazement, he saw his body in bonds, with any number of places where his body hair was matted by the members' cum. Of course he knew the performance had been videotaped: he'd specified it when he agreed to appear; and of course he and Allie had watched it several times with great pleasure. But he hadn't supposed that she'd give to Matt for this purpose. But after all wasn't this exactly the sort of thing that a great bachelor's party is known for? And, mainly, wasn't she inordinately proud of her wonderful man and his extreme sexiness? And he'd never explicitly told her not to share it; the topic just really hadn't come up. So as the clip unreeled, Mike's best pals in the world were as rapt as the Londoners had been, to see their incredibly beautiful and dear friend as a performer. Several called out, "Hey, I want a copy for myself!"

[For readers of this story who want to know all the details of Mike's adventure, read "Uncle Mike at English Crafty Hands."]

And Matt said, "Hey, you don't have to wait any longer. Our next act on the program is the Man of the Hour Himself, our Guest of Honor, Mike Burlington!"

With this introduction, the screen disappeared, the lighting changed again, now fully illuminating the table, from which all the dishes had been cleared, and suddenly all six of the dancers-waiters reappeared, again totally nude. The dark haired guy that had so impressed Joe during the 'undressing' took Mike by the hand, and led him up the short stairs to the stage, and then the few steps across the little runway to the table top around which his best friends were gathered. The kid pulled off the cotton robe that Mike had still had loosely on, and Mike stood there nude and glorious with his legs widely spread.

Even though I myself am endlessly and continuously fascinated by my young uncle's beauty, and for years and years - in fact since I learned to beat off - he has been the ideal image of sexuality for me, I do not propose her to describe him once again in detail, for I have done so often in the past in the account of how I first became sexually intimate with Mike, my idol all my life, "Cross-Country with My Uncle Mike." But suffice it to say that he was the most beautiful man I had ever seen, from his blond hair and deep blue eyes to his broad shoulders and boyish waist. With his big chest, with its mat of hair, his large arms and legs, covered with crisp golden hair, he was a vision of masculine sexuality. Between his legs lay the center of my sexual universe, his large fat cock arising from a forest of dark blond hair, and his big manly balls. But it was something beyond his physical characteristics that made him beloved of all who knew him. It was in his friendly smile, his kindly nature, his animal grace, his unaffected bearing. It was something close to mystical. And best of all, I knew to a deep certainty that he loved me profoundly, and that, whether examined critically or merely "felt," our love gave every evidence of being inalienable and lifelong.

As the Beatles' "Oh, Darling" began playing, the other five dancers, still nude, came onto the table, and began the routine they called "The Swarm." The first guy, the one who had led Mike onto the stage and table, knelt down before him, and he took Mike's cock into his hands. By now it was completely erect, and it was an object of great beauty.

(As this was happening, I wondered how many of the eight of us in the party had seen Mike's cock erect? Or for that matter had taken it into his mouth or butt? Though Mike and I had had long conversations during our cross-country trip, he was not the kind of guy to name names. I now knew for sure that he and Jeff had had an intense sexual relationship during all four years in which they were roommates and teammates at Stanford; and I thought it was a good guess that Joe and Z, who openly preferred men to women, had had at least occasional contact with Mike, whom they idolized. I guessed also that somewhere in the course of years Bill (Mike and Jeff's infield teammate and close buddy), might well have had at least a one-night-stand with Mike, and maybe a lot more. I felt very certain that Matt and Hank had probably never even seen him naked before, though it was pretty obvious that Matt had very hungry eyes when it came to Mike: but theirs was a highly important and highly ethical business relationship that they would not would have wished to complicate or jeopardize by intermixing personal sexual relations with it.)

The guy began to kiss Mike's great phallus, first the tip, and then he ran a sequence of kisses down his shaft, eventually burying his nose in Mike's thick pubic hair; and then reversing himself, kissed his way back to the tip; and then he took the entire shaft in his two hands and slowly, slowly jerked him. And soon he pressed the tip of Mike's cock between his lips and let it slowly force open his mouth, such that his lips slowly and firmly slid across the broad expanse of his glans, and his entire cockhead disappeared into the guy's mouth, and he began slow, methodical and rhythmical fellatio.

Meanwhile, each of the other five dancers had chosen their own points of attack. One girl knelt and began a gentle worship of his right leg, kissing and stroking it, very artfully and athletically not only with her hands, but also with her beautiful breasts. And another of the girl dancers did the same with his left leg, and she gave herself the pleasure of parting her legs and rubbing her cunt up and down his calf, an act requiring an impressive degree of flexibility. Brian, the guy we'd first met in our 'undressing room' approached Mike from the rear, and gracefully bending his knees just a bit, introduced his impressive erection between Mike's legs, so that it was pressing into the dense tangle of hair there, and at the same time its tip was gently massaging Mike's scrotum from the rear. He nuzzled close to Mike, so that he caressed Mike's entire back with his trunk, and, reaching around to the front, his hands played up and down Mike's belly, from his pubic hair to a few inches above his navel. The remaining girl seized Mike's right arm, and began stroking it, while leaning forward a bit over the others who were kneeling, to place gentle kisses on his right chest and nipple. The remaining boy took Mike's left hand and placed it around his cock, and then drew as close as he could without interfering with the others, and stroked Mike's left arm, and, like the girl, kissed and licked his chest on the left side, and planted kisses on his left nipple.

Mike was enveloped by stroking, kissing beautiful youths. Though much of his body was hard to view under their insistent attentions, interestingly his face was entirely exposed, and we could all see the plain evidence of delight written there.

As he began to breathe more shallowly, if regularly, Joe and Z shouted "Attaboy, Mike!" and "You go, dude!" He looked around and met the eyes of his best friends in all the world, one after another, and smiled broadly.

Presently, however, we were surprised in that the Swarm Team, eased up a little, and pulling on his hands, and pushing on his shoulders, indicated to him that he was to recline on the table, which he did, so that he was right immediately in our faces. 

There was a shift from the fellator to a fellatrix, as Donna, the blonde with shoulder-length hair, knelt between Mike's legs. The other five now surrounded him, mostly on their all fours. One leaned over his chest and licked and kissed his right pec; another his left, while stroking his arm. Two others took charge of his long hairy legs, well splayed; and the last kissed and licked his neck and chin and face. Lila was straddling his right arm, and his hand remained free. It was within inches of me, and in a moment he caught my eye, smiled at me, and signaled to me with his fingers to grasp his hand, which I did with my right hand. It was for me an incredibly erotic experience, just to feel his hand in mine, knowing that he chose to share this strange and wonderful experience with me in this way.




Alice, My Uncle, & Me Ch. 03c



Donna knew that he was down to the 'short strokes,' and she removed her mouth and with the simple command, "Clear" advised the rest of the team to retire, so that all his friends had a clear view of Mike's culmination. She definitely had done this before and she knew exactly what she was doing. Since Mike had already cum twice previously tonight, it was unremarkable that his ejaculate amounted this time to merely a copious cream in Donna's hand and on his furry belly. But it was met with a chorus of shouts and cheers from his buddies, and he smiled broadly, even as he was panting.

Mike said, "Hey, do Mikey this way!" Jason, who evidently was the leader of the team consulted briefly with Matt, the host. Evidently what Mike asked for would be an extra service, not specified in the bill of fare that Matt had contracted for. I heard Matt say, "Okay, fine, no problem. But who's the very best on the team?" Jason seemed to indicate Juan, the guy with the charming brown skin and dark eyes, and Matt said, "Okay, do it."

As Mike rose from the table, Elvin Bishop's "Fooled Around and Fell in Love," began playing, and Juan lead me up the stairs to the stage and onto the table, and there took my robe, leaving me standing there just as my uncle had stood, absolutely nude except for my white socks. Of course, though the procedure was more or less identical to Mike's, it was fundamentally and radically different to experience it rather than to witness it. It's impossible to describe the feeling of having these six firm and absolutely perfect youths kiss, suck, lick and stroke almost every part of my body - simultaneously! I was truly almost sensually overloaded, and during the Mavericks' rendition of "True Love Ways," I thought my knees might buckle. What Juan was doing to my cock was unfuckingbelievable. With all the sensual interference I could not really filter out exactly what he was doing with his lips and tongue, but it was truly "Almost Paradise," in the words of Mike Reno and Anne Wilson's power ballad that played next. This was the signal for the team to lay me down on the tabletop. Just as Mike had done with me, I found my uncle's hand, and, even though completely overwhelmed by carnal sensations, and barely aware of my surroundings, once I had my hand safely in his, there came over me a sort of spiritual higher consciousness that drifted over my corporeal substance, and I felt that he and I were as connected as if he was fucking me. It supercharged everything else, if that can be believed.

Suddenly I almost blacked out. Perhaps I did for just a second or two, because the next thing I remember was the sensation of a stream of my warm cum on my stomach above and just below my navel, and rowdy cheers from all the guys. Like Mike, I too was panting. Over me, beautiful Juan was smiling, and helping me up.

Bizarrely, it was now time for dessert. No, real dessert! Small servings of hazelnut daquoise, crispy and ethereal, on a crème anglais, with just a little puddle of coulis de framboise, accompanied by a rare Sauterne. It was absurd overkill, and I had no interest whatsoever, but just to be polite, I took a small bite. I thought I had never tasted anything so sublime. Matt's thoughtfulness did extend to the portion size, because there was hardly more than two or three small bites on the plate anyway.

The evening was nearly done. There remained only the finale, and here, after our Swarm experiences, Mike and I opted out as direct participants, and by now Joe, who was first among us to have jacked off to conclusion, and who had in any case drunk rather more than the rest of us, seemed to have passed out. But the remaining six of the guys were ready to give it the college try just one more time. Each of the six performers took one of the guests, and pulled his chair away from the table, and pressing a spring, released its back so that it reclined. Kneeling before their clients, they proceeded to use their expertise to bring these nearly exhausted guys to one more high-quality climax.

Jeff had drawn the services of Jason. Jason, perceptive beyond his years, took Jeff's left hand and put it right into Mike's right hand; and he signaled to me to come and stand on Jeff's right, and he gave me Jeff's hand to hold, which I grasped easily in my own right hand. And with that, Jason went to work on Jeff, stroking and kissing his face, his chest, his belly; stroking his remarkably hairy legs, and finally kneeling between his legs, and concentrating on his cock. Considering the amount of wear and tear it had had tonight, it was in pretty impressive shape. I do not doubt that the quality of his erection had more than a little to do with the fact that Mike was at his side, holding Jeff's hand in his. And judging from his not infrequent squeezes of my hand, Jeff wanted me to be part of his experience too, something that I was quite willing to do.

Considering the individual circumstances of the six guests, and the number of times they had come, and the amount of wine they had drunk, despite the professionalism of "Team Fellatio," it was not surprising that there was a good deal of raggedness in the final outcome. While Jeff had a very high quality erection and a near perfect conclusion, the same could not be said for the rest. I'm not sure that Hank ever finally came again, despite Lila's professional arts, and Z's last orgasm was evidently rather mediocre even though it was Juan who had him in charge.

It was by now 1.30, and we were all pretty tapped out. As Matt tipped the staff very generously, we made our way to the dressing rooms, and we all felt that we had had a damn good party - all except Joe, who was completely unconscious. 



Alice, My Uncle, & Me Ch. 04a



This continues the account of the of five days and nights that studly 18 year old Mikey spends together with Mike, the 24-year old uncle he idolizes, and Mike's fascinating and beautiful 22-year old fiancée Alice. The beginning of their story is told in "Cross-Country with My Uncle," and continued by "Alice, My Uncle, and Me," day 1 and day 2, and Day 3, parts 1 and 2, and "My Uncle's Bachelor Party," parts 1 and 2, wherein Jeff, Mike's old college roommate and lover, is introduced.

The trip back from Mike's bachelor party was rather different from the journey there, now more than seven hours later. Instead of the convivial -- no, raucous - atmosphere of late afternoon, it was now quiet in the wide-body limo. Joe had to be carried in, and he was laid on one of the forward seats, gently snoring. Hank and Matt chatted in a desultory fashion for a while before Hank dropped off, and soon Matt was dozing too. Dunc and Z and Bill were sort of quietly recapping some of the highlights of the evening until they too drifted off.

I was on the big rear bench with Mike and Jeff, and I could hardly hold my eyes open. Mike gestured to Jeff to scoot over to the left end of the seat, and he moved quite close to him - actually they were shoulder to shoulder and leg to leg now - leaving much of the seat available for me to lie down. Mike patted his lap, and I lay down on my side and put my head comfortably in his lap. In fact, it was remarkably comfortable there. He was wearing shorts, and when I put down my head, they rode up somewhat, and my face was partly snuggled in the thick, golden hair of his thigh, and only a thin layer or two of fabric separated my face from his big, fat cock. In such remarkable proximity I strongly registered his very masculine scent. As an added comfort, I had my fingertips of my right hand a little under the hem of his polo shirt and lightly on his firm and very hairy abs, while on his part, in quiet conversation with Jeff, he idly and lightly stroked my hair and face.

In fact I couldn't have been more comfortable, and soon I was breathing slowly and steadily, and Mike and Jeff quite reasonably assumed I was asleep.

But actually, I was in an oddly relaxed state between wakefulness and sleep. I couldn't seem to move the slightest muscle, but actually, I wasn't asleep, not really, and I could hear every word that Mike and Jeff exchanged, even though they were talking quietly.

Soon the conversation turned to me. In his soft and mellow East Texas accent, Jeff said, " He's a very impressive kid, Mike. Incredibly good-looking, great body. When I first saw Mikey at the airport today, I could hardly believe it. He's the exact image of you when I first met you during our first day at Stanford as freshmen. Honestly, if you gave me a snapshot of him today and you then, I don't know if I could tell you apart, no matter how well I know you."

Mike said, "Well, actually that already sorta happened tonight. One of the shots in Mikey's slide show - I don't know if you remember it, but it's where a kid is receiving a medal at a swim meet - yeah, I got a medal like that, but that shot wasn't of me, it was of Mikey. I don't know if it was a little private joke of his, or whether he and my mom, when sorting through the old photos, just didn't know the difference."

"No shit! Well, I'm not surprised," said Jeff. "But what also amazes me is how much he reminds me of you in other ways. His poise and grace, his modesty, his attention to others, his kindly humor. And he always seems to have a sense of just the right thing to say in any context. He handled himself well tonight, even among a lot of people he'd never met before. His presentation was graceful and hit just the right note, and all night long he seemed to say and do just the right thing. He's a remarkable kid." And he was awesome up there during the "swarm."

"Well - and I could almost hear a smile in Mike's voice - thanks, guy, that's kind of you to say; and yeah, I know what you mean. Actually, there's a lot more to him than you might imagine. He's really, truly, a gifted athlete. I'm sure he'll be in line for a baseball scholarship, possibly at Stanford; and of course you know he's really a smart kid. You and I led our respective classes back in high school, but he's really talented. I don't think you've had a good chance to talk with him but you'll find he's got a lot on the ball."

"But," he continued, "the best thing about him is that he's so damn sweet natured. He's always been that way. And he and I have had a remarkably perfect relationship practically since the day he was born. Almost nothing has given me more pleasure over the years than to spend time with him."

"So," after a few seconds, Jeff thoughtfully continued, "how long have you been fucking?"

"Oh, it's that easy to tell, is it?" Mike replied. "Fact of the matter is - and I'm not sure it's any of your business, ole buddy - that no matter how close we've been over the years, we've never laid a hand on one another - not in a sexual way - until this trip out west. But beginning with the truck trip a week ago, it's been very intense. He's an awesome lay. Though he's entirely inexperienced with men, he's a sexual natural. He just 'gets' it. He intuitively understands other people's needs and preferences; and since he's been fucking women for years now, he also understands the benefits of the slow and easy, that the subtle has its place alongside the vigorous and direct. But the main thing is that, frankly, we've loved each other forever in a really profound way, and our sex just deepens and immeasurably enriches a relationship that has always been of prime importance to both of us."

"And of course," said Jeff, "he's an incredible babe. Seeing him tonight, whether in the dressing room, or beside you at the table, or, especially up on stage, I couldn't believe what an appealing youth he is, with his beautiful body and his amiable mien, his winning smile - and his big fat dick! And I gotta tell you, his holding my hand during the final fellatio session was an extra kick for me. I could come to like this kid a lot."

Hearing all this, I was remarkably warmed, but in the odd and sort of magical circumstances, I couldn't have - and in any case didn't want to - move a muscle, even to smile slightly, but continued to breathe deeply and regularly.

"Alice doesn't mind?" Jeff inquired.

"Doesn't mind? She's crazy about him. He's very discreet, attentive, and skilled beyond his years, and Alice just loves having him in the bed with us."

"Well, what I really meant was, Alice doesn't mind you and him, you know -- ."

"No, Alice has nothing to worry about, and she knows it."

They continued talking quietly and intimately but that's the last thing I remember. Next thing I recall I'm being gently shaken awake in front of Mike's apartment building. Though I was groggy, I did remember my manners enough to thank Matt very heartily and sincerely for the magnificent party. He was very modest and gracious in accepting my thanks and the much warmer thanks that Mike offered. Hell, that party ought to go down in the annals of great bachelor parties of all time.

Back in the apartment, I found had had been surprisingly revived by my nap. Never a big drinker, I'd tried to be quite moderate in my intake tonight, despite the elegance of the wines and the conviviality of the occasion.

Mike dispelled the possibility of any confusion or uncertainty about sleeping arrangements by a simple, direct statement. "We'll use this bed," gesturing incidentally at his king-sized bed, and without more ado, he proceeded to pull back the covers, kick off his shoes, pull off his shirt and shorts and under shorts, and thus in a moment he was absolutely nude, and standing beside the bed. As always, he was unbelievably beautiful. The seraphic smile across his incredibly handsome face; his large limbs, covered with crisp golden hair; his big chest, so well defined despite its thick golden mat; his rippling abs, with its thick trail of darker blond hair leading to his very hairy belly, whence arose his eight-inch cock, a wonder of beauty and perfection, from its flaring hood to its thick, veiny root: for me essentially the most precious thing in the world.

Jeff had been waiting for months for Mike to fuck him again for the first time in two years, and he knew for a certainty that it was going to happen. But it wasn't going to happen quite as quickly as he thought or as he hoped.

Yes, it had been two years since Mike and Jeff had been together. But in the four years prior to that, living as roommates at Stanford, they had had sex together a hundred ways and a thousand times. And despite all that had passed between them, surrounding Alice, they still loved each other very deeply. And even before Jeff arrived, I had known that he hungered for Mike's familiar body, his familiar comforts; and that he desperately missed his place at the center of Mike's heart. And in the hours since his arrival, everything I had seen confirmed me in this knowledge.

So when Jeff stripped off his clothes, he revealed not only a remarkably great body - long, lean, highly muscular; with his amazing legs covered thickly in dark hair, extending all the way up to the top of his thighs and merging, really, with the hair of his lower belly; his well-developed pecs strewn with still more, as were his arms - but that he was, even after all tonight's excess, more than ready for a long-deferred sexual reunion with Mike. His large phallus - essentially similar to ours in length and girth - was absolutely erect, and evidently as hard as iron, with his cockhead distended to the point of shininess, his veins of his shaft remarkably defined and prominent.

As for Mike, I knew that he too longed for Jeff, whom he unquestionably loved: for his company, for his consortium, for his great body, for his intimate touch, for what Alice had termed their very hot sex. But only on his, Mike's, terms.

As soon as he approached the bedside, Jeff slowly turned to Mike and took his face in his hands and gently kissed Mike's lips. Mike responded by enfolding Jeff in his powerful arms, and then slid them slowly down Jeff's broad back, down and down, until he was holding Jeff's round, perfect butt in his hands, his fingers, each of them notably garnished with golden tufts at the first joint, roaming through the dark hair that grew in orderly swirls on Jeff's butt. His fingertips slowly played up and down the crack, where the hair that grew on either side came together in a still denser tangle.

Their embrace was a thing of intense beauty. They were not so much comely youths as beautiful, perfectly formed powerful men, both of them, and very nearly matched: They were within a fraction of an inch of being the same height, and their years of athletic training had developed their arms and shoulders and backs and legs to essentially the same degree: very well muscled, but in a lithe and economical and balanced way, with nothing of the strange - even grotesque - over development that can characterizes the "bodybuilder." Mike's legs, thickly covered in golden hair, bracketed Jeff's left leg; and Jeff's legs, equally covered in dark hair, clasped Mike's left leg, and at many points, the dark and golden fleeces intermingled.

They gently swayed and even rotated a little, as their embrace continued. Jeff was the busier one when it came to their kiss, as by turns he nibbled and sucked and probed, while Mike's familiar but always strikingly beautiful arms slowly ranged up and down Jeff's back from the breadth of his shoulders and lats to his boyish waist and trim hips and heavily-muscled butt.

Eventually, their slow, almost unconscious rotation brought another view to me, that from their sides. They were fully tangent at the chests, their big pecs firmly together, Mike's (I knew, though I could not see) thickly matted with gold; and Jeff's strewn liberally with dark hair. But there was a little space between their trim abs, and I briefly glimpsed their twin cocks, heavily erect, both of them, the embrace necessarily resulting in their being crushed together side-by-side.

Apart from its just incredible beauty, the other thing remarkable about their embrace was its slow luxury. It seemed timeless to me as each man savored the intensity of being once again physically reunited with his old friend, caressing and being caressed by knowing and familiar hands.

Eventually Jeff broke the embrace, pushing Mike away just slightly, just enough to kiss his way down Mike's neck, and then his furry chest - kissing and sucking on first Mike's left nipple and then his right - and then, slowly and gracefully coming into what became a kneeling posture as he kissed his way down Mike's washboard of a belly, through his thick, dark blond hair, approaching ever nearer to Mike's upright cock. Jeff took Mike's big, smooth cockhead between his lips and began a luxuriant genital kiss, in an act no doubt long cherished by both of them.

This morning I had expressed to Alice my anxiety about Jeff's return, and I had told her of my intense jealousy of Jeff, and of the relationship he and Mike had shared for so long. Now, right before my eyes, I saw this beautiful and incredibly multitalented guy in a powerfully erotic embrace with his dear friend, my uncle, the love of my life. Yet, though I would not have predicted it, my jealousy and my anxiety had greatly waned in the course of the day. First I had taken to heart Alice's sage advice of early this morning, based upon her doubtlessly accurate assessment of Mike's feelings for me - and his persisting concerns about Jeff's adaptability to Mike's complex web of social and sexual relationships. Then, soon afterward, Mike had, in the shower and in the wonderful sex that followed, had implicitly reassured me, unambiguously. And again and again in the course of the day, he had, right before Jeff, displayed the special relationship we now had, ranging from his light touches in his living room to the more dramatic events of the bachelor party, when even the midst of the most intense sexual episode, when he was being 'swarmed,' he had reached out to grasp my hand, and shared it with me; and he had impulsively singled me out to undergo the same experience, and again we shared it - to a degree - with another warm and powerful interlocking of hands. And I recalled - actually I would never forget - his remarks to Jeff about me as I lay in his lap, ostensibly asleep, words that I would treasure forever.

As for Jeff, how could I not like him? In the last twelve hours we had been constantly together in circumstances of great intimacy, and he had always behaved toward me with the greatest consideration and respect and kindness. When he was being luxuriously fellated in the last act of the party, he reached out to me to share it with. His quiet remarks in the limo, too, when he didn't know I could hear, had deeply touched my heart.

And of course he was remarkably handsome and hugely appealing, everything about him, from his soft and easy cultivated East Texas accent, to his understated and ironic sense of humor. He was unbelievably interesting - and of course I knew all about his many skills and exploits as Mike's teammate and friend. I was in fact quite fascinated by him.

So as I watched these two old friends begin what I knew would be an intense sexual reunion, my anxiety levels were lower than I could possibly have imagined only twelve hours ago.

At this point, however, just as Jeff began his skilled worship of Mike's rigid cock, with its beautiful cockhead, the network of veins up and down the shaft, the slight inward curve that the intensity of his erection imparted to it, to my amazement - and to Jeff's shock and dismay - Mike gently pushed him away, put his hands in Jeff's armpits and raised him up again, upright. He took Jeff's face in his hands, gave him a firm, but deliberately brief kiss on the lips, and said, simply - though shockingly - "Later."

With no further explanation, Mike approached the bed where I had been laying and studying their every move, only inches from where they'd stood.

Mike lay down next to me, and began kissing my face, and stroking my chest. I was extremely responsive, and returned his kisses and his strokes. Again, he was deliberate as he was sensuous. Now, with his knees between my legs and supporting his body over mine with his arms on either side of my chest, he began kissing my chest, achingly slowly, working his tongue through the whorls of fine, yellow hair. I placed my hands softly on his head, but he took a moment to take first my left hand in his hands, and put it onto the bed, and then the right, so that I was now in a spread-eagle position, and he signaled me not to move. He returned to his kissing and licking of my chest, gently, and then and my nips, one after the other, and he worked his way down my abs, licking and kissing it, through the line of fur down to my to my intensely erect cock arising from its dense blond bush. Kneeling between my legs now, he took my cock into his lips, as he threaded his fingers deeply through my pubic hair. 

Presently with his left hand, he gently hefted and cupped my balls, while with his right hand he grasped my shaft, all the while working my cockhead with his lips and tongue.

This was the beginning of an epically wonderful episode, as he used his hands and his mouth slowly and knowingly to pleasure me a thousand ways it seemed. Licking and sucking, stroking and touching, blowing and nibbling, my cockhead, my shaft, my balls, my perineum, my belly, as I lay there essentially motionless, the object of his adoration and love. Had it been some beautiful stranger fellating me I might have been in ecstasy under such ministrations; but no, this was my uncle, my idol, the love of my life now carrying me to heights almost unknown. I wouldn't have thought after all the events of the day that I could possibly have been so responsive, so hard, and that the experience could have been so intense. But it was so.

To what degree was my response due to the fact that all this was taking place mere inches in front of Jeff, the beautiful and incredibly impressive and multitalented man whom I had so recently feared? Whose urgencies Mike had deferred so shockingly - even after two long years apart - in order to give me the fellation of my life? And who now stood with tears of confusion welling in his beautiful dark eyes as he beheld the scene right before him? I have to say that at the moment I did not exactly understand what was going on, but I was awash in wild emotions of unfettered love for Mike, and yes, admiration for Jeff, and some confused but very strong feelings of gratification to know that even in his passion for Jeff, Mike made room - the best room, really - for me. I felt that I would never be forgotten or ignored by Mike, no matter what kind of distance separated us, nor regardless who else was in his life. And yet I also felt deep satisfaction at Jeff witnessing this intense episode. 

When it came, my climax was almost shattering, as intense as any I could ever recall. With spasm after spasm I expelled jet after jet of semen under the irresistible actions of my uncle. My chest heaved, my limbs trembled, my face flushed, and I could not repress my shouts, "Mike, I love you, I love you, I love you, YES, YES, **YES**, as I came. And yet not a drop of cum was spilled. Mike had used strong suction along with his firm final strokes, so expertly timed, and he had taken into his mouth all my seed. When he kissed me, only a lingering scent of my cum remained on his lips.

I was spent, entirely, and felt that I could not move the tiniest muscle. 

But as I lay there, both fatigued and sublimely at peace, I was extremely attentive to what was going on just a foot or two away.



Alice, My Uncle, & Me Ch. 04b



This continues the account of the of five days and nights that studly 18 year old Mikey spends together with Mike, the 24-year old uncle he idolizes, and Mike's fascinating and beautiful 22-year old fiancée Alice. The beginning of their story is told in "Cross-Country with My Uncle," and continued by "Alice, My Uncle, and Me," day 1 and day 2, and Day 3, parts 1 and 2, and "My Uncle's Bachelor Party," parts 1 and 2, wherein Jeff, Mike's old college roommate and lover, is introduced.

My uncle again turned to Jeff, who had, during Mike's sexual interlude with me, quietly lain on the left side the bed, inches from us, watching with intensity. Now it was his turn. Mike, now standing at the foot of the bed, grasped Jeff's right hand and pulled him up, and they resumed their sensual embrace, and, once more, even in my dreamy state of satiety, I was fascinated by the beauty of the matched pair, and their artful, no doubt well-practiced interplay. Across Jeff's beautiful broad and powerfully muscled back I saw Mike's big forearms with their ropy muscles thickly covered in golden fur, and his big hands, slowly glide, now a firm embrace, now a delicate touch, a fingertip caress. And I watched as again Mike's hands descended to Jeff's fuzzy butt. With each hand he firmly grasped a buttock, and kneaded it gently, and then released it, as again his fingertips played through the dark hair.

They shifted slightly, and now I could study their enduring kiss. Jeff's lower lip was between Mike's lips; and now, with Jeff's head slightly tilted, their mouths were open and pressed together, their tongues, no doubt, as intimately interplaying as their big bodies.

Eventually, as before, Jeff broke the embrace, and again began a long series of kisses on Mike's neck, and then his broad breast, lingering over each of his nipples, nestled in his golden chest hair. And then, as before, he slowly worked his way down Mike's trunk and abdomen, now following the thick trail of hair that marked his midline above his navel, now wandering to right or left for kisses and licks. Mike looked down seraphically, and his hands were easily resting on Jeff's shoulders.

For a few moments he reamed out Mike's navel with his tongue, before he began his descent into Mike's heavily furred belly. Now Mike's big hands were on Jeff's head, gently stroking his dark hair, and Jeff, now kneeling on the carpet, began an elaborate lovemaking to Mike's big, rigid cock, standing upright, almost cleaving to his belly.

At first Jeff took the big phallus in both his hands, and applied delicate kisses to the swollen cockhead, now at its fullest extension, and virtually glossy. After some little time, he moved his left hand to grasp Mike's balls. Though his hand was large, it was not large enough to enfold Mike's dangling testicles, and he was only able to hold them in an open hand. With his other hand he caressed Mike's lower belly, and with his practiced mouth he engulfed more and more of Mike's imposing shaft, one veiny quarter inch after another slowly disappearing between Jeff's wide stretched lips. Up and down, he slowly went again and again, and again and again. The expression on Mike's face was a thing of beauty. It wasn't the rictus of a grin; it wasn't a look of victorious triumph; it wasn't a priapic leer. It was a beatific smile that engaged his whole face. His dimples were deep, his eyes were crinkled and smiling, there was a certain tilt of the head: all indications that he was looking with deep love upon his dear friend whose intimate sexual ministrations signified the same deep love in return. Tears came to my eyes. Not now of jealousy, but of simple appreciation for this beautiful mutuality between these two heroic friends.

And now Jeff returned his right hand partially to encircle Mike's phallus, and he added slow, firm stroking to the artful work of his lips and tongue. On and on it went, until Mike's tender smile was succeeded by an unmistakable look of urgency, and finally Mike gave a gentle push to Jeff's head, almost imperceptible to me, but sufficient to signal to Jeff that he must desist.

Mike took Jeff's right hand in his, raised him up, and led him to the bed, and following Mike's indication, Jeff lay down on the left side of the big king bed, and as soon as he had lain down, Mike joined him, both of them now mere inches from where I lay in fascinated repose.

Once again it was Mike positioning himself over the large and powerful body of the object of his amorous attentions, now Jeff instead of me. Jeff lay on his back, and Mike, supporting himself on his knees (between Jeff's powerful hirsute thighs), and on his hands, placed on either side of Jeff's big chest, began to kiss the features of Jeff's remarkably handsome face, beginning with his eyebrows, eyelids, nose, and ears, and continuing along his jaw line, cheeks, and chin. And then he covered Jeff's neck with kisses, and worked his way along Jeff's shoulders, starting with his traps. And so it continued, slowly and deliberately as Mike covered Jeff everywhere, it seemed, with kisses, and nowhere more than his chest, his nipples, erect and poking through the dark hair.

On and on it went with Mike smothering Jeff's midsection with passionate kisses, while Jeff's long and powerful fingers gently stroked Mike's hair and ears. He murmured almost ceaselessly, "Oh, Mike, Mike, you're wonderful, you're killing me with pleasure; Oh, Mike, Oh, oh, Mike. Yes, Yes, God, yes. Oh, it's been so long."

Finally Mike arrived at Jeff's cock, hard as marble, the cockhead standing well above his navel. At this point, Mike grew more deliberate, abandoning the caprice he had used in covering Jeff's trunk with kisses. He was infinitely delicate at first, blanketing the cockhead and shaft with tiny kisses; then licks, and only then did he grasp the shaft gently but firmly in his hand, and slowly forced his moist lips open as they slid across the taut and smooth surface of Jeff's glans. He used his hands and his mouth in close coordination, in a slow ritual no doubt long practiced between them, perfected over years and years of loving experience. At times there was no obvious up and down motion at all, but clearly Mike was working his tongue over the most reactive and sensitive parts of Jeff's phallus, and Jeff was trembling with the intensity of it all, no longer able to speak or even murmur. But he could ball his left hand into a fist, and relax it, and repeat.

Jeff's right hand had long ago sought my left arm, as I lay beside him, and he'd grasped my wrist firmly. But I had shifted his hand from my wrist to my hand, so that my left hand was enfolded in his. Apart from curling and uncurling his toes, and balling and unballing his left hand, his rhythmic pressure on my hand was virtually the only motion he allowed himself, otherwise wholly giving himself up to Mike's tender mercies.

How much longer Jeff could stand Mike's hugely artful fellation? I strongly suspected that Mike knew exactly how to ease up, and move on to less excruciating stimulation, so as to extend their lovemaking over an indefinite period of time. 

Eventually there came a point where Mike pulled his mouth away, and once again I could see Jeff's beautiful phallus in its marmoreal splendor, all of it.

Mike, now erect upon his knees, began to stroke Jeff's large and hairy thighs, his right hand on Jeff's left thigh, his right wandering over Jeff's left, making now lazy circles, now longitudinal strokes, and eventually arriving at Jeff's knees, and then his strikingly defined calves, working his fingers through the dense dark hair.

Mike moved back a bit in an easy motion, and murmured, "Turn over, buddy."

Despite his best will, Jeff could not obey instantly, still ensorcelled and almost paralyzed by Mike's gentle, deliberate lovemaking; but he managed to shake off Mike's spell enough to roll over, easily and slowly, so that he was now on his elbows and knees, his cheek against the pillow. From long experience, he knew exactly the posture to adopt.

Mike, still on his knees, drew very, very close to Jeff, and covered him with his body, placing one arm on either side of Jeff's legs, and blanketing Jeff's broad and heavily-muscled back with kisses and licks. As he did so, the tip of Mike's erect cock teased and massaged Jeff's balls, hanging between his furry legs. Mike took infinite care and no haste. But bit-by-bit he moved from Jeff's shoulders to the middle of his back, and then the small of his back, and then he moved into the area of dense silky hair that covered Jeff's buttocks, kissing and licking. As close to the action as I was, it was easy to hear Jeff's quiet sighs.

As he worked on Jeff's rear, Mike was no longer bent over Jeff's back, and he no longer needed to support himself with both arms as before, and he added tender stroking to his continuous kissing all over Jeff's butt. By now Mike had begun to focus on the Jeff's furry crack, and deliberately worked his way down to Jeff's anus with his tongue, even as he used his right hand gently to grasp and stroke Jeff's scrotum.

As Mike grew ever closer to Jeff's puckered rosebud, Jeff's sighs became moans. "Oh, Mike, Mike, Mike."

Finally, Mike had arrived at his target, and he used first tiny darts with the tip of his pointed tongue. Only with the fullness of time did his actions grow a little larger and more generous. Jeff went, "Oh Mike, I love you so much. I've missed you so much. You're killing me, just killing me. I love you so very, very much."

Mike paused only briefly enough to mutter, "Me, too, Jeffy, me too."

And he resumed. Actually, as close as I was to the action, and absolutely entranced, I could no longer apprehend the exact details, for Mike's actions were not gross and large-scale, but continued to be rather delicate, and so entirely intimate that I could not view the contact point at all directly. All I could see was Mike's beautiful face, or part of it, the rest buried in Jeff's fundament. I could not quite tell just how invasive, how intimate, were the actions of Mike's tongue. But I had some pretty direct evidence. I could see Mike's head movements on the one hand, and, even more dramatically, I could hear Jeff's ever more insistent moans and little cries, and it was clear that Mike was totally focused on his target.

"Oh, Mike, I love you, I'll always love you, you're killing me, just killing me."

And then, urgently, "Mike, fuck me. Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me. I'm begging you, I can't take it any more, fuck me, please, please, please, PLEASE."

This continued for long minutes, and finally, finally, Mike pulled away a little from Jeff's butt, now with the thick dark hair wetted and plastered down to the skin, and he merely touched him on the buttock with the forefinger and middle finger of his right hand, gently, twice in rapid succession.

This time, Jeff was amazingly prompt to react to their old signal, and he rolled over at once, raising his big left leg high in the air to avoid hitting Mike, and then settled quickly onto his back, with Mike now kneeling between his legs.

Stroking gently and lovingly, Mike grasped Jeff's legs by the ankles and set them on his own body, so that Jeff's legs were bent at the knees, his feet were more or less supported partly by Mike's pecs and partly by his biceps - in effect almost in Mike's armpits.

He already had lube handy and he'd expressed a generous dollop into his left palm. With the fingers of his right hand he applied a fair amount to Jeff's anus, using a gentle swirling motion, and then applied the rest to his big cock, spreading it all over from the tip to the root.

The inevitable sequelae to these preparations began at once, as Mike introduced his cockhead slowly and deliberately into Jeff's body. By easy and measured stages Mike advanced and withdrew, each stroke a fraction deeper than its predecessor, until all of Mike's cock had disappeared. With his now very slick right hand, he grasped Jeff's cock, but carefully now, to avoid an unwanted early approach to the point of no return.

After several strokes, which had left a wide grin pasted on Jeff's face, Mike quietly remarked to me, "Mikey, dial Allie's number, and then hand me the phone."

*   *   *

"Hi, Sweetie! Just wanted to call and let you know we're back safe, and we had a great time."

I think Jeff was dumbfounded at Mike's action, calling Allie right in the middle of their extremely passionate and long-delayed sexual reunion. But he said nothing, and lay quietly, even as he was penetrated completely by Mike's big phallus, right up to the hilt; and even with Mike's big furry paw grasping his own big, insistent cock. I studied his face, and the expression of near ecstasy had been replaced by a strange quizzical look, and I thought I saw evidence of moisture in his beautiful dark eyes.

"Oh, wow, it was incredible. I'll give you chapter and verse tomorrow, every single detail. And by the way, you vixen, there's only one way Matt could have gotten that tape from English Crafty Hands! That was a big surprise!

"Well, yeah, they all did enjoy it. But it was still something I never had thought would see the light of day."

"Yes, he arrived right on time, and we've had a super great time catching up. And he and Mikey are getting to know one another. As a matter of fact, I'm fucking him this very second, and it's very, very sweet, especially after all this time. I've missed him so much. You know how very much I love him."

At this, a new expression played across Jeff's face. Even though he had been near to weeping, now there was instead a broad smile, and the crinkling of his now smiling eyes forced out and down his cheeks the tears that had been welling there.

"Yes, sure, of course, Allie," Mike said, and he passed the phone to Jeff.

Jeff murmured, "Hi, Allie. It's been a long time."

Then, after a moment, "Thanks, Allie, that's very kind of you to say. I feel the same way."

And then, after another pause, "Sure, Allie, I'd love to." And then, "Do you want me to put Mike back on? OK, take care."

And then, passing the phone back to Mike, he lay back, still profoundly impaled by Mike's big cock, and his own cock, in Mike's gentle hand, which had been moving only very, very subtly during the conversation, as rock-hard as ever.

Mike, back on with Allie, said, "Okay, darling, Love you. See you soon."

With this, Mike handed the phone to me to hang up, and then bent down to kiss Jeff's right nipple, and then his left. And then, as he resumed his very slow, deliberate pumping of his cock up Jeff's rear, he stroked Jeff's furry right calf with his left hand, and with his right hand, resumed working Jeff's cock with somewhat larger strokes. Meanwhile the two dear old friends and practiced lovers locked their eyes with a passionate intensity. Passionate, yes, but it was a passion that was a true compound of engrossing affection as much as sexuality.

I watched, absolutely fascinated, as Mike fucked his dear old friend with a tender love. It was a slow and generous reaming, really remarkably slow and deliberate. Mike suspended stroking Jeff's phallus, and even slowed his fucking action more and more until it was exquisitely deliberate. Jeff, his eyes as ever locked with Mike's, whispered "Oh, Mike, I love you, I love you. I'll love you no matter what. Always."

Mike ceased all action, smiled even more widely, and said, "And Jeffy, I'll always love you, more than you can even imagine."

Then he resumed his lovemaking to his dear old friend, a more serious look upon his face, one of intense engagement with Jeff. And began working Jeff's cock a little more steadily, as they began to approach the inevitable.

But Mike once more ceased stroking Jeff's phallus, and slowed his fucking almost but not quite to a standstill, and their lovemaking was then concentrated mainly in their focused gaze. Presently, Mike again resumed a steadier flexing of his butt, and then for a final time, grasped Jeff's amazing cock with his hand, and within another 90 seconds Jeff profoundly exhaled, he deeply sighed, "Oh, Mike!" and a stream of cum spread over his fuzzy washboard abs, and then another, under Mike's ever so practiced and deliberate grasp; and with a still deeper plunge of his great cock into Jeff's body, Mike trembled, almost to the point of spasm, and he too was done, and slowly withdrew.

Mike crawled into the bed between his old friend and me, and bid me turn out the bedside light as he engaged Jeff in a full-body embrace, clasping his head to Mike's chest, their legs in a fuzzy tangle.

As for me, tangent to my uncle's long body in half a dozen places, I was extremely comfortable and cozy and now overcome by sleep.



Alice, My Uncle, & Me Ch. 04c



This continues the account of the of five days and nights that studly 18 year old Mikey spends together with Mike, the 24-year old uncle he idolizes, and Mike's fascinating and beautiful 22-year old fiancée Alice. The beginning of their story is told in "Cross-Country with My Uncle," and continued by "Alice, My Uncle, and Me," day 1 and day 2, and Day 3, parts 1 and 2, and "My Uncle's Bachelor Party," parts 1 and 2, wherein Jeff, Mike's old college roommate and lover, is introduced.

About 5.45 am, I swam into consciousness, and in the early dawn light I gazed with affection and interest (in lieu of jealousy) at Jeff, poised on his hands and knees above Mike's big body, gently kissing Mike's big chest in a dozen places, and then slowly making his way down the trail of hair on the midline of his trunk, in the early morning light seeming dark rather than blond (as I knew it to be), as he bestowed another hundred kisses on Mike's abs and belly. Now on his knees between Mike's legs, he began a new fellation, and once again Mike placed his big hands gently on Jeff's head. Lying there quietly, I wondered how many other things they'd done in the night, while I slumbered; and then, casting the question more broadly, how many times in the last years they had pleasured each other. And then I wondered, how they had come to be intimate in the first place.

I watched in fascination. Jeff had, it seemed, dozens of ways of kissing, sucking, licking his old partner. It was beautiful. Though I hadn't moved a (voluntary) muscle, naturally I was absolutely rock hard.

Glancing over at me, Mike smiled, and quietly said, "You're awake, aren't you?" I nodded slightly.

Jeff suspended his lovemaking to Mike just long enough to say, kindly, "You're next. I'll be with you soon."



But he was entirely unhurried. It was an intense pleasure to watch Jeff use his practiced arts upon my uncle, and it was, by the clock, 40 minutes more before he brought Mike to rapturous conclusion, causing his big body to convulse once, and then again, as he filled Jeff's mouth with seed.

Mike may have been temporarily exhausted, but Jeff was not. He told me to lie alongside my uncle, so that Mike's left arm and leg legs were touching my right arm and leg. Jeff knelt on my left side, and began softly kissing and stroking my chest, and then belly, and then thighs, and then calves, and finally my feet. As he systematically reversed himself, and moved back up my calves and thighs, here and there he gently tugged at my prolific golden hair, and on my belly. He ruffled through the fine golden hair on my chest that would give way soon (I was almost certain) to a thick mat like my uncle's.

Mike rolled over onto his side to get a better look, and studied Jeff as he began kissing my impossibly rigid big cock, and eventually took the head into his mouth, and with his tongue worked a kind of magic there. Repositioning himself between my legs, he knelt and used his hands and mouth in amazing ways. With his left hand, he cupped my balls - they would have been too large for anyone with a normal sized hand, but Jeff's, like Mike's and mine, was big. And with the fingertips of his right hand, he traced paths along the veins of my shaft, and teased along the well-defined rim of my glans, and then again introduced my cock into his mouth.

With the tips of my fingers I gently caressed the face between my thighs, especially Jeff's cheeks and chin, now bristling with stubble, and in return he gazed up at me in a very friendly fashion. When our eyes met, I felt nothing but affection for him, intermixed with not the slightest tincture of jealousy. And through my head ran the classic line that Dinah Washington made so famous, "What a difference a day makes!" I could hardly believe that 24 hours ago I thought I hated and feared this man.

I was fighting against the testosterone rush of early morning, and besides, I was an 18-year-old, just swimming in it. I know that I could have sustained a slow and easy attack. And as my uncle had told Jeff last night, when it came to others I always tried to be as considerate as I could. But Jeff took mercy on me and did not drag out this early morning workout for more than 20 minutes, and his conclusion was manual, and maximally intense. I came in huge gouts of cum, all over my chest and even face, amazing myself after the kind of experience I'd had in the last 24 hours.

As soon as I was done, Jeff, still kneeling wide-kneed between my legs, caressed his own hairy chest and belly with his left hand, and took his own big cock into his right hand. I reached under his hand and cupped his balls in my palm. He put on a fine show, for his cock was extremely beautiful. He had lubed his hand, and his strokes were tight and slippery, and as each millimeter of his phallus disappeared into his palm (or reappeared from his palm) it was easy to impute the intense pleasure that he was giving himself.

But he worked more or less steadily, as he gazed down on me; and it was only a matter of a few minutes before he lay his own thick line of cum onto my midsection. With that I felt still an additional link of friendship had been forged between us.

We had a busy day in store for us.



Alice, My Uncle, & Me Ch. 04d



This continues the account of the five days and nights that studly 18 year old Mikey spends together with Mike, the 24-year old uncle he idolizes, and Mike's fascinating and beautiful 22-year old fiancée Alice. The beginning of their story is told in "Cross-Country with My Uncle," and continued by "Alice, My Uncle, and Me," day 1 and day 2, and Day 3, parts 1 and 2, and "My Uncle's Bachelor Party," parts 1 and 2, wherein Jeff, Mike's old college roommate and lover, is introduced.

By 8.30 Mike, Jeff, and I had arrived at Alice's. I wasn't quite certain what Alice had said to Jeff on the phone last night, but evidently it was something in the nature of an invitation to have a serious conversation with him. In any case, their reunion was remarkably cordial.

Mike turned to me and said, "Mikey, let's go for a little run." And of course I was very glad to. We went along the path that wound its way down from the back of Alice's townhouse, and it was very pleasant in the June morning, wearing just our running shorts and shoes. Though the last ten days had been incredible in their intensity: the new experiences and new personalities, one thing remained constant: it was the extreme pleasure that I had always taken in Mike's company all my life. And as ever, it was especially wonderful when he and I were alone and I absorbed all his attention. Running alongside of him, it was just sublime. And when he looked over to me and grinned at me, I felt warm and happy, as though I were basking in a beam of purest sunshine. It was a sort of magic.

"Mikey, I have a good feeling about Jeff and Alice. She and I have been over the subject again and again, and she has the best of intentions, but we've had relatively little hope that Jeff would prove to be flexible. But it seems that we may have been mistaken. Since he's been here, Jeff seems to be much mellower than in the past. Anyway, he has accepted Allie's invitation to visit with her, chat with her, and his anxiety when he's with me has entirely dissolved, and, more importantly, there doesn't seem to be any evidence of the kind of bitterness toward Alice that he once could not help but show."

"Gee, I hope so, Uncle," I said. "I really like him."

"Well, you hardly know him, really, but if you do come to know him better, you may be astonished. He's a deeply fascinating and talented guy."

On the whole 6 mile trail, there was only one grade crossing. We had to stop and wait nearly 90 seconds for the traffic signal to change. Standing there, Mike turned to me, looked me in the face, and put his big hand on my bare shoulder. The power of his gaze directly into my eyes, combined with his gentle smile, almost transfixed me. I was instantly 100% percent alert, and yet, at the same time, paradoxically almost paralyzed, and warm waves of profound pleasure at his touch radiated from his hand and propagated across my shoulder, up my neck, to my ears and scalp, and across my chest, and down across my belly and into my genitals. The hair all over my chest and forearms and legs erected at once, and the prickling of the skin of my scrotum was remarkable. My cock began to expand. I cannot begin to explain his power to control me absolutely, with the slightest effort - no, with no actual effort at all.

He said, "Mikey, day after tomorrow Alice and I'll be flying off to Maui, and you'll be heading to Colorado." With a new shine in his eyes, he continued, "There's no way that I can tell you what these last ten days have meant to me." He took his hand from my shoulder, and in a brief gesture touched my cheek. I instantly was wholly erect, tenting my little running short right there beside the road carrying heavy, slow-moving traffic. God knows what the drivers thought. But in a second or two the light had finally turned in our favor, and we resumed our run. I was thinking, "There's no way he could tell me what these ten days have meant to him! But God knows, my life has been revolutionized!" I had thought I had been happy before last week's trip with my uncle - and indeed I had been. But a new door in my life had opened, and I found that there were altogether new planes of pleasure and deep psychic satisfaction that I had never even dreamed could have existed. I knew that circumstances soon would necessarily take me and Mike apart, but somehow I was absolutely certain that all the rest of our lives we would love each other just the way we did today, no matter what. And that this certainty would sustain me throughout any and all future separations that necessarily would come to pass.

We got back to Alice's place and Alice and Jeff were still sitting together at the little table on her patio, talking earnestly. Mike and I had seen them from a hundred yards away; but so intent were the two interlocutors on each other than they had not noticed us until they could almost smell us, covered as we were with sweat from our vigorous run.

They broke their conversation to greet us. Allie looked at her watch and observed that they had only a few minutes before they needed to go to the airport to pick up Mike's folks. Because of some late business in New York, Mike's parents (my grandma and granddad) had taken the red eye from Philadelphia. My mom and dad would be arriving in the early afternoon midday on another flight, and in between Mike and Alice needed to take care of a couple of last minute details before the wedding rehearsal at 7 pm, and the rehearsal party that would soon follow.

So Jeff and I had the rest of the day to ourselves. Jeff had earlier suggested that we visit the Stanford campus, only a few miles away. Mike and Alice would use Mike's BMW, and Alice let me drive her pickup.

One of the things that most fascinated me about Jeff is that he was the most socially diglossal individuals I'd ever met. In formal discourse, Jeff spoke with remarkable grace. I didn't know it then, but Jeff's writings in places like the Annals of Analytic Philosophy were universally praised for their pellucid qualities, even when he was formulating the most complex and intricate arguments; and his ability to counter rebarbative criticisms in Yale philosophy workshops with learned ex tempore reposts, replete with quotations from Kant in the original 18th century German, was a matter of open and undisguised admiration of even his most earnest rivals. But I did know that when he spoke about matters of substance, he spoke with elegance and unusual clarity, though he always preserved the mild accents of East Texas.

But more often, around pals, he loved to talk as if he had never been out of the Big Thicket, and had never seen the right side of the 4th grade. "Shit fahr" [shit fire] was his favorite epithet, which he used indiscriminately as an adjective and interjection.

Jeff directed me to the campus and then to the special players' parking area right behind the Arrillaga Athletic Center, and we walked in. Only 24 months ago Jeff had been one of the biggest stars in Stanford baseball history, and he barely opened the door to the trainers room when he was hailed by two of his old teammates, now seniors, who were all over him with claps on the backs and friendly punches in the ribs.

When at last they'd parted, Jeff led me to the baseball workout room, and once again he was greeted with hoots and cheers by an ex-teammate and a trainer. When he'd caught up with them, and introduced me, he asked if we could work out, and of course we were invited to. They had every machine in the world, and in the last ten days I'd had a few runs and a little biking but it felt great to get a thorough workout for a change.

Just as we were starting the last iteration on our last machines in our cycle, in walked two guys in soaking wet sweats, a blond with a pitcher's glove, and the other, with light brown hair, carrying the tools of ignorance. Grinning and chatting, they strode into the locker room and we heard the clatter of equipment.

By the time we'd gotten to the showers they'd already been there several minutes, and as a three-letter man back home who had spent many an hour in team gang showers, I was only mildly surprised to see that both of them were whacking off. The catcher was a remarkably good-looking guy, whose open and candid face bore very regular features. He wasn't big, maybe 5' 10", but he had a perfect body. Well-built-shoulders, big arms and chest. His thighs were imposing, and his calves extremely well defined, but it was his six-packed abs that sold the picture of the perfect athlete. His perfectly defined chest was essentially smooth, but a couple of inches above his navel a thin line of dark hair begin; each inch below that it grew thicker and wider and wilder until it lost itself in his pubic hair. Under the shower, the hair on his legs lay flat and dark and dense, like the notably lighter colored hair on his forearms. His blond battery mate was, if anything, more imposing. He was maybe 6' 3", and though he had notably broad shoulders, and big arms, overall had a comparatively slim but highly athletic physique, rangy and wiry. His wet hair streamed across all his forehead, down to his eyebrows.

He faced way from the spray, which played over his back and shoulders, his legs were well-spread; and he was working a 7 inch soapy cock quite slowly and deliberately, his eyes closed, his beautiful mouth a little agape in pleasure, so that his brilliantly white teeth were particularly evident.

His wonderfully built teammate was only inches away. He was cupping his big balls with his left hand, and stroking with his right, while intently studying his partner's action. In fact the scene was totally engrossing. Jeff and I maintained some sort of middle ground between gaping at this scene, and seeming to ignore it. We began our own showers nearby, but both us constantly monitored the guys' progress, and of course our own cocks inevitably sprang to full attention. The kids progressed from the slow and easy to the urgent, and then to the near frantic, and soon, going "Yeah," and "I'm there, buddy!" they both shot into the air, and broad smiles filled their faces, and they both shook their arms all around, and then they proceeded to finish their showers, their cocks now well on the way to full relaxation. The whole process seemed to have been absolutely routine and unremarkable.

It was only now they really paid any attention to us at all. Then the strikingly handsome catcher looked over and said, "Hey, you're Jeff Jackson! We met once during my recruitment visit here in the spring of my senior year of high school. Your team was amazing. The coaches never stop comparing us - unfavorably - to you guys."

The golden-haired pitcher said, "You're Jeff Jackson?" Putting out his hand (now entirely clean!) he goes, "Bob Runciman, and this is Andy Lascelles. We're going to be juniors next year. Hey, you guys really left a legacy that's tough to live up to."

Jeff goes, "Yeah, we had some good years. And this here's Mike Cavendish, nephew of my old teammate Mike Burlington, and a prospect for next year."

They went, "Glad to meet you, dude," and "Good luck. It's a great program, as of course you know. I've met your uncle a few times; he's really a great guy. And boy do you resemble him. You an infielder too?"

I said, "Yeah, second baseman." But Jeff could tell I was a little embarrassed, since, to tell the truth, it was an odd way to make someone's acquaintance, since both Jeff and I were sporting big boners.

Jeff noticed my diffidence, and said to the current players, "I see the ole tradition jist keeps on keepin' on...."

And Andy said to me, "Yeah, no varsity baseball player ever goes to the showers at here without beating off, no matter what. It's so cool."

Though Bob said, "Yeah, you can only beg off if you're going to have a big date within the next three hours. But if it's four hours away, you're definitely jerking."

"Wow," I said. I was thinking these seemed like great guys. There was at least a chance that I'd be teammates with them in about a year from now, though if so I'd be a lowly freshman then and by then they'd be lofty seniors.

With a few kindly parting words, they departed to the lockers, and Jeff looked at me, and with a shrug, said, "Okay, guy, let's get to it," and we proceeded to act as if we too were varsity Cardinals, Jeff a real one only two years ago, and I at least an aspirant. Jeff and I faced one another, about 18 inches apart, under the hot and steamy spray. He as an 18-year old, I didn't need any kind of an excuse to beat off: it was natural as breathing really. But being there with Jeff, with his really hot body, his big cock waving in the air, I had to admit that it was a huge turn on, and I couldn't have helped carrying wood if my life had depended upon it. But hot a guy as he was, it was really his personality that so enthralled me. Ever since I'd laid eyes on him, jealously fearing him, knowing what an enormously multitalented guy he was, and knowing the unique place he had sustained in my uncle's affections, he had treated me with such respect, kindness, and attentiveness that I was now quiet a long way down the road to falling in love with him, too - or at least something damn near close to it.

Jeff, I knew already, never did anything sexual in a precipitous manner. His was always the deliberate way. It was an approach that strongly appealed to me, too, though my experience was so limited compared to his. So he started in a very calm and calculating manner, soaping up his chest, his belly, his balls, and then getting his cock extremely slick. And then with his right hand, he very slowly and grasped his phallus with the palm of his right hand downward, so that his thumb was nearest his belly, and his palm contacted the upper supersensitive dorsal side, instead of the pedestrian choking grip with the thumb uppermost or outermost. After some time of slow, exquisite stroking, he surprised me by switching hands, so that now he was using his left hand but in the same manner as before. And then with the palm of his right hand, he made slow circles on the big, shiny, head of his magnificent cock.

In deliberate compliment to him, but also curious exactly what it felt like, I followed suit. Early in my Little League days Mike had encouraged me to develop as a switch-hitter, and though I was usually stronger batting righty, I did well as a left-handed hitter too. But I rarely was a switch-hitter when it came to masturbating. While I was careful and considerate with my sex partners, and (I hoped) infinitely patient, under normal circumstances I just didn't have the patience to jack left handed, right handed action being so much more efficient. On those occasions when I wanted to spend an hour or so masturbating, I thought I was sufficiently adventurous. I think I'd tried everything I described in Jackinworld.com that a guy by himself can do, and occasionally on a winter Saturday morning I've taken the "stop and go" as far as 90 minutes - on the first pull. 

Anyway, doing it Jeff's way seemed the right thing to do just then. With Jeff in all his glory pulling away right there a matter of inches from me, if I'd just cranked in a typically efficient way I'm sure I would have been a goner within a couple of minutes at most. But with this technique, the pleasure just built and built and rolled on and on. Jeff and I were standing with our legs well spread, and facing each other, and stared each other right in the face. It was a very, very powerful feeling. Eventually, Jeff eased up, and actually removed his hands and his chest heaved. I stopped too. In a moment or two, Jeff began again, and again he used the same technique. And as before, I followed Jeff's lead.

When we had left the weight machines, we were the last in the workout room, so we were not expecting anyone else to join us in the showers. Eventually Jeff said, "Okay, now, Son," and shifted to the classic grip, and progressed in steady stages to culmination. And as before, I followed Jeff's lead in every detail, even as our eyes locked permanently. And when Jeff shot, it was all over my chest; and it was only three or four pulls more before I shot my load onto his body, and we both smiled broadly.

"Attaboy, Sporto," he drawled. "You done good."

Still happily smiling, we soaped in again and rinsed and began to dry off, when right through the shower room walked Bucky Buccleugh, the infield coach and head of baseball recruiting, naked as a jaybird.

"Hi, Coach," goes Jeff, with a broad smile.

"Jeff, ole man! It's great to see you!" with even a broader smile, and grabbing Jeff's hand and pumping it vigorously. Bucky was an unusually good-looking guy, who, at 31 was already in his 7th year as Stanford's infield coach. He'd graduated from Stanford after a stellar career at second base and was immediately drafted by the Pirates. In his second year in the majors, remarkably he won the NL gold glove, but it was the same season that saw his career-ending slide into home. "How're they treatin' you at Yale? You must be here for Mike's wedding."

"Fine as frog hair, Coach. I shore am. And lemme introduce you to ...."

And Coach Buccleugh just amazed me by interrupting him: "To young Mr. Michael Burlington Cavendish of Doylestown, PA," now grabbing my hand and giving it a sincere and manly squeeze.

"Uh, yeah, Coach," I stammered. "Glad to meet you. But, but... We've never met, how'd you...."

"Oh, Mike, that's easy. First thing is that I spent four years coaching your uncle, and it's amazing how much you remind me of him. You're just about the age he was when I first met him, and over the years he's mentioned you to me several times, most recently no more than a couple of months ago. And God knows, not many kids look like him! And of course when I see Jeff here, it's only natural to think of your uncle. They were always that close. But as a matter of fact, within the last few weeks I saw films of you and, what, the Central Bucks East Patriots at the Pennsylvania State High School Championships. Mike, you had a really great series."

"Thanks, Coach. Yeah, I had a few good swings."

"Yeah, you did, Mike, but that's not what I mean. You might be surprised at how many kids can hit high school pitching, even pretty good high school pitching. That's not what we're looking for. It's your impeccable defense that impressed us. Your moves around second base - that's just what we're looking for. And really perfect defense - it's just not that common."

"Well, Coach, that's kind of funny because I'm not surprised that you like my action around the keystone. My uncle's been giving me tips - actually coaching me - for years. And he often refers to you. I bet I could quote you almost all your favorite sayings. So I'm not surprised you like my moves: they're just the same ones you coach."

"So that's why I like your action, Mikey!" he said with a broad grin. "Guys, I just finished my run, and I see you're done with your workouts. How about taking a tub with me and we can really catch up?"

So we went to the Jacuzzi, stripped, and eased in. Buccleugh had a remarkable body, just as toned as one of his undergraduate athletes, really quite perfectly developed. I admired his big chest, broad shoulders, and big arms. His legs were powerful looking and wiry, but on his left leg from above the knee to several inches below it was a long and rather jagged-looking scar.

Bucky noticed me eyeing his scar and he said, "Yeah, I really wrecked that one."

"Coach, I saw that play that ended your career in the majors. I was at Veterans Stadium when the Pirates came to town. That play won the game, but..."

"But it also won me a one-way ticket to college coaching. I've been happy here, and never more than the four years when your uncle was my second-baseman and Jeff here was my shortstop. It was a classic combination!"




Alice, My Uncle, & Me Ch. 04d



"So what are your plans, Mike? Or should I call you Mikey?"

"Mike's fine, Coach, except when my uncle's around. - Anyway, I'm interested in playing ball, and I'm especially interested in Stanford."

"Well, Mike, I can tell you informally that Stanford's especially interested in you. Under NCAA rules, there's just so much I can tell you prior to September 1, but you already know that we've been studying films of your games, and that I really like your defense. How're your grades?"

Jeff spoke up. "Coach, this here kid's shore to be valedictorian at that purty fancy school up 'ere in Pennsylvania."

Bucky grinned at me and said, "Knowing your uncle, why am I not surprised? Again, I'm constrained by the rules not to tell you anything specific before September 1, but you should be able to guess that we'll be very, very interested in you, and as soon as we legally can contact you, you'll be hearing from my staff."

When we got out of the tub and toweled off, Bucky hollered over to an assistant trainer and told him to bring us Cardinal shorts and tee shirts so we wouldn't have to put on our sweaty old things we walked in wearing. So when finally we left, we walked out looking like Stanford varsity jocks.

We walked past the dorm where Jeff and Mike had been roomies for four years. And then, as we strolled over to the Red Barn, in a relatively secluded part of the campus, made bold by the new and unexpected intimacy I felt with Jeff, I said it was obvious that he and Mike had been in love for years. "How did that come to be?"

So Jeff sat down on the lawn under the great live oak, signaled me to join him, and he began.



Alice, My Uncle, & Me Ch. 04e



This continues the account of the five days and nights that studly 18 year old Mikey spends together with Mike, the 24-year old uncle he idolizes, and Mike's fascinating and beautiful 22-year old fiancée Alice. The beginning of their story is told in "Cross-Country with My Uncle," and continued by "Alice, My Uncle, and Me," day 1 and day 2, and Day 3, parts 1 and 2, and "My Uncle's Bachelor Party," parts 1 and 2, wherein Jeff, Mike's old college roommate and lover, is introduced.

I sat down cross-legged facing Jeff under the live oak on the lawn at Stanford's Red Barn, in a fairly obscure corner of the campus. Because it was well into June, the campus was significantly under populated, and from this remote location we could not see anyone else. Maybe nobody else would walk by for another hour or so, who knew?

"Well, Hoss, it was this way," Jeff began, somewhat languidly. First off, you have to understand that it wasn't a matter of lust. Back when we were new freshmen, neither your uncle nor I had had any significant sexual contact with guys whatsoever. He's told me his entire sexual history up until we met, and I'm sure he was telling the whole truth. He began dating girls seriously when he was 13, and by the time he was 14 he was fucking pretty regularly. He was a major stud in his junior high school and later high school, and he more or less went through about 2 to 3 different girls per year. But, Mikey, you probably remember all this yourself."

"Yeah, Jeff," I said. "I knew he always had one great-looking babe after another. I'm sure I knew all his regulars, one after the other. From time to time he'd do stuff like take me along with him and his girl to go get ice cream or a hamburger or even to a football game or something. If they minded, they never seemed to let me know. When he was 16, say, I was 10, but I always knew how to act around his dates, and knew how to keep my mouth shut and stay out of the way. I just loved being with him, any time, any place, and he obviously didn't mind my tagging along or he wouldn't have asked me again and again."

"But, Jeff," I said, "Look, I've known you, at least a little, for four or five years, and I've been hearing about you, for almost six. But to tell the truth, I don't know all that much about **your** personal history. Why don't you fill me in a little bit?"

"Okay, Son," he says, "but don't blame me if you fall asleep, 'cause it's not all that interesting a story. But here goes."

With that he kinda surprised me by swiveling a little, scooting over, and laying back, putting his head in my lap, and he grew quite relaxed, and thoughtful. He was so beautiful. With his chiseled features, his large dark eyes, his firm chin. As I looked down at him, I could not keep my hands off him, and it gave me a remarkable satisfaction to stroke his face idly with the fingers of my right hand, tracing a line slowly down his noble aquiline nose, slowly, and then gently across his lips, and onto his cheek, rough with a thick dark stubble. And just as soon as I first touched him, he smiled up at me, and his face became quite radiant.

The beautiful man began reflectively:

"When I was 6, and my little sisters were 3 and 1, my parents divorced. My dad remarried and lived about half a mile from where I lived with my mom and sisters. He's a nice guy, and I have always had a very good relationship with him, and also with my step mom and little half brother. But it was my mom who raised us. She worked long hours as the chief assistant to the county clerk, and she engaged as her housekeeper Carmen Lopez, who was really like a second mom to us. We all love Carmen to death. We lived in a small house on a nice street, but most of the guys in the neighborhood my age lived on the little street that backed up on our street, and they were all Chicanos. So I grew up speaking Spanish easily? at least with a strong Chicano accent and vocabulary. Even today, you don't watch me, when I'm speaking Spanish, I'll say "la marqueta" instead of "el mercado."

Now with my fingertips I was tracing his eyebrows, so dark, and so beautifully shaped. They lent his face such a remarkable animation, whether he was speaking, or merely reacting to his interlocutor's remarks; and so magnetic was his face that he could -- I know it! -- communicate with, and significantly influence, both strangers and intimates by the subtlest inclinations of his features. Now, however, he was in repose as he continued his story.

"But anyway, we never had a lot of spare money to throw around in our household. Course it didn't matter in our school. A kid was considered a fuckin' fashion plate if he wore Wranglers instead of the brands they sold at K-Mart and Penney's."

"My elementary school was of no special distinction, but somehow I always seemed to have teachers who took an interest in me, and I have to say that though regular class work didn't involve me much, my teachers always had suggestions of good books to read, and they offered me special challenges. I always scored right high on the standardized tests, and my mom, too, made sure that I had plenty of good things to read."

"I went to the only high school in the county, grades 7-12. It was mostly rather mediocre, but there was in effect a school within the school for the kids who showed some talent, and alongside the classes for kids who had a really rough time getting out of Algebra I, there were advanced classes in math and science, with a couple of really good teachers; and also some advanced sections in English and French with some teachers that really had something on the ball. By the time I was in senior high school, I'd taken a few years of French and I was good at it. Actually it built on my rather casual Spanish, and I found it quite easy. Math was another thing that I found very easy, and I was permitted to take the advanced math the school offered in my sophomore year: it was called 'pre-calculus.'"

As Jeff smiled up to me, his face was so endearing, beguiling, that merely touching him caused a kind of energy to flow into my fingertips, and up into my hand, and then into my forearm, so that the skin warmed, and the hair erected. Even though the golden hair on my forearm was thick and curly, and it stood well off my skin, it was still capable of erection, of shifting orientation slightly under the influence of this powerful stimulation. The thrill continued up my upper arm and into my shoulder, and actually my right nipple came to a state of full erection, and then, too, my left also.

The deep pleasure I received from touching Jeff's face and his hairline and his ear with the fingertips of my right hand literally made it impossible for me to resist placing my left hand onto his body too. I slipped my fingertips just under the hem of his little tee shirt and onto his very hairy, very firm abs. I let my fingertips travel no more than about an inch, back and forth, as they wandered, in a very restricted arc in the dense hair below his navel. And from the very first slightest touch, the energy that flowed into my fingertips of that hand was not the simple warmth and mild excitement that was flowing into my right fingertips; it was more akin to electricity, if of a modest amperage, and again, the energy propagated up my arm -- and actually into my soul somehow. Frankly, as soon as Jeff had laid his head into my lap, my cock had fattened up, but now, as I stroked him so very gently, it was almost painfully erect, and I had to run my hand into my shorts to 'adjust' my penis. It now lay just alongside Jeff's beautiful ear, mostly in my shorts, but with the cockhead extending above the little elastic waistband and under my tee shirt. I noticed, too, that Jeff's cock was growing too, causing his little shorts to poke out, but unlike me, he wasn't really rigid, and he continued his narration:

"The other thing that I was really good at was sports. High school football is like a religion in Texas, and I was a very successful wide receiver; but I just loved baseball, and I was lucky to have a really good coach, who saw that I had some potential at shortstop. Our team won the regionals year after year, and we were contenders at State.

"But something that really changed the direction of my life was that I got a shot at being an exchange student for my junior year. I didn't want to miss baseball season, so I got a special deal where I could start at the end of May, and come home at March. Because of my French proficiency I was sent to Biel-Bienne in Switzerland. I lived the first three months with a wonderful Suisse-Romand family, and my French fluency really improved dramatically. Funny thing is, though, that Biel-Bienne is a truly bilingual city, and I began to pick up a little German from my soccer teammates and neighbors. So when the exchange group found that they had overbooked kids for French homes but they had a vacancy with a German speaking family, I volunteered for it. The Schliemanns were great. There were three kids in the family, and in no time I was jabbering away in German; and all my school classes were in German, so by the time I left, I was pretty handy at German. And I also took a calculus course while I was there.

"My host family had a daughter, Sisi, who was exactly my age, and a stunning blonde beauty, with, no shit, Heidi-like pigtails. Man, was she hot. Pale, pale blue eyes, and a glance from her across the dinner table would just cause me to sizzle. Frankly I ate a lot of my meals with a major hard-on. Now 'dating' a member of a host family was strictly forbidden, but Sisi and I almost inevitably fell for one another. We were very discreet, however, and we tried never to let our feelings give us away. But we managed to sneak away and find places we could be together alone. I don't need to go into all the details, but she was virgo intacta until she met me. She was really hot for me, and all it took was just an opportunity for us to take to fuckin' like crazed weasels. Our intercourse was so, so hot! But we had plenty of great oral sex. God, that was a great time, and she was so talented at oral sex -- kissing, sucking -- and had such a wonderful response to my going down on her -- I've never known another woman who so came so easily and repeatedly. Because of the risk that we were running, sneaking around in parks and attics, and storerooms at school, and so forth, the level of excitement was extremely high. I really loved her, too. Her twat was as blonde as her head, almost silvery, really. And perfumed! Oh, man!"

By now, Jeff's cock had grown as rigid as mine, and he too had to shift a bit, and adjust his shorts so that now his dickhead, like mine, poked above his waistband, and it was now right under my fingertips. In course of the subtle movements of my fingers, all I did was touch it, ever so slightly, ever so gently, ever so intermittently; but his cock grew to be not merely erect, but rock hard. Nevertheless, I did not enlarge my movements, and, almost amazingly, he was able to continue his story:

"But when March rolled around, I had to head home, though it almost killed me to part from Sisi, even though we had had to keep our love a dark, dark secret. Back home, I found that though I had missed a lot of baseball practice, my constant soccer practice and playing in Switzerland had really improved both my stamina and my agility, and my performance on the diamond was far better than it had ever been before. I was on the regional all-star team, and though I was a junior I was elected captain of our team that went to State and almost won our division. It was a really close thing.

"I had already taken calculus in Switzerland, more advanced than any course our school had to offer, but my teacher, Mr. Maiser, volunteered to tutor me, and on an independent study basis we went through differential equations, using an old college textbook of his.

"Maiser and I continued with differential equations and number theory in my senior year, but it was practically the only thing that interested me in school. To tell the truth, Bubba, the rest seemed so absurdly easy, like physics for babies or something, though my English teacher did suggest a number of very interesting books. Our baseball season was truly great, and we went on to win the Texas State Championship in a walk. Stanford was on the lookout for some serious support in the infield and I was overjoyed to get an offer from them. It was the only school I even gave a second look at.

"Anyway," Jeff continued, "when I met Mike, he had had a great deal of sexual experience with women; but essentially none with guys. Oh, the usual stuff, circle-jerks at camp, team hazing, stuff like that, but I don't even think he'd had experience with, say, mutual masturbation with a guy, much less anything more advanced.

"And it was more or less the same for me. My school was much smaller, and I had had far fewer girls than Mike had, but I started dating and fucking about the same age he had, and by the time we met, I'm sure that wasn't a thing he'd done with a girl that I hadn't. I'd gone steady with one girl for a year and a half, and by the time that was over, we'd done just about ever'thing either one of us could imagine. Ah, Betsy. Now that was a girl to remember?.," his voice tailing off.

"In the summer before our sophomore year began -- we were both 15 -- Betsy's folks went out of town for about four days, leaving her home alone. I told my mom I was going to the Lake with some friends, which wasn't quite true. I went with just one friend, Betsy. In those days you could get a permit to drive at 15, and I just told my mom an older friend was driving. Actually, I drove Betsy's mom's car. Anyway, Betsy's family's cabin was only 15 miles away. From Friday at 6 pm until Sunday at 4 pm, I don't think either one of us wore a stitch. We kissed, sucked, stroked, licked, and fucked virtually non-stop, in the way that only randy 15 year olds can. We did it in the lake, in the boat, on the lawn, in the bed, on the beach, in the kitchen, in the shower, on the carpet, on the sofa, you name it. When we'd first met, Betsy was a right strait-laced East Texas Baptist gal. She'd gone in for some 'heavy petting' as they used to say, with an old boy friend, but that was it. But turned out that once we got together, she proved to be first curious, then willing, and finally exuberantly experimental. There wasn't anything that she wasn't willing to try, at least with me, though that she always demurred at any suggestion that we bring in any friends, or anything of that sort. She was a girl who really, really, loved cock -- or at least my cock. In her mouth, in her cunt, up her rear, in her hands, between her thighs, on her face, you name it. And of course, for me it was a life lesson to discover what real intimacy combined with real freedom and almost no inhibitions really could mean. It's something that many, many people never ever enjoy, never even are able to imagine."

By this point, both Jeff and I were pretty heated up. Jeff took my left hand by my wrist, and very deliberately slipped it into his shorts. I curled my fingers around his cock -- as much as I could grasp, anyway, and marveled, yet again at the mysterium tremendum of the phallus: so absolutely rock hard, and yet at the same time so velvety, so warm. Yes, of course it was more or less exactly the same as mine in length and girth -- very close to eight inches, and generously thick in proportion. But even though I did not permit my hand to wander up and down his cock except a little, nevertheless I felt every little incidental detail that made his phallus as unique and special as it was dear to me: the amazing system of veins popping out on the surface that made grasping his cock feel like I was seized of a steel cable; the extremely defined flared edge, or corona, of his cockhead, the slow throb that measured each beat of the heart that was now coming to be so precious to me.

Jeff continued with his story. "So while I hadn't had nearly the variety of relationships that Mike had, in my own way I had gained some very valuable experience, and, tell the truth, there were always girls who wanted to date me. But like Mike, I had never touched another guy's cock. Of course I had had fantasies, some of them very dramatic, when I jerked off, involving good-looking guys I knew, or just strangers, or totally imaginary guys, made up of fragments and dreams. Of course I was ashamed of myself for the times when my imagination took an unexpected turn in that direction, but, hey, not too ashamed, and certainly not worried, not with my track record with women."

"Anyway, when Mike and I first met, it wasn't a matter of lust. First came admiration, then friendship, then affection, and only then, sex. It was like this:

"I arrived on the Stanford campus not knowing anyone other than the coaching staff who had recruited me. I'd met a few guys on the team when I came for a campus visit, but only briefly. I arrived by taxi, having flown in from Beaumont, and I shipped a couple of trunks and a few boxes by UPS."

At this point, Jeff's cell phone rang. Since it was Mike's number, Jeff accepted the call. Mike said that there was to be an extra delivery of champagne, and that the wine vendor required someone to sign for it. Could we go to Alice's townhouse and wait for the delivery, which would be sometime within the next two or three hours? Of course we agreed, though we both regretted that our intensely pleasurable storytelling session under the live oak was necessarily to be broken up.

To be continued.



Alice, My Uncle, & Me Ch. 04f



Part 10

This continues the account of the five days and nights that studly 18 year old Mikey spends together with Mike, the 24-year old uncle he idolizes, and Mike's fascinating and beautiful 22-year old fiancée Alice. The beginning of their story is told in "Cross-Country with My Uncle," and continued by "Alice, My Uncle, and Me," day 1 and day 2, and Day 3, parts 1 and 2, and "My Uncle's Bachelor Party," parts 1 and 2, wherein Jeff, Mike's old college roommate and lover, is introduced. This is part of Day 4.

Jeff and I arrived at Alice's house, and let ourselves in. We had anywhere up to three hours to kill before the wine dealer's delivery would arrive. I said to Jeff, "Hey, guy, pick up the story where you left off on campus, how you met Mike and how you guys like, got together."

Jeff said, "Sure, Mikey. But it's a kind of long story, so let's get comfortable," and he flopped onto the big king-sized bed, and rolled onto his stomach.

I sat down on the bed beside him, and I thought I'd pick up where I'd left off too. As Jeff resumed his narration, I idly stroked his big, broad shoulders.

Jeff started: 

"Until I arrived, I didn't even know who my roommate would be. At Stanford, the coaches decide who's going to room with whom in the first year, and there had been somebody who had at the last minute not shown up, so all I got was a call from the coach's office the day before I left telling me that I had been switched from one room to another. When my taxi dropped me off at the dorm, I was issued my key, I went upstairs, and I saw a label on the door, "Mike Burlington, Jeff Jackson," and I walked in. Nobody was there, but Mike had already moved in. I only had a couple of suitcases of stuff to unpack, and it was a couple of hours until the first team meeting.

"So after I'd settled in, I kinda looked through Mike's stuff. He'd brought about half a dozen books with him, just a few inches on a bookshelf, and even today I remember what an impression these few volumes made on me. There was a handsome translation of Vitruvius, inscribed by his father; volume one of the Bury edition of The Rise and Fall; a small edition of The Prince; a Java manual; a well-thumbed cheap edition of the Phaedrus; Gensler's classic Symbolic Logic; and two things that deeply surprised me: Michel Foucault's The Use of Pleasure, and, in the original German, Die Leiden des jungen Werthers. Not even 12 inches of books, but boy, did they impress me. I had to figger this Burlington guy, whoever he was, was not the typical freshman jock. He had to be someone pretty interesting. I mean, reading Goethe for pleasure in German. That is, if you can judge a kid by his books, which I'm sure you can't. All I'd brought with me was a small collection of 'graphic novels,' – comix if you will – and a German dictionary.

"He had brought about 30 CD's too. I wasn't surprised at The Cure, Blues Traveler, The White Album, a Stones catalog album, and a bunch of Indie groups I'd never heard of. And I was gratified to see Ten Strait Hits. I wasn't particularly surprised to see Mozart's Gran Partida and Purcell's Trumpet Voluntary, but what really pleased me – hell, it charmed me! I gave a little whoop to myself – was Widor's Symphonie gothique. It's not every 18-year old kid who has a taste for French organ music! During my stay in the Suisse-Romand I'd become addicted, but I knew it wasn't a widely shared teen craze, to say the least! But even so, there are ten Saint-Saens fan for every Widor fancier. So again, I figgered, hey this kid could be interesting."

(As Jeff was saying this, I was thinking, "Hey, I love Widor too! Even more than Cesar Franck and Louis Vierne." But I didn't want to interrupt Jeff's narrative.)

"I snooped in his closet too. He had an axe case and a trumpet case. As for me, I loved music, but I never played anything. There was a bunch of brand-new designer clothes, too, most of it with the tags still on them. And there was some fancy electronics gear. Hell, his fuckin' clock radio was one of those Bose things. So I figgered that this kid might be interesting, but he could well be a really stuck-up rich kid who'd just be a pain in the butt.

"Well, of course, I couldn't have been wronger if I'd tried. It was Mike's mom who'd bought all that designer stuff (and most of it he never wore, sticking with jeans and shorts most of the time); and Mike couldn't have been more sweet natured and generous of spirit. In fact, one thing that I had noticed was that this kid (whom I hadn't met yet) might be book-smart, but I sniggered to myself that he couldn't be too smart after all. At first glance, the room seemed symmetrical: each side of the room was identical, or almost. But because of the placement of the main stairs on the floor, however, the closet on the side he'd picked was easily two feet shorter than on other side. Of course, you and I both know that it was just Mike's way to pick the worse side for himself, leaving the better one for his as yet unknown roommate. He was the most considerate kid you could imagine, the most generous."

As Jeff said this, I pulled up the bottom of his shirt, and pushed it up to his shoulders, exposing Jeff's remarkably well-muscled, smooth back, and I systematically stroked it in fairly large circles. It was deeply satisfying to me just to touch his skin.

Jeff continued: 

"And on his desk he had two pictures. One was of his mom and pop, and the other was of this cute 12-year old blond kid, who I assumed was his brother. Of course it was you. You may or may not know this, but all through our years together he kept a picture of his parents and you on his desk, yours replaced each year as you grew and changed."

When Jeff told me that, it warmed my heart. Of course I had kept a picture of him on my desk too, and one in my wallet, too. And I took every chance I could to tell my friends about Mike and show off his picture. They all had met him and knew I wasn't lying about what a wonderful guy he was.

Jeff continued his story. "So in about an hour I showed up at the first team meeting. It was a get-to-know-one-another thing. I scanned the room wondering which one was this Burlington guy. We were all wearing name tags, but I didn't spot anybody sporting that name. I do remember, however, in the crowd of good-looking, athletic kids, one guy who caught my eye across the room, who was particularly striking-looking, who moved with unusual grace, blond, with deep, deep blue eyes and a persistent smile. And after several of the coaches introduced themselves and gave their usual speeches, they eventually asked us new guys to stand up in turn, and one of the coaches read out a potted biography of each one, and that's how I finally found out that the blond beauty was in fact Mike Burlington. 

"And that he was a second baseman -- for a short-stop like me, by far the most important teammate. It's not too much to say that the way the short and second baseman work together is the most critical element in baseball defense.

"From the team meeting we immediately changed and hit the field for a practice, and instead of a lot of drills, we had an intersquad game, just for fun. Believe me, bringing together so many kids from all over, we were really a fucked up mess. But there was something almost miraculous about the way Mike and I worked together, right from the first. It takes a lot of drills and practice for an infield to come together as a team, to make plays work halfway smoothly. But with Mike and me, we never needed to say a word, it was just something unexplainable, ineffable. He was always at just the right spot at the right time; and he could fire the ball over my way and somehow I'd just be in position. It wasn't something we had to work at, to practice, it just happened. As I said, it was, like unexplainable. But we both knew that something very special was happening when we were on the field together. It was as if we were looking at the field of play with the same eyes. And it started before we hardly even knew each other's name.

"I admired his defensive play enormously. And of course I could tell just from his grin that he liked my action too. And when I got in a lucky swat and whacked a fastball right out of the park he was there at the plate to high-five me with a real wide smile. It was the first time we'd ever touched. We hadn't even shaken hands before."

I tugged at Jeff's shirt, and he held his arms up over his head to facilitate my pulling it off, and I straddled Jeff's middle, and I begin a more orderly massage. It was even more satisfying to me to be in more extensive contact with him, such that my bare legs lay alongside his hips.

Jeff went on: "My hit was the game winner, and despite our multiple errors our team was thrilled, whooping and shouting as we filed into the locker room. My locker was on the same row as Mike's and as we undressed I noted what a really great body Mike had. Big shoulders, beautifully balanced musculature, rippling abs, all that golden hair on his belly and chest and his big arms and legs, that big fat cock, those swinging balls. (By the way, Son, it's amazing how much you remind me of an 18-year old Mike.)

"Billy Pelham, the captain of the team, and huge star in right field, strode into the locker room, whacked a bat against a locker a couple of times and said, 'Lissen up, you new guys. We have an old and honored tradition on this baseball club. It has two parts and they are both important. You don't even want to think of breaking either one. The first part is that nobody, get that, NOBODY who is not on the varsity will ever beat off in the shower here. Ever. Any time, whether you are alone, or otherwise. If you ever try it and you're found out, believe you you'll be very sorry, and we're not kidding here. The other part is that if you do win a spot on the varsity, you will be issued an invitation, which you will accept, to be initiated. And thereafter, you will not only be permitted to jack off in the team shower, you will have the solemn responsibility to do so on every occasion. (Way it works is that the tradition permits guys with a hot date within three hours to take a pass, but otherwise, the tradition is absolutely honored. Iron clad.) Now we know that we cannot stop guys from getting boners; but any fancy stuff, like excessive soaping up, or standing so that a the shower is focused on a boner, that's the sort of trick that can get you in big trouble. I don't need to tell you what happens when a guy tries to break this rule, but I can tell you that nobody who's tried it has made the varsity here in as long as anybody can remember.'"

Jeff went on: "All of us new guys had been on ball teams for years, and we had never heard of anything like this, but it was obvious that Pelham wasn't hoaxing us. As we filed into the gang showers, it was, like, a very strange experience. The varsity guys were remarkably, amazingly, unselfconscious. Habituated from months, if not years of following the tradition, quite as a matter of course as soon as they'd gotten wet, they soaped up and got hard and whacked off."

But of course it wasn't as simple as that. As it happened Mike and I were showering side by side when Billy Pelham himself came in and took the spot right next to us. Pelham was fucking awesome. He was six-four, perfectly built, and frankly gorgeous. His torso was a fucking amazing thing, with chiseled musculature: big, defined pecs, incredibly cut abs – eight-packed, I'd guess you'd say – and his arms and legs were perfect. Big round biceps, imposing quads, ropy forearms and his calves were really defined. Big veins popped up along his arms, and one along each side of his lower belly, framing his perfect abs. His fine blond hair was full and longish, cascading over his forehead, so that his golden eyebrows were almost obscured. His deep-set eyes were china blue. His features were a rare combination of feral and refined. It wasn't just us who were impressed by Pelham. He was a part time model already, and he'd been featured in an A & F catalog, in a Lord & Taylor newspaper ad that had run wherever they had stores, and his biggest coup was actually in France: He had been featured in an "Eminence" underwear ad. The previous season you could have actually gone to Paris or Bordeaux and see a dozen posters one after another pasted up in a row in Metro passages or along walls featuring him and his incredible body in quite astonishingly skimpy briefs. He would soon be elected "Mr Stanford," and when he graduated he was recruited for the Dodger organization. But after two seasons in Triple-A ball at Vegas, he sustained some sort of injury, though he did get 'a cup of coffee' in the Bigs for about 4 games. Anyway, he's the same Bill Pelham whom you may have seen in a couple of films recently, playing small roles opposite Paltrow and McGuire.

"Well, with Billy in the shower, jacking wasn't just a by the numbers kind of thing. He very definitely took his time. And yes, he knew full well that he could draw the attention of a crowd. He stood under the nozzle and got himself wet all over. This had the effect of dramatically changing the look of his prolific body hair. The dense golden hair of his arms and legs, once wet, lay flat against his skin, darker and denser-seeming than ever. And likewise his chest hair, which grew in great whorls over each pec, and extended up onto his upper chest as far as, and even beyond, his collarbones, and somewhat up his powerful neck, wettened, it too seemed darker and denser. From either side of the middle of his belly somewhat darker hair – still blondish, but darker – grew together into a thick track that ran from the point of his sternum down across his abs; only below his navel did it widen out more and more until it seamlessly melded with his pubic hair."

Jeff's story was getting me really, really hot. I got up and unlaced Jeff's Nikes and then tugged off his little Cardinal shorts, leaving him absolutely nude. From the rear he was astonishingly good looking. His legs were so exceptionally well formed and muscular, and covered in that dark silky hair. It ran thickly right up onto his butt. I quickly pulled off my own shirt and shoes and shorts, and I too was nude, and I resumed my position straddling Jeff's thighs. This time, though, my cock was absolutely erect, nearly cleaving to my belly, and I continued to rub Jeff's back. Now, however, every time I reached up to his shoulders, my balls dragged over his powerful butt, covered with silky dark hair, stimulating me almost beyond bearing. I took care that when I stroked down onto his butt I also ran the edge of my hand along my cock, too.

"Ahhhh," said Jeff. "Man, does that feel great, Mikey," and shortly, Jeff returned to his narration:

"When Billy turned under the spray, he exposed his broad back. In general, he was economically built, for all his perfection, but his back was a bit more heavily muscled. It narrowed down dramatically to the boyish waist that so dramatized the tiny Eminence briefs on so many posters in France. His butt was proportionate to his big thighs and his upper back, and like his thighs, well-provided with hair, though finer there than on his legs.

"As I said before, Pelham was fucking awesome, quite intimidatingly, astonishingly good-looking.

"He soaped up, under his arms, between his legs, up his crack, over his arms and legs, across his broad chest. And rinsed off. In no haste, he took a squirt of shampoo and worked it into his thick golden hair, and thoroughly rinsed. And only then did he again take the soap to his genitals. Under the warm spray, his large balls were relaxed and hung low; but his big cock was neither relaxed nor low-hanging, for almost as soon as he had entered the shower, his cock had begun to thicken and lengthen. And by the time that he had first soaped up between his legs, his cock was fully erect, and stood at attention at like a 45-degree angle from his powerful lower belly. He knew full well that we new freshman players were watching him with awe, and at only a casual glance he could tell that he had our full attention. As soon as Billy's cock began to expand, Mike's cock and mine did likewise, and when his was absolutely erect, so were ours, under his direct influence. All the upperclassmen knew the kind of effect they had on the new kids; that was a large part of the fun."

Meanwhile, as Jeff was relating his story, I was getting hotter and hotter, and dragging my balls over his hairy butt, and touching my cock intermittently as I stroked him, just wasn't enough. I was stoked. Actually it was almost a torment being so intimate with this beautiful man. I thought how odd it was that only yesterday I thought I hated and feared Jeff, and now, only about 24 hours after he arrived, I knew he liked and respected me, and, as for me, I thought maybe I actually loved him. Certainly I admired him excessively, and it was infinitely pleasurable to touch him, even in the least way. And now there I was, naked, athwart his bare body, slowly and sensuously massaging him, and every point of tangency was intensely pleasurable, but also produced in me an anxiety, an impatience, an inward demand for more, more, more.

Jeff continued his story:

"But when Billy finally turned all his attention to his cock, we were helpless to do anything about our own erections, as our attention, too, was riveted on him and his action. He luxuriated in our gawking amazement as he slowly, generously, began to stroke himself. Cupping his big balls in his left hand, he grasped his soapy shaft in his right, and gave himself a few very slow and deliberate strokes. Then removing his left hand from his balls, the Apollonian beauty let it wander over his chest, as he closed his eyes and tilted back his head somewhat, in a rather languid display of careless luxury, as he continued to stroke slowly, slowly, his big balls loosely dancing up and down between his wide-spread beautiful legs.

"Despite the absolutely mesmerizing display that Billy was putting on, I could not avoid looking over to Mike, like me, absolutely erect, but totally prohibited from so much as touching himself. As striking as Pelham was, I was thinking to myself, God, is this Burlington kid incredibly good looking! He wasn't as tall as Pelham, nor as broad across the shoulders, and maybe not yet quite so cut as Pelham, but he was close. And if anything, his arms and legs were even hairier, his face absolutely as beautiful, even more so. He had a certain softness that his frequently displayed dimples only emphasized that made his face never seem hard-edged like Pelham: his face was always warm and friendly, a perfect field to represent to the world the kindness and sweet nature that I would come to learn were his essential qualities.

"Mike's cock, standing there untouched, throbbing, was, if anything, bigger than Pelham's, and his balls just as impressive. I had already been amazingly impressed by Mike, first from his possessions that I had inspected in our room; then his general aspect and mien in the meeting room; then by the near-magical qualities of his play at second-base, coordinating so eerily with my own play; and now, this amazing body revealed in all its glory.

"But fundamental to my future life as my appreciation of Mike would prove to be, right then and right there, it was Pelham who engrossed almost all of our attention, with his now quite sybaritic masturbation. Up and down his veiny shaft he ran his big hand, slowly and patiently; now with a bit of a twist, now with something more rococo. For instance, for a while, he grasped his shaft with his left hand, and used the specially soaped palm of his right hand to smooth and tease his cockhead.

"Finally – I don't know if Mike and I could have stood it a minute longer – but we damn sure weren't going to leave either! – Billy proceeded to a somewhat steadier stroking, then steadier and faster and then faster and harder, and finally to almost brutal final strokes, and suddenly, with a great shout of "Oh, yeah, guys!" he shot a long stream of cum onto the shower wall; and, with a broad smile upon his preternaturally handsome face, finished up with half a dozen concluding strokes, squeezing out still more semen.




Alice, My Uncle, & Me Ch. 04f



"Shaking his arms all around, he stationed himself once more so that the spray blew away the remaining soap in his crotch, and gave an additional quick soaping and rinsing to his pits. Only then did he really focus his attention on Mike and me. And, oddly, ran out his right hand, so recently engaged elsewhere, smiled and said, "Hi, I'm Billy Pelham."

"This the way it was going to be for months and months of amazement and frustration. Of course much of the time the freshmen practiced – and showered – alone. And then the tension wasn't so high, the frustration minimal. But often enough we had intersquad games, or sometimes we wound up our practice at the same time as the varsity, and the shower room was a scene of ongoing torment as the varsity men, each and every one of them, beat off, every time, as we freshmen stood witness at these events celebrating maleness and athleticism, team spirit, and the camaraderie of youth and beauty.

"And let me tell you, that while Pelham may have been exceptional – not everybody winds up an underwear model – and quite a number of the guys on the team had quite ordinary faces -- but every player on that team had a great body. You don't get to that level of performance without the good fortune of great genes granting you a powerful mesomorphic frame. And then it takes years of training and practice to hone your skills, work that is unambiguously reflected in your musculature; and then endless hours in the weight room and on the track tone the body, bring it near to the peak of performance. And finally, since the players were all 18 to 22, they were all in the freshness of youth, long before age takes its toll on the body of the obsessive athlete.

"The varsity players, for whom the team shower was a daily event, had a wide variety of approaches. Quite often they kind of paired off, and it was easy to see that these pairs were not accidental and casual, but regular things. Often two guys would stand facing one another, only a foot or eighteen inches apart, and slowly jack, and eventually come on each other's belly; sometimes one would steady himself by putting a hand on his partner's shoulder, and they would often speak to each other, "Yeah, do it, Joe," or "I'm gonna come, Phil," or "Shoot on me, buddy!"

"Some preferred to stand in a circle of three or four or five, and of course it could be a contest of who came first, or on some days, who comes last. Either way it's fun.

Listening to this hot, hot story, I desperately wanted to see and touch Jeff's phallus. I just had to. It was not a desire; it was a compulsion. I told Jeff to roll over. 

He said, "Sure, Mikey." I moved to his Jeff's side, and he rolled over, languidly – and I even thought a little shyly. But when he exposed his front side, it was clear that he was as sexually engaged as I was. His cock was absolutely as stony hard as mine was. It was totally fascinating: its thick root, its corded shaft, and its flaring glans.

I resumed my station straddling his middle, my balls now resting on his very hairy lower belly, my rigid cock now hovering just a fraction of an inch above his abs, as I began to stroke his big chest, while Jeff shone on me one of his trademark radiant smiles, the smile that was capable almost entrancing me.

At the same time, as I moved forward and backward as I was slowly, systematically massaging his neck and chest, the head of his impossibly firm cock was in turn massaging my scrotum, which hung just in front of it. I could hardly bear it.

As he carelessly smiled up at me, almost paralyzing me with pleasure – he was so fucking handsome, and so extremely loveable – he interlaced his fingers behind his head, thus exposing his very hairy pits; and the air around him was perfumed by an intensely male, pheromone-rich vapor that had the effect of almost stupefying me as I drank it in. And he resumed his story, which he was in no hurry to conclude. "What was almost the hardest to bear in that freshman year were times not after team practices, but when I'd been working in the weight room or running laps or taking individual practice with the infield coach, and I'd wind up the shower alone, and then just one varsity guy would enter.

"Sometimes it was not so difficult. A guy I had had little to do with, maybe, who was otherwise distracted anyway, and who just quickly soaped up, rinsed off, and jacked in a businesslike manner, really in a matter of just a few moments, maybe, and quite possibly almost privately, legs wide apart, of course, but facing the wall. Knowing exactly what my teammate was doing, and seeing his broad shoulders, and watching his big arm working, and maybe his firm butt flexing a little, it was always, at the very least, an interesting, and usually quite stimulating event, but little more, but not a torment.

"But quite often it was an entirely different kind of experience, when, say, it was a matter of a teammate whom I knew well and who may have taken a personal interest in me and my play; or someone who had a particularly pronounced streak of exhibitionism, or who was particularly narcissistic. Then the experience could be extremely powerful, if rather odd, as my teammate would quite deliberately station himself right before me, and slowly and generously worship his own body. Believe me, when guys put as much work into their weight training and exercise programs, and get the kind of results that young guys can get, some can come to be overweening in their pride in their bodies, fascinated by their own fabric, loving every detail of it, and greedy of any opportunity to display it. So some of these guys were delighted to have a captive audience of one, especially a freshman who would be unable to compete in any way with his exhibition, or even collaborate. Guy could look you right into your face, only inches away, as he's using every reasonable means to pleasure himself.

"For some reason I remember one particular time – though there were several of the same nature – when FitzAlan De Ros came into the shower just after I had finished with a long series of wind sprints. De Ros -- I think probably only his mother ever called him FitzAlan – was barely 5'7", and most of his classmates called him Big Al, in ironic tribute to his amazing athleticism, despite his low stature. His teammates, though, called him Midget, or even more commonly, Midge. But that little guy was a terrier at third base. He totally dominated the Hot Corner, and despite his size, nobody, ever, intimidated him. And he had an amazing eye at the plate. He wasn't as powerful as the really big men, but he connected for at least a single an amazing proportion of the time, and he was the coaches' favored leadoff man.

"As a very canny third-baseman, De Ros was intensely interested in my play at short and Mike's at second. Since he was a lordly senior and I was a lowly freshman, De Ros and I would only play in a handful of games together, but when we did, it was like hydromatic gears, remarkably smooth and silky. 

"De Ros was roughly half a foot shorter than I was, but he had a singularly beautiful build. He was a real, true gym rat, and he worked on every muscle group in turn. Nothing to excess, mind you, but he was the image of perfect athletic development. Overdevelopment, any coach will tell you, is the kiss of death for a baseball player, since that extra muscle mass merely slows you down and reduces your flexibility, and De Ros, I think, just hit the perfect point. And he was remarkably good-looking. He had longish fluffy black hair, and notable dark and thick eyebrows; and on his cheeks and his square cleft chin there almost always was a thick stubble. His eyes were large and light blue, his skin comparatively pale, despite his endless hours of practice under the California sun. It was a highly dramatic combination, and whenever he walked into a room, every head turned. Most people, I think, considered him one of the handsomest guys they'd ever seen.

"His size, I think, contributed to his rather arrogant manner. When he entered a room, even just a chem lab, he, well, swaggered, a little bantam rooster. But his message was definitely, 'Don't even think of fucking with me.' And you know, I don't think anyone ever did. But despite his arrogant manner, I eventually came to know that, in reality, he was something of a fraud. He was in fact, he most sentimental and softhearted guy on the team. Late in the season, for instance, he learned that Kip, my 16-year-old terrier-dachshund mix back home had recently died. He looked me up and spent almost two hours with me, while I told him stories about Kip and me exploring all over the Big Thicket. I actually could not remember a time in my boyhood when Kippy was not at my side. When De Ros left there were tears welling up in his eyes. Today he's an attorney with the Oregon SPCA.

"But it wasn't the softhearted De Ros who strode into the shower room back in October of my freshman year, it was the arrogant, swaggering De Ros. We were alone, and De Ros takes the station immediately next to me. He stands in the warm spray, and closes his eyes for a few seconds as the water courses over his essentially perfect chest, and down his rippling torso, through the dense hair of his lower belly and pubic bush. It's only a matter of seconds until his arterial blood has pumped his cock full and then to overfull as it rises and stands rigid and upright. It may have only been six inches in length, but it was a thick sucker.

"Standing now only inches from me, he puts his hands on his pecs, and slowly lets them wander down his torso to his lower belly and then his cock, which he grasps with his right hand, his left hand cradling his surprisingly big balls. 

"Tauntingly, he goes, "Oh, Jeff, man does this feel great! Gonna take slow and easy this time!" as, say, he'd tease his nips and caress his chest with his left hand and stroke his rock-hard cock with his right. And I'd just stand there under the spray, my cock like iron, sticking upright, forbidden so much as to touch it really, but fascinated, mesmerized by my teammate's Dionysian antics. De Ros, in his arrogance, drew nearer and nearer to me, until we were only the merest inches away, and he stared me right in the face: or more precisely, right up into my face, since I towered over him. But, fascinated as I was by De Ros, I could not turn my eyes away for even a second, as I waited patiently – or would that be impatiently – while he played with himself in a half-dozen different ways, slowly and inventively, until finally, finally! he eventually began to stroke for final results. And then, with a deep, profound sigh of satisfaction, he'd shot onto me. Actually most of his cum shot onto my thigh, only a small bit splattering onto my cock, since due to our height difference, it was several inches higher than his. Times like that I'll never forget. They were deeply exciting; though much more deeply frustrating, I can assure you. One thing is certainly true, however. That shower tradition really definitely went a long way toward building and maintaining a spirit went far beyond teamwork: It built brotherhood of the most profound kind."

Listening to Jeff, I could no longer sustain the tension of his cock massaging my balls as I stroked him. I scooted downward, so that I was now straddling Jeff's knees, and then, in the interest of comfort, I raised up my right knee and Jeff slipped his left leg out; and then I raised my left knee, and Jeff slipped his right leg out, so that I was now kneeling between his widespread legs. And I now knew that I was going to focus all my attention upon the great cock rising right before my face.