Date: Sat, 1 May 1999 02:57:32 EDT
From: Nekomis@aol.com
Subject: FAMILY TIES

FAMILY TIES

by Pen Nomen
* * * * * *
This story involves consenting sexual relationships between two adult males. 
If this offends you,  LEAVE!!.  Why are you here??

* * * * * *


It all started during the weekend of my niece's wedding.  Jonathan had just 
completed general surgery residency and was working as an emergency room 
physician while he tried to decide whether to do a further, more specialized 
surgery residency.  He was staying at my in-law's house for the wedding, and 
we were gathered at dinner table two days before the vows.  My wife, Judith, 
is his mother's much younger sister, and he had been the ring-bearer at our 
wedding sixteen years before when he was twelve.

Judith and I were married when we were twenty years old, and it had, for the 
most part, been a good marriage until a couple of years ago.  The last couple 
of years had been pretty rough, and Judith and I just agreed for trial 
separation the week before.  She would have our two children, Geoff, aged 14, 
and Tracey, aged 10.  We were still friendly and, in fact, the best of 
friends, but something of the romance we'd once passionately shared had 
deserted us.

Jonathan's mother, Allison, began to question his recent break-up with Sarah, 
with whom he'd been having what looked like an alter-bound relationship for 
the past two years.  Before that he'd broken up with Audrey after an almost 
two-year fling.  And before that, Alicia.

"Are you ever going to get married?" his mother asked in exasperation.

"Probably not," he said.

This was met with some consternation around the table.  "What do you mean," 
my father-in-law asked.  All heads turned toward Jonathan awaiting his 
response.

Jonathan blushed and looked uncomfortable.  "I've been postponing this for a 
long time," he said.  "But this is as good a time to tell all of you 
something about your son-grandson-nephew-cousin while you are all together.  
I've fought against this, but I've recently come to terms with it and hope 
you will, too.  I'm gay.  I've been fond of Sarah and before her, Audrey, and 
before her, Alicia.  But that's as far as it was ever going to go.  Fondness. 
I had sex with them all on a fairly regular basis.  But without any passion 
or personal involvement, at least on my part.  I've been seeing a therapist 
for two years, and I've come to realize that all my passion over all my life 
has been directed toward boys or, more realistically, men.  I'm not going to 
be in denial any longer about it."

The initial shock of the assembled family group didn't admit of any reaction 
until he'd finished.  Then, however, everyone seemed to have something say.  
Fred, my father-in-law, sputtered and cursed and mumbled hexes against 
faggotry.  Carla, Jonathan's mother, said, "I'm just glad your father's died 
before hearing this.  How could you?  We'll send you to another 
therapist....a psychiatrist.  This has got to be just a phase you're going 
through."


"No grandson of mine........"  "What will our friends say?"  Voices were upon 
top of voices in anger, denial, disgust, rejection, and the volume only got 
louder with each second.  I looked at Jonathan, his blond good looks almost 
ready to crumple, his strong slender body erect in his chair as if almost 
ready to stand and flee.  All of sudden I was overcome with a feeling of 
tenderness and protectiveness .

"Wait a minute, dammit," I hollered, loudly enough to win momentary silence.  
Before they could start again, I said, "Listen to you!  This is still 
Jonathan of whom we have all been so proud.  He's still Jonathan.  He's still 
the guy we've all played games with, eaten with, done things together, 
loved.....  What's changed?  How can you all be so vicious and inconsiderate 
of that Jonathan!!??  Nothing's changed about him that wasn't true yesterday. 
Did you just quit loving him and wanting the best for him two minutes ago?"

Relatives began to lose their condemning attitudes as they considered and 
remembered....  Finally, Fred - give him credit - said, "You're right, 
Andrew.  Thank you."  Then turning to Jonathan, he said, "Jonathan, Andrew's 
right.  You're still my grandson, and I love you, and I'm still proud of you. 
I don't understand how you've come to this decision, and I hope you'll come 
to your senses, but if you don't.  You can trust me.  I love you and I'll 
stand with you."  Carla's belligerence faded more slowly, but, at last, even 
she cupped her hand over son's still youthfully smooth cheek and nodded and 
smiled at her father's words through trembling lips and slows tears brimming 
over her eyelids.  Jonathan flashed a warmly grateful glance at me.  There 
was other discussion but that was essentially it.

A few days later, the bell to my apartment rang just as I was finishing my 
shower.  I didn't react at first until I remembered that Judith didn't live 
here any more.  Just a minute I called loudly enough to be heard, I hoped.  
Hastily slipping on sweat pants, the first thing handy, I hurried to the 
front door and opened it.  There stood Jonathan.

......At this point, gentle reader, before proceeding further, perhaps a 
different perspective is warranted.

Jonathan's Perspective

The chain of events of the past few days had been both liberating and 
unsettling.  Not too long ago, I'd have been sure that I would never "out" 
myself in the manner I had.  I still didn't know how far abroad my now open 
sexual orientation would become known.  Would it affect nonsexual 
relationships with my friends?  With my employer?  With patients?  These 
questions had only begun to occur after the cat was out of the bag, so to 
speak.

I was particularly fearful of how it might affect my relationship with Uncle 
Andy, no matter how staunchly and warmly he'd defended my bombshell 
announcement of the previous week.  He had, of course played a larger role in 
all of this than he could possibly suspect.

He'd been my idol from the day I'd met him.  Good looking, athletic, sharply 
intelligent, warmly compassionate toward other people, intuitive, perceptive, 
witty, unaggressively candid and open.  He was everything I wanted to be as a 
man.  He was everything I wanted to have as a male companion.

It went back to the day I'd first met him.  I was eleven and he'd just become 
engaged to my Aunt Judith.  Unlike all the other adults I'd been around, he 
didn't talk down to me.  He treated me like an equal and didn't act like I 
was too young and ignorant to understand whatever the subject matter he might 
express.  This image of him would always stick with me: he was staying for a 
week with my Gramps, and I was also staying there for a few days while my 
parents were in London.  The first day he and I were at the swimming pool, I 
couldn't help but notice his truly beautiful body.  He was in a yellow Speedo 
swimsuit cut high on his hips and clinging to his butt and pelvic area like a 
second skin.  It was, of course, late in the summer, and he was quite tanned. 
I don't think there could have been an ounce of fat on him.  Every move 
caused muscles to ripple and stand out in relief.   Wide shouldered, deep 
chested and narrow waisted, his long legs were superbly proportioned.  There 
was very little body hair that I could see....just a dusting on his legs and 
a little trail of dirty blond hair emerging from his Speedos and running up 
to his navel.  It was hard for me not to take a noticeably long stare at his 
barely covered genitals.  There was little to wonder about them, since his 
two oval shaped testicles and his rather large penis could be seen pretty 
clearly beneath the spandex covering.  After the swim, in the men's shower in 
the cabana at the far end of the pool away from the house, nothing was left 
to the imagination.  I, with my little boy's weewee and scrawny physique, was 
embarrassed to be naked in the presence of such physical perfection....at 
least that's how I thought of his of physical appearance and I'm absolutely 
sure that was not just one person's opinion.  What little had been concealed 
was now revealed in it's full glory.  His penis must have been five or six 
inches long, even in its unaroused state.  His pubes consisted of a rather 
sparse, vaguely triangular patch of dirty blond, slightly curling hair with 
that path of hair I'd seen emerging from his Speedos trailing from the middle 
of the top line of the triangle to his navel.  I tried not to stare but I'm 
sure I did and I was fairly sure he'd noticed my staring but was too kind to 
give any indication.

In later years, as I'd been growing up and maturing, I was with him on 
innumerable occasions of a similar sort, and, although I took no special note 
of it then, I now know from my physician's perspective that he maintained a 
remarkably youthful perfection as the years passed from his third to the 
beginning of his fourth decade.  By that time, though, I knew that such 
perfection didn't just happen.  He worked hard at it, and he taught me to do 
the same.  We ran together, spotted each other in working with free weights.  
He taught be rudiments of martial arts which he'd studied from childhood and 
could claim a fair mastery over.  He taught me dive and control my body in 
the air as it twisted and turned in the air.  He'd been a gymnast from 
highschool through college and had almost made the Olympic team his third 
year in college.

When I dropped my bombshell at Gramps' house before my cousin's wedding, 
there was one person who dominated my mind and had unknowingly brought me to 
that openness and forthrightness.  He was the man I'd had a "crush" on for 
the last sixteen years.  Not that he had in any way encouraged it or was even 
aware of it.  But my imagination was full of those carefully stored memories 
of his charm and beauty.

And now, of all things, he'd been my champion with my family when I'd been 
almost overwhelmed by the initial anger, outrage and hostility that greeted 
my "outing."  I couldn't bear not to know the how and why of his staunch 
defense of me and who I was.

Andrew's perspective

I suppose some deep background on my own experience and attitudes is in order.

I'd been an only child of aging parents, both of them having been in their 
forties when I was born.  My father was fairly wealthy but not filthy rich.  
Mother had a trust fund set up for her by her own grandfather.  It was to 
last for her lifetime and then pass to me.  When she died I'd actually be 
pretty rich (not filthy but not too far from it).

Both my parents were affectionate and loved me a great deal.  They never 
seemed to be able to shake the feeling that they didn't deserve a child after 
they'd passed age of expecting one.  Often I'd catch one or the other of them 
looking at me with pride and barely concealed delight.  I guess I'd have been 
pretty insufferably spoiled if I hadn't had enough sense to keep things in a 
balanced perspective.  I went to a private day school in the city where I 
lived (alright; no coyness: New York New York it's a wonderful town).  I 
excelled in sports throughout my elementary and secondary years.  It wasn't 
until well up into highschool years that I came to realize the real reason 
for my devotion to sports.  It was the locker room.  There was nothing that 
thrilled me more than being in a locker room with its smell of sweaty male 
bodies and in the shower with a bunch of studly looking guys naked and 
soaping themselves up in such a way as to be positively erotic.  I was always 
very discreet where and how long my eyes landed.  I became adept at seeing 
things well out of the corner of my eye.  Sometimes the action in the locker 
room became so exciting that I'd start to feel my cock begin to engorge and 
swell.  At those times, I'd simply turn around and face the locker or shower 
wall mentally reciting poetry to myself to nip tree in the bud, so to speak.  
I became a sort of connoisseur of cocks....sizes, shapes, colors.  I was 
always attracted by white guy's cocks and had little interest in black guys 
except as a matter of fun.  Some of the guys had cocks that looked 
permanently bruised they were so dark and blue.  In highschool, I became very 
close friends with Danny Spencer and we roomed together when we finally went 
off to Harvard. But during the last two years we were almost inseparable, 
spending the night with each other at least once a week.  Danny was a good 
looking young athlete, himself.  Muscular and graceful.  Like all teenagers 
we masturbated frequently, first by ourselves, then together and then, 
finally each of stroking the other's cock until orgasm.

That's as far as it ever went with me: jerking Danny to climax.  I liked 
holding his cock in my hand, though.  Warm and large and smooth and vibrant.  
I used to fantasize about those times and relive the feeling I had as held 
Danny's cock in my hand and stroked him to climax. I could recreate the 
memory of the feel of my hand around the soft, warm skin around a hard flesh, 
the scent of his sweat, urine and semen in his pubes, the excitement of 
feeling his cock swell in my hand and spasm as he ejaculated.  The semen on 
my hands, and, once, even the taste as I tasted some of it as he lay panting 
with his eyes closed after climaxing.  Danny, on the other hand, rather 
quickly and naturally graduated to more intense sex...including oral sex.  
Before long he was  sucking  my cock fairly often.  I never reciprocated 
though, holding on to my denial of any interest in such a thing.  By the time 
I'd finished my undergraduate studies and MBA at college and had been married 
for several years. I seldom thought of it except during sex with Judith when 
she'd sometimes suck my cock (but never to ejaculation) or when I bathed and 
was naked and would sometimes handle my cock, remembering.

Later, after I was well into my thirties, I began to recall and imagine on 
fairly frequent basis Danny's mouth engulfing my cock and it sliding into and 
out of his mouth as he bobbed up and down. I began to wonder what it would 
have been like to reciprocate and to realize that I had always wanted to but 
was afraid of what it might mean.  And what it might have might meant was 
unacceptable to me.

Back to the Present: Jonathan's visit and Andrew's response

I was somewhat startled by Jonathan's unannounced appearance at the door to 
my apartment, but not surprised that he'd called upon me.  I led him back to 
the great room looking out on to a neatly designed and tended small garden 
planted on the terrace of my high rise.  After I'd gotten him and myself a 
beer, we sat together in comfortable silence..

After a couple of minutes of companionable silence, Jonathan got right to the 
purpose of his coming.  "Uncle Andy, I just can't tell you how grateful I am 
to your intervention last week at gramps' house.  How much I appreciate it.  
And I just want to thank you for it," he said warmly and forthrightly.

"No need to thank me, Jon.  And don't give me too much credit.  Everyone 
there loves you and would have come to the same place with me...maybe a 
little later, but I don't even think that it would have been very much later 
at the same gathering."

"Okay.  Thanks," he said, flashing me a warm smile, "but, nevertheless, your 
words were the effective cause of the quick expression of love and 
reassurance from my family.  That's important me, and I won't play down your 
role too much."

"Well, in that case, Jon, you're welcome and I meant what I said.....Even if 
Judith and I are aren't together right now, you're still my family, and I 
love you and will stand by you with grampa Fred against anything or anyone 
that wants to attack you because of this."

I noticed his beer glass was empty and that mine had only a couple of 
swallows left and got up and went back to the kitchen to get two refills.

When I returned and we were both comfortably sipping on the new brews, 
Jonathan asked, "But one thing I don't quite understand, Uncle Andy, is why 
you?  Why were you the first to come to my defense.  I would have expected 
almost anyone else there to jump in before you."

I twirled my glass, wondering whether to respond with something flippant and 
humorous, but then, looking again into the sincere and warm affection 
emanating from his blue eyes, I decided that now was no time to be cute or 
clever.  I could only respond truthfully.

"Well, Jon, what you owned up to was something that I could identify with.  
I've frankly had the same urges and inclination that you confessed to.  I've 
never done anything about that, but I appreciated your courage in doing 
something I'd never had the gumption to express."

Jonathan's expression had been stunned at Andrew's own private confession.  
"You mean you....," he trailed off in midsentence.

"I mean I've had some of the same feelings...I've never done anything about 
it, though.  Never had any kind of relationship, deep or carnal, with another 
guy . . . except maybe a little bit with this friend back in highschool, but 
that was just casual fooling around that never got very far, at least on my 
part . . .," I reflected further.  But, smiling with I hoped was 
self-deprecating candor, I said, "I've got to admit, though, that I've always 
wondered what it was like to suck another man's penis. . . .  Don't guess 
I'll ever know, though, this late in life."

Jonathan took this private confession with a large amount of surprise, but
as I finished, I noticed that he'd started smiling a little, as if at a
private joke.

"Do you really want to know, Uncle Andy?" he asked, "because if you do, I can 
remedy that right now, if you'd like."  With that he stood up, and pushed his 
loafers off his otherwise bare feet by alternately stepping on the heel of 
the opposite shoe and pulling his foot out.  Next he pulled his tee shirt 
over his head,  revealing a slender, slightly six-pack waist and a more 
developed chest and shoulders than I would have suspected, given his lack of 
opportunity to exercise very much during his residency.

"Wait," I yelped.  I was truly frightened at this too sudden turn of events.  
In fact, at my self- protective yelp of protest, he immediately stopped and 
began to blush at what I'm sure he perceived as immediate rejection.

"No, no, Jon," I reassured him.  "I just need to see where we are in this."  
It was my turn to blush and I felt the heat rise to my face without at all 
diminishing the growing heated heaviness I felt in my loins.  "I mean I 
didn't intend to `proposition' you with what I said.  I don't want either of 
us to get pulled along into something neither of us would really want."

Jonathan relaxed slightly and his color slowly became normal again.  "No," he 
said.  "I know better than that.  But what you don't realize, Uncle Andy . . 
. can I just call you Andy?  I feel kinda foolish under the circumstances to 
be calling you `Uncle' . . . what you don't realize is that I've had a 
`crush' on you (he blushed again at the adolescent term) practically my whole 
life."

That brought me up short . . . especially since I'd also held what I'd 
thought of as shamefully pederastic fantasies about him for several years.

"Well," I said, casting about in my mind to try to find other objections, "in 
that case . . ."  My voice trailed off into somewhat troubled and hopeful 
silence.

Jonathan waited a moment, looking at me seriously to make sure he did not 
overstep his bounds.  Then he began to unbutton his blue jeans, top button 
first and then down his fly.  My eyes were inevitable drawn to the movement 
of his hands.  I couldn't help noticing a growing bulge beneath the softly 
faded denim; it held my attention.  The waistband of his grey knit briefs was 
revealed with a barely visible swirl of pubic hair emerging a short ways 
above.  When he'd completely unbuttoned, he pushed his jeans to his ankles 
and stepped out, picking them up and laying them neatly on the chair next to 
him which also held his tee shirt.  I watched the play of his muscles in legs 
and back and shoulders as he stooped and twisted to step out of his jeans and 
fold and place them in the chair.  Inevitably as had really always been the 
case when exposed to naked and near naked men, my eyes were drawn to his 
crotch.  The pouch of his briefs were filled to capacity and stretched with 
the outlined shape of his rather large cock and testicles.  Even as I looked 
his cock began to grow and straighten in the tightly stretched briefs.  I 
looked at his face and saw him observing me as I observed his genitalia.  Not 
taking his eyes from mine, he hooked his thumbs under the elastic waistband 
of his briefs and started to push them down.  My eyes left his to watch this 
much more alluring sigh, and my breathing became faster and shallower as I 
watched and felt my own cock begin to swell in anticipation.  First, his dark 
blond pubes were revealed and then the base of his cock, swollen thick but 
not hard.  As he pushed his briefs down, more and more of his cock came into 
view.  Long and straight and slightly venous.  Surprisingly tanned but not at 
all discolored as some overly-handled cocks are.  The circumcised head of his 
cock came into view, and then as the elastic waistband was drawn below the 
engorged glans his cock sprang upright and slightly slapped his belly before 
falling back down to a jutting semierect position.  He quickly dropped his 
briefs the rest of the way to the floor, stepping out of them and kicking 
them to the chair.  I looked at him in his naked glory, like some youthful 
Greek god.  I wasn't sure what to do after having waited for this for 
twenty-five years, but Jonathan took charge.

"Here," he said, sitting on the couch next to me and slightly spreading his 
thighs.  "Get between my knees on the floor."

I complied, still uncertain.  This position put my face within a foot of his 
cock, and his knees gave a natural resting place for my arms which I 
immediately took advantage of.  I looked Jonathan questioningly.  "This ends 
my lesson," Jonathan said.  "From here, it's your show. Do whatever you want."

First, I was determined to get my eyeful of what his genitalia looked like.  
As I have mentioned his pubes was not heavy and thick but a dark blond, 
generally triangular nest of sparse, soft curls.  His testicles hung large in 
a fairly distended, almost hairless sac with only a very few wrinkles in it 
in its distended state.  Jonathan's cock was, I thought, a thing of beauty.  
I would judge maybe slightly more than seven inches long of moderate but 
proportionate thickness.  It was not broad at the base and narrow at the top, 
making it vaguely pointed as so many penises were, but was fairly straight 
and of the same thickness from base to glans penis with fairly evident major 
veins . . . the large one on the underside that ran its length and the major 
"j" shaped one on the top side.  The other veins were evident but not 
prominent.  The head of his cock reminded me of a German WWII helmet as so 
did so the cock head of so many circumcised men.  It was a tannish red color, 
not an angry purple as I had seen in pictures.  Strangely his cock seemed to 
be tanned, but was not of a noticeable different color from his skin in other 
places.  The lips of his urethra were a slightly brighter pink than the rest 
of his glans and were moist with a gathering drop of fluid.

With trembling fingers I reached for his now fully erect penis and lightly 
brushed the back of my fingers along the length of his shaft.  His cock 
jumped at my touch, and I looked to his face, questioning, only to find him 
looking at me with a mixture of attentive curiosity as to what I would do, a 
sincere smile of encouragement and something tender that almost look like it 
may be love.

One of my recurring memories of those time with Danny had been his scent, so 
I bent my head a little further toward his cock and hairless testicles and 
inhaled.  The same musky scent of soap, sweat, semen and urine trapped in his 
pubes.  It worked like an aphrodisiac upon me.  I felt my own cock swelling 
even more . . . almost to the point of full erection.  I pulled at the crotch 
of my sweats to make room, and Danny, noticing, said, "One other thing, 
first, though, Uncle Andy . . . please take off your sweats."

I looked up at him as he gazed steadily into my eyes.  After a moment, I 
stood and pushed my sweats to my ankles and stepped out of them.  Danny's 
eyes took in my nakedness and cock without embarrassment.  I knelt between 
his legs again and brought my hand up to softly hold his cock.  It pulsed 
slightly at my first touch.  I pulled the skin down softly to fully expose 
his cock head and the area beneath the bottom edge.  The drop of fluid was 
now clearly noticeable and full on his urethra.  I leaned forward and softly 
lick it away, engaging my tongue in a swirling motion `round and `round his 
glans.  He inhaled with a sharp "ssssst" followed by silence as I took the 
glans fully into my mouth and closed my lips on it.  My mouth was now 
secreting saliva at a far above normal rate.  I began to slide my mouth down 
the length of his cock, spittle spilling out of lips as it was secreted more 
rapidly than I could swallow. I could taste his pre-semen which was now 
steadily oozing from this cock: it had a sexy, salty-sweet, musky taste.  
When his cock hit the back of my throat, I started pulling back up his shaft, 
to take another swirl with my tongue around the head of his cock and then 
back down.  I did this a few times until I became frustrated at not being 
able to get the last couple of inches of cock down my throat.  I recalled 
reading about "deep throating" and that it was accomplished by engaging in a 
swallowing motion which had the effect of opening the throat and then closing 
it.  The trick apparently was to get the cock head past the throat as it 
initially opened and then on down.  I tried it and it worked.  I gagged a 
little as his cock first entered my open throat, but I was determined to 
adjust to it and so I did.  I felt my nose press into his softly curling 
pubes as the whose of cock disappeared between my lips.  My tongue worked 
furiously against the large vein traversing the underside of his cock.  I 
continued actively my tongue and lips without withdrawing a centimeter.

Jonathan began to groan . . . "unghh.  Ahhhhh.  Gee Uncle Andy.  No one's 
ever taken the whole thing before.  Ahhhhhh.  Yeaaahhhh.  Ohhh, unghhh. That 
feels so good.  How'd you know to use your tongue so well if you've never 
sucked a cock before?"  He put both his hands on the side and back of my 
head, pulling me close to him, and began to rock slightly back and forth, 
withdrawing a little and then thrusting back with his cock, ramming it deeply 
into my throat.  I felt I could feel his cock grow harder and larger.

"I'm about to cum, Uncle Andy.  Do you want it in your mouth or do you want 
off?"  I began to suck harder and tried to nod my head in agreement as best I 
could under the circumstances. . . . And with that, I felt his cock spasm and 
jet after jet of hot viscous fluid pumped into my mouth.  It had the same 
salty-sweet, musky flavor of his pre-cum and I swallowed greedily, loving 
every drop.....Gee, what I'd been missing all these years.  Finally, his 
ejaculation subsided to a few droplets oozing from his urethra.  I continued 
to suck and lick until I had it all and then cleaned his cock thoroughly with 
my mouth and tongue.

I eased back and his cock disengaged my mouth with soft, wet "plop" of 
released suction..  I leaned back on my heels and felt something wet and 
sticky beneath my knees and looked down.  I'd cum in my passion, without even 
having been aware.  I reached for my sweats and mopped up the mess on the 
carpet before it penetrate, and then wiped the moisture from my genitals and 
from Jonathan's.

I smiled up at him.  "Did I do alright?"

"Alright??!!" he laughed.  "Much, much better than alright.  It was the best 
anyone has ever sucked my cock and you've only just begun!"

He slipped out of the chair onto the floor next to me.  Slipping his arm 
about my shoulders he leaned into me and kissed me softly.  I was, at first, 
startled because I had not expected it, but then I relaxed and opened my lips 
to receive his tongue.  As his kiss continued and our tongues at first 
battled then softly caressed each other, I felt my cock start to harden and 
lengthen again and my breath come in faster, shallower pants.  Jonathan's 
hand moved to my cock and caressed it into full erection.  Then he pulled 
away and looked me in the eyes before stretching out on his belly and 
lowering his mouth to my cock.  It was such a thoroughly good and complete 
cock-suck that tears came to my eyes and spilled over down my cheeks.  
Sucking firmly with his tongue and lips active along my shaft, his nose 
pressed against my pelvis.  Within five minutes I was violently erupting in a 
jetting stream of cum as he hungrily swallowed.

Afterwards, we lay on the floor in each other's arms dozing and resting.  
After a few minutes, Jonathan said, "I've wanted to do that with you since I 
was twelve.  I've always loved you, and I'm so grateful that I've finally got 
the chance to say it without embarrassing you or running you away."  I 
pressed my lips to his forehead and kissed it furiously, pulling him tightly 
against me, in response.

He slipped his head down to my chest, his eyes aimed toward my now flaccid 
cock.  He put his hand on it and squeezed softly.

"Now, all I've got to do is lose the name `Uncle Andy.'  I've really always 
to call you `Drew'.  How's that?  A new name for our new relationship."