Date: Fri, 27 Sep 2013 18:42:09 -0700 (PDT)
From: Ben Ezra Jacobson <ben_ezra_jacobson@yahoo.com>
Subject: Henri

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HENRI
By
Ben Ezra Jacobson
Chapter one

     There was a small boy at the high school that I had attended many
years ago.  His name was Henri Lafayette Chateau.  His grandparents had
come to the mid west United States from southern France around 1900.  They
were farm folks, specializing in dairy and the making of exotic cheeses.
Henri's grandfather died at the close of World War two.  His father,
Maurice named him Henri after his grandfather.

     Henri was as American as the next school boy but his French name
caused him to be ridiculed by his classmates.  He was a only five feet six
inches as a freshman in high school and grew very little through the time
he was admitted to college.  He weight was sparse as a freshman.  His
features were acne, pale skin, wild uncontrollable hair...and his ever sad
countenance.  Maurice had little time for the boy because of the farm...and
Henri's slight build made him unsuitable for farm work.  He was relegated
to the kitchen to help in domestic duties.  His mother was a paragon of
kindness and she taught him to cook.  Under her tutelage, he learned to
draw, became interested in gardening and raising flowers.

     Another person of great influence who came into his life, was his
Uncle Tomas Paul Chateau...his father's youngest brother and the only one
of their family to have gone to college.  He did so on a full
scholarship...for indeed...Tomas was a young man with a brilliant mind for
facts and a cunning ability to make things work for him.  Maurice loved his
younger brother and contributed where he could to his education expenses.
He was very proud of him and invited his brother to come to the farm as
often as he could.  In the eyes of these French expatriates...family was
everything.

     Henri struggled with school.  He was not brilliant like his uncle and
he did not have the strength to follow in his dad's foot steps.  He longed
to be successful in some way that would make him popular with his peers,
both today and down the road.  He envisioned himself possibly as an
accomplished artist but clearly lacked the skill.  His drawings were
good...but not great.  His family spoke both English in public and French
on the farm with one another.  Perhaps he could be a teacher and teach
French.  Ideas ran through his head constantly...but again, he had little
idea how to proceed.  Uncle Tomas came to stay for a month or so in early
summer and with him, he brought a new camera...one that took 35 millimeter
photos and was totally automatic.  He would get up at the crack of dawn and
wander the farm and woods to get sunrise shots of the animal life and the
woods, where he found frothy ferns and glistening spider
 webs.  Henri became intrigued at the photos his uncle was producing and
asked questions.  Tomas noting the boy's interest...started teaching him
about how cameras were made and how to use them for the best shots.

     At first, a lot of the photos were out of focus and less than
satisfactory.  Henri would hand the camera back to Tomas and say, "I can't
get it."

     "Of course you can..but you need to be patient.  Skill doesn't come
just for the asking...you have to work to get it," replied his Uncle.

     "But, I thought I had done everything right and still the photo was
out of focus...," said the boy.

     "When you are looking through the view finder... press the button down
half way and wait until it focuses.  If you are still looking through the
view finder...you will see it change.  You have to wait for it.  Then snap
the photo.  Here...try it again," and he passed the camera back to the boy.

     This time, Henri looked through the view finder at the big spider
working on the lacy web...depressed the button half way and heard and felt
the camera focus, then snapped the photo.  When the film was processed, the
photo was perfect.

     Henry was all smiles.  Tomas put his hand on his head and ruffled his
hair.  "Good job, kid," I may make a photographer out of you yet.

     "Would you help me learn how to be a photographer.  This might be what
I am looking for."

      "Sure kid...if that is what you want."

     Henri's countenance fell...and he looked to the ground.

     "What is it." Tomas asked?

     "You will be moving on, next month to a real job...and I will be on my
own again.  Dad would never spend the money to help me get started."

     "Maybe and maybe not.  Your dad wants me to come work for him on the
farm...at least until autumn.  I told him I would think about it."

     "Do it...and you could teach me."


      "You would like it if I did? "

      "Yes...I want you to stay.  Please... stay," he had stammered out.

     When Tomas agreed to stay...Henri's parents put him in the
attic...where the guest room was.  It was clean and comfortable...but very
old fashioned...iron bed with antique furniture and a braided rug on the
floor.  There was a bank of windows on each end that let a nice breeze come
through...but even so, during the heat of summer...the room was hot.

     Tomas helped Maurice with the dairy cattle and making cheeses...and in
his spare time continued to tutor Henri in photography.  Tomas sat on the
porch one evening showing the boy a new digital camera he had ordered and
let him shoot a few shots with it.  Henri scooted closer and Tomas put his
arm around the boy as they rocked in the wooden porch swing.

     "I don't want you to leave.  Stay with us...forever."

     Tomas laughed, "well I am going to stay for the rest of the summer
sport...but in the fall...I may have to go to work to get a career going."

     The boy leaned his head against his uncles shoulder and found that
Uncle Tomas did not push him away.  Tomas was a kind, loving man...and they
sat and rocked...until the mosquitoes drove them from the porch.  Tomas
turned and kissed the youth on top of the head...and said, "let's get in
the house before they pack us off."  They dashed for the door.

     Inside...mom was serving fresh peach cobbler with some home made ice
creame that she had churned in the ice cream freezer that afternoon.  It
was great.

     "Tomas," said his sister-in-law, " It is so hot in your room on the
third floor...would you prefer to sleep down stairs tonight until we can
get a window fan for your room.  You can sleep on the sofa in the living
room or we can set up a cot in the breeze way."

     "Naw...I will be fine upstairs," he answered back.

     "Stay in my room.  We can talk more about photography," Henri spoke
up.
      "Well...there you go," said Maurice.  "Henri will share his bed with
you...then you are on the side of the house with all the big trees and the
best ventilation."

     Tomas went up to the attic and brought down the things he would
need...and went to Henri's room.  Henri had a big room, with a full size
bed.  The sheets and pillow cases were far from new but they were clean.
Henri took off his jeans, tee shirt, and socks and climbed in.  Uncle Tomas
following his example did the same.  What the family did not know...in the
privacy of his own sleeping quarters...Tomas always slept naked.

     The two chatted away for nearly an hour...before they decided that
further conversation would disturb the rest of the family.  Henri rolled
over and hugged his uncle and thanked him again for staying.

     "You're a good kid Henri...but you know...you look more like a "Hank"
to me...so I am going to start calling you Hank."

     Henri laughed, " Hank sounds butch to me and the kids at school treat
me more like bitch."

     "Yeah...the world is full of bullies and ignorant little sons-of
-bitches like that Hank.  Despite those kinds of people...there are a lot
of good people in the world...and you will find them."

     "Thanks, Uncle Tomas," he replied back.

     "Listen kid, while we are changing things...from now on...to you...I
am Uncle Tom or better yet...just Tom..  There is only seven years between
our ages...but I think a young man of 15 should be able to call his uncle
who is 22...by his first name.  Agreed," he stated.

     "Agreed...ah...Tom," he laughed.

     Tom reached over and ruffled Hanks hair again.

     Both rolled toward the window where the breeze was coming in and
despite the sounds of crickets and the night bugs...went soundly to sleep.


     At breakfast the next morning...they were "Hank" and "Tom."  Each
attended their respective chores during the morning...and sat next to each
other at lunch...where the conversation covered a wide gamut of subject
matter.

     A change began to come over Hank.  He started washing his face more to
keep the oil off of his skin and Tom bought him some topical antiseptics at
the drug store in town...to use.  None of this was discussed in front of
the family.  Hank seemed happier and began to have more feelings of self
worth.  In the evening, Tom would coach him with reading and grammar.  Tom
would tell him that if you are going to work in the real world...you need
to know how to speak business language.  He coaxed the boy on how to
function in social settings.

     "Don't be a wall floor, Hank.  Talk to people.  You need to learn not
to feed the fire of ridicule.  You only speak `low life' when you are
dealing with `low life'.  Speak simply, calmly and be politely interested
in what they have to say...and it will do wonders for you."

     "Tom took Hank with him in his truck, to town...and encouraged him to
speak to the merchants and people in the stores.  It was a bit difficult at
first.  He was not eloquent...but he was learning.

     "By the time you are ready for college, you will be able to speak to
anyone," Tom told him.

     "Mom and dad don't have the money to send me to college...and I'm not
smart enough.  I was born with the three fundamental curses...ugly, dumb
and poor," Hank related.

    Tom grabbed him by the shoulders and turned him around briskly...and
looked him directly in the eye...and kneeling down, said, "That's bull shit
kid.  Listen to me.  Your acne is clearing up because you are taking care
of yourself.  You are only as dumb as you allow yourself to be.  Study and
work at it...and knowledge will come.  You are not some poor kid from the
sticks...your family has a successful farm that is going to get better.  If
they can not provide for you...I will.  You can do anything if your are
willing to work for it.  Now don't ever lay this poor, dumb and ugly on
yourself again when you are in my presence.  Do you understand me."


    "Get in the truck Hank...we need to go home," he said.

     Instead of driving to the house, Tom drove to the woods by the lake
that joined the dairy farm to a neighbor's farm...and parked in the
clearing just off the lane.

     He pulled Hank over to him and put his arm around the boys shoulder.

     "I'm sorry I was so hard on you back there Hank...but I had to break
that self destructive mind set you were getting ready to tread.  Don't you
know by now...that we care deeply for you and want you to be happy and
successful.  Have I wasted all the advise I have given to you," he asked.

     "No sir.  You are my only real friend.  And I can't take it if you are
mad at me.," Hank answered back...and the tears began to flow.

     Tom sat with his arm around the boy and let him sob away for a few
minutes.  Little bit by little bit, his composure returned...and he tried
to laugh it off.

     "Come on Hank...let's go for a swim."

     Tom jumped out of the drivers side of the truck and went around to the
passenger side and grabbed his nephews by the hand and yanked him from the
cab.  He walked to the lake's edge with his arm around the boys neck and
giving him a Dutch rub on the top of his head.  At the beach...Tom took his
jeans and shirt off, then his boxers and socks and ran into the water.
Hank stood there with his mouth open in unbelief and quickly followed suit.
In the water...they swam across the narrow straight and back...splashed
water in each other's face and frolicked in the summer sun.

     "While you were in the library...I went to the burger joint and got us
some cheese burgers, chips and soda," said Tom.  "Hungry?"

      "Sure Am," Hank replied.

     Tom ran to the truck and got the food and came back to the beach.
They

 sat in the shade...naked...and ate the food.  If eating food outdoors is
the best of summer delights...doing it naked has to be even better.

     Hank had not seen many males naked...other than in physical education
when the boys showered together at school.  He was not well hung and the
other kids made fun of him.  His shyness had not made it any easier.  He
knew that as a sophomore in high school...he would have to shower in the
gym showers again...and was dreading the thought of it.  Tom on the other
hand was well endowed...he guessed.  His maleness was the largest he had
ever seen and the nest of dark brown hair that encircled his genitalia was
thick and straight.  He could not seem to pull his eyes away from it.  He
suddenly noticed that his uncle was watching him.

     "It's OK Hank...all guys compare their manhood with the other guys
around them.  You will grow.  Your height may not grow much more...but your
weight will pick up a little and your cock and balls will grow until you
are in your early twenties.  Take my word for it.  When I was your age...I
wasn't hung as well as you are right now."

     Hank smiled, "Really?  I figured I would always be deficient there as
well...his voice breaking away.  He realized that he was putting himself
down again.  "But you are proof...that it will happen," so I am not going
to fret over that idea again."

     "If it is any comfort to you...there are a lot of guys with small
hardware that have great orgasms when they are older," said Tom.

      Hank wrinkled up his face and squinted his eye brows.

      "You don't know what I mean do you," Tom responded.  "When you Jack
Off and it feels good at the end and you shoot a load of cum...that's an
orgasm."

     "Oh...I get it," the boy said as he looked to the ground.

     "You do know about jacking off, right," Tom asked again.

     "Yeah," Hank responded in a low almost inaudible voice.

     "Hank...that's nothing to be ashamed about.  All guys do it."

     "Really...all guys," the boy asked?

     "Well, all the ones who tell the truth," he said.

     "It was readily taught that sex was to perpetuate the human race...but
it was also given as a pleasure to man kind.  If you have an itch...you
scratch.  If you nose runs...you blow your nose.  If your system is full of
processed food...you eliminate it.  Your dick is the same way.  You build
up semen and if you do nothing...the body will ejaculate it as a wet dream.
Have you ever experienced that," Tom asked.

     "Yeah.  I had to get up and change my underwear."

     "Right," said Tom...but if you are all anxious and jittery...you can
put your hand around your dick and masturbate...Jack Off...and shoot a load
of cum and your body will settle down physically and mentally.  If God had
not made it feel good and there was no pleasure in doing it...most of the
people who walk on the planet would not be here."

     Hank laughed until his sides ached...he looked at his uncle and burst
out laughing again.

     "I never, ever thought of it that way Tom..."

      They both laughed and laid back in the grass to enjoy the sun on
their bodies.  Hank rolled over and looking at his uncle...noticed that Tom
was getting an erection.  He looked into his uncles face and saw no malice.
Hank reached over and touched it...and pulled his hand back.

     "It is OK Hank...you can touch it," Tom said.  Hank reached over a
second time and laid his hand on it.  It felt warm.  He wrapped his fingers
around it...and it felt hard and thick...along with being warm.  He slid
his hand across the head of it and felt secretions.

     "Pre-cum," his uncle told him.  " It clears the path way so that when
you have an ejaculation...the semen can get out without being
contaminated...if fertilization is wanted."

     Hank ran his hands over Toms scrotum and felt the testicles within.
The straight, brown, coarse, groin hair felt warm in his hands.  He moved
his hand up to grab around Tom's penis again...and felt it pulsate a bit.
Looking into his uncle's face...he saw him smiling...enjoying the touch of
his young nephew.  He opened his eyes and smiled.

     "It's OK Hank.  I don't mind at all...but you don't want to ever grab
another guy's cock unless you're sure he doesn't care.  That is why so many
males do not enjoy one another.  They are afraid of being accused of being
queer.

     "The boys at school have called me queer and when my acne was so
bad...some of the meaner ones called me `prick-face'."

     "Those are the ass holes I was telling you about.  There are always
those who get their jollies in making others miserable.  You will turn the
table on them someday...or life will.  Best to just let it go kid.  Grudges
get awfully heavy to carry if you don't cast them off.

     Hank sat up in the grass and run his fingers through the brown chest
hair on his uncle's body and then touched his nipples.  He lay back down in
the grass...this time with his legs at his uncle's shoulders and began to
explore his uncle's groin again.
    Tom reached over and put his hand over Hanks genitals.  Hank jumped a
little.  "Lay back Hank," Tom told him.  "This is something adults are
never suppose to do with minors...so you need to keep it just between
ourselves."  Hank nodded agreement...and Tom took hank's dick in his hand
and began to tease it a bit and to rub Hanks balls.  Hank got an instant
erection...and much to his surprise...his dick was not as small as he had
told his uncle that it was.

     "Six inches is not bad for fifteen Hank...by the time you are 19 I
would wager that you will have eight or nine."

      "Really."

      "Remember what I have told you...it is not the size but how you use
it and to what degree of pleasure you allow yourself."

     Tom spit into his hand and stroked his nephew's hard cock with
slippery motion.  On the sixth stroke...Hank experienced his first
ejaculation not of his own hand.

                                                             CALL ME HANK

     Supper that night was a cook out.  Some of the neighbors came over
with offerings to be barbecued and plenty of side dishes.  Everyone seemed
in a happy spirit.  Tomorrow would be the Independence Day Celebration and
fireworks at City Park.  To kick off the festivities...Hank's parents,
neighbors and some other family members would get together for this
pre-celebration.  Josh Yoder brought his fiddle and treated everyone to
some excellent blue grass.  The folks had put candles into fruit jars and
with some thin wire...hung them in the trees around the table where the
revelers would be eating.  Hank's dad and Uncle had sprayed the patio area
with an insect fogger twice in the afternoon and now with evening
approaching...it looked like the party would be mostly insect free.  Ben
Murphy from across the lake had brought water melons...and they were iced
down in a new feed trough.  The ladies circle at church had made pies,
cakes and
 cobblers and the church brethren had set up over a dozen tables with
matching fold down chairs from the church basement.  It was going to be a
great evening.

     Every one staked out a place to sit...with most of the women sitting
together and most of the men sitting together...but the Chateau family sat
together as a family...near the head of the table.  Tom picked out a place
to sit...and put a reserved sign on an index card next to him for Hank.

     The food was excellent...the desserts even more so.  The melons were
consumed fast...and some of the ladies had made home made ice cream with
real cream from the Chateau family cows.  If a scale had to be assigned to
the evening...on a scale of one to ten...the evening was a twelve.

     Several people were asked to do presentations.  There were some songs,
some readings, a couple of hymns and some poems to be read.  Henri was
assigned to read a "4th of July" poem by Walt Whitman.  He did not want to
do it.

     "You can do this Hank...You know you can...I know you can, Give them
Hell..." Tom whispered to him.

     The local clergyman stood up and said, "We will now have a Forth of
July Poem written by that great author, Walt Whitman...which will be read
by little Henri Chateau.  Everyone laughed and some went "boo."...all done
in jest.

     Hank froze.

      Scooting his chair back...Tom stood up...and looking at the crowd
with a deep scorn...said at the top of his voice... " You're wrong
Reverend...little Henri Chateau...is not available this evening.  He has
left the country and will never be back...but my nephew...Hank will do the
reading.  He is a smart kid, with a good skills in these matters.  And if
any of you ignorant sons-of -bitches say one word against him...I'll kick
the shit out of you.  Everyone froze.  Hank stood up and began to speak.

    " I hear America singing, the varied carols I hear.
       Those of mechanics, each one singing his as it should be blithe and
strong,
       The carpenter singing his, as he measures his plank or beam,
        The mason singing his as he makes ready for work, or leaves off
work,
        The boatman singing what belongs to him his boat, the deckhand sing
on
                The Steamboat deck,
        The shoe maker singing as he sits on his bench,
                The hatter singing as he stands...
        The wood-cutters song, the plough-boy's on his way in the morning,
                Or at noon intermission or at sundown.
        The delicious singing of the mother, or of the young wife at work,
                Or of the girl sewing or washing.
        Each singing what belongs to him or her and to none else,
        The day that belongs to the day-at night the party of young
fellows,
                Robust, friendly.
        Singing with open mouths their strong melodious songs.

     Tom stood up and started to applaud.  Then Maurice, Hank's dad,
Maggie, his mother stood up and applauded.  Cheers came from the group and
laughter and calls of congratulations and back patting.

     Hank...held up his hands for the people to stop...and said to the
rest., "my uncle has been tutoring me all summer.  My speech has improved
and so has my attitude about how I look at things.  My name is Hank.
Please...call me Hank.

     He sat down and again the applause started up.  But the Reverend stood
up...and held up his hands for silence...  "It is the nature of man to
improve.  We have seen that tonight.  Hank...I am very proud of you my
young friend.  And Tom...your message was a bit coarse...but we got the
picture.  Thank you."

      Again laughter broke out...but this time without malice.  People
tried to reach out to Hank to compliment his reading of Mr. Whitman's poem
and to shake hands.  As Hank stepped in front of Tom to escape the confines
of the table...Tom patted him on the butt.  Hank smiled.  That was the best
greeting he could have had that evening.

     The party broke up just before midnight.  Although everyone was
tired...it had been a great success.  The church tables were folded and
stacked as were the chairs.  Some of the friends would be back tomorrow for
more food and festivities.  After the remains of the evening meals was
brought into the house and put away...the family gathered on the front
porch for a bit to enjoy the breeze.

     "Hank" said dad..."Aunt Betty and Uncle Charles will be using your
bedroom for the night.  Do you mind sleeping in the attic with your uncle?

     " No Dad...that's fine," Hank replied.

     "Tom, you don't mind sharing your room with Hank, do you?"

     "Not at all Maurice...next to you...he is the best man I know,"
replied Tom.

     Everyone laughed including Hank.  He sat in the porch swing between
his dad and his uncle...leaning against Tom more than his dad.

     "It has been a great day...mother...but I am ready for bed," dad said
as he stood up to stretch.  "Good night everyone."

     One by one...the family split off to their respective rooms.  Hank
followed Tom up the dark stairs to the attic.  On the second bend...he
reached out and patted his uncle on his butt.  In the dark...the only sound
was a chuckle from ahead.

A Monster in the Attic

     The wind up alarm clock on the bed side table said 1:00 AM.  Neither
turned on any of the lights...but there was enough moon light to see shapes
in the dark.  Tom went on one side of the bed and Hank on the other and
turned back the blanket and sheet.  The room had a great breeze coming
through the two banks of windows.  A sheet might be needed by morning...but
the blanket was just used as a spread.  Tom took the left...which he
usually did and Hank the right.
      While Tom brushed his teeth in the little bathroom to the side...Hank
pulled off his sneakers and socks, unbuckled his belt and removed his jeans
and then his white tee shirt.  He ran in fingers through his chest hair and
scratched a couple of mosquito bites on his neck.  As Tom came back into
the room, Hank looked at him...grinned a big grin and stepped out of his
boxers.  He was now standing naked before his uncle.  Tom took off his
shirt and stepped out of his cowboy boots.  He had no socks on.  When he
dropped his pants...he revealed that he was not wearing underwear.

     They had each showered before the party and put on clean clothing...so
there seemed no reason to run a lot of water at 1:00 AM in the morning and
disturb the family.

     "Thanks for what you did for me this evening Tom," Hank said to his
uncle, "I would not have been able to do it without your introduction."  He
was grinning from ear to ear.

     "Yes you could have Hank...you just did not know it yet," he replied
back.

     Hank scooted closer... "no...it was you who changed the peoples mind
about my slowness."

     "Bull-shit," he returned... " I just got their attention...you did the
rest."

     Hank leaned over and kissed his uncle on the cheek.

     "Kid... that is not the manly way to kiss a person," he laughed...and
grabbing his nephew around the neck, pulled him face to face and planted a
wet kiss on Hank's lips.

      " Wow...you took my breath away," he returned.

      "Ok kid...lay here on top of me...full length...now relax to the
point that you feel like a limp, wet chamois...now I am going to put my
lips on yours and just hold it there."

     Hank tried to relax, laying full length on his uncle's body while he
pressed his lips to Hanks... "now turn your head first to one side than the
other."  It felt good.  Even Tom's breath smelled sweet like fresh
toothpaste.
      "Now part your lips just a little as if you were going to speak," Tom
said...and Hank did so.  Tom's tongue slipped into Hanks mouth and caressed
the inside.  Hank liked it and began to make soothing whimpers.  Tom felt
his nephew's dick suddenly getting very hard as he lay on top of him.  That
little two inch shorty had just grown to mature full length.

     "Roll over Hank," he said and got up and took a retractable tape
measure out of a small metal tool box.  "Let's measure that monster."

      Hank glowed when Tom called out 7 1/2 inches...measuring from the
back side of the scrotum.  Had he measured from the front side...it would
still have been six inches...but what the hell...he was boosting the kids
ego.

     As Tom walked back to the bed...Hank crawled over to the edge and
popped Tom's dick into his mouth and began to suck it.  Tom went to full
erection is a matter of seconds.  As Hank slid up and down on the thick
shaft...Tom began to feel really great sensations.  He wanted more...but he
was an adult and Hank was still a minor.  This could be dangerous trail to
hike.  Tom pulled back.

     "Scoot over kid...we need to talk."

     " Did I do something wrong Tom," Hank asked...almost fearful.

     "No kid...it's me," he replied.  "Look, you are still a minor and I am
an adult.  If you ever got pissed at me or the law ever found out that I
had plugged an under age kid...it could be jail for years."

     " I won't tell...honest.  You have brought me so much knowledge and
pleasure thus far...I want to experience it all... with you."

     Tom looked at him...and felt the boys desires.  He wanted him just as
bad...but that fear of the future had suddenly scared him.  "I can't...kid.
I have told you too much already and taken you too far.  Any further and I
could end up in a lot of trouble.

     Hank was quiet.  It was like someone had slapped him hard across the
face.  He moved across the bed to his own side with his back to his uncle,
pulled up the sheet and said no more.

      Tom tried to explain further and to apologize...but Hank said not a
word nor looked at him.  Finally, Tom rolled onto his stomach and went to
sleep.  But Hank did not.  He lay on the bed thinking...and when he was
sure that Tom was deep in sleep...he slipped on his clothes and crept down
the stairs.  In about ten minutes he returned.  In his hands was rope.
Nylon rope.  He tied one around each of the bed posts...and eased the other
end around his uncles ankles and then his wrists.  As he cinched them
up...Tom awakened from a groggy restless sleep.

     "What the hell, Hank.  What do you think you are doing?"

      Hank...took some Vaseline out of the medicine chest and lubed Tom's
sphincter and stroking his own cock... pushed in.  Tom made a few grunts
and grinds in protest...but had suddenly became quiet.  Hank pushed deeper
and pulled back...then pushed in again and pulled back.  With a sudden jerk
of his left hand, Tom broke free of the rope that had held him and then
reached over to untie the right side.  He grabbed his nephew and tossed him
over on his own side of the bed and reached around to untie his ankles.

     "What's going on up there Tom?  For crying out loud it's 2:30 in the
morning," came a rough voice from below.

     "There was a rat in my room...I tried to kill it, but it got away."

     "Well knock it off...we'll set some traps in the morning," came
Maurice's voice.

     "You bet," called Tom back to him.

     Tom very quietly folded up the rope and put it in the bottom drawer of
a storage dresser and came back to bed.

     "I know what you are thinking Hank.  If you raped me...then you are
the one who is guilty for our sexual escapades and not me...right?  He
exhaled slowly.

     "Look...there's a better way to do what you were trying to
do...observe", he whispered to Hank.  "I'll move to the edge of the bed
like this...and you stand behind me.  Now as I bend forward...you insert
your dick into my ass."  Getting up on his hands and knees and pushing his
butt towards the edge of the bed...Hank standing behind, easily re-inserted
and finished what he was wanting to do.
      His orgasm and ejaculation were very intense.  It was hard to keep
from yelling because it felt so good...but that would have brought dad up
the stairs and instant retribution.  He carefully crept back onto the bed.
Tom went to the restroom to get rid of the evidence and also came back to
bed.  In his left hand, he carried a towel.  He placed it on the sheet and
told Hank, "Now, Hank...lay down on the towel and face away from me."

     Hank did as he was told, and Tom, dipping into the Vaseline jar
massaged a bit of it onto Hanks orifice.  It felt good.  Hank raised his
right leg to give him better access.  Slowly, Tom began to probe and
penetrate the opening.  He was surprised that Hank did not complain.  If he
was feeling any pain in having his orifice expanded...he did not express
it.  He did continue to push back against his uncle's finger while it was
deep with in.  As Hank tried to relax...Tom switched to two fingers and
stretched.  It took close to a half hour to get him stretched enough that
Tom could get in.  Not only was he long...but thick...and he did not want
to hurt him on his first penetration.  Slowly he eased the head in.  Hank
gasped and reached for his arm.

     "Wait a minute Tom...let me stretch a minute."  In a couple of
seconds...he pulled his hand back, and Tom started to push deeper.  It took
about ten minutes to slowly ease it in...but after the initial shock of
it's presence there...the humping motion began.  It hurt and yet felt
wonderful.  After another five minutes or so...the hurting stopped and the
wonderful increased.  Very slowly Tom pushed in again and pulled back
slowly.  Hank's prostate was young...and it was a plethora of nerve
endings.  Before his uncle got close to getting off, Hank had another
orgasm and shot semen all over the part of the towel that was extending in
front of him.  Tom continue to pump him...for another seven or eight
minutes.  As he finally shot...Hank had a third orgasm but no semen.  By
this time, he was too sensitive to have any more sex this night.  Tom
pulled out...and wiped his dick on the other end of the towel.  They
 would deal with the evidence in the morning.

     Hank scooted close enough to kiss his uncle and then rested his head
on Tom's out stretched arm.

      "Kid if you send me to the big house for this...I will curse your
rotten hide forever...but will love the time we spent doing it."  He
laughed.

      "I can't send you anywhere, Hank replied.  "I raped you and you
defended your self.  Fucking my ass was the only sensible solution to stop
the assault."
      Hank went to sleep in Tom's arms.  The next morning, they both came
down for breakfast about 9:00 AM.  Maurice had a rat trap wrapped up in a
red shop towel...and handed it to him.

     "Unusual for a rat to come into the house this time of year...must
have smelled Maggie's cooking.  Anyway...be careful when you set it unless
you want to break a couple of fingers."

     "I know, Maurice...I have set rat traps before," he chided his older
brother.  The truth of the matter was...that the trap lay on the floor in
the attic without ever being set.  Nothing further was said about it.

     The dairy cows had to be milked and the final preparations made for
the trip into town.  Maurice and Maggie left with Uncle and Aunt about
three in the afternoon.  Hank wanted to wait and drive in with Tom in the
truck.  They would all meet at the Chateaugua barn in the park for supper
around 5:00 PM.  After the family left...Tom got into the shower to clean
up from early this morning and to his surprise, Hank stepped in with him.
That was a new experience for both.  When they got out...and after drying
off...they went out on the porch and sat in the air...both completely
naked.

     "Thanks for this morning, Tom.  It meant a lot to me."

     "I didn't tear you up, did I," said his uncle.  "When you are
young...it is easy to rough up a virgin sphincter."

     "NO I am fine.  Wouldn't mind doing it again," he said.

     "When," said Tom.

     "Now," he said, grinning from ear to ear.

      "Kid, I think I have created a monster," Tom answered back.

     " A monster who thinks you have done more for me than any person I
have ever known," Hank stated.

     "Come on kid...we have an hour."