Date: Fri, 23 Mar 2001 07:09:29 EST
From: MikeBranson@aol.com
Subject: Happiest Place On Earth - Part 5

DISCLAIMER:  The story you are about to read is, uh,
not real.  The names haven't been changed to protect
the innocent because, uh, well...they're not real.  If
sex between men offends you, change partners.  If, by
reading the following story, you are violating some
law(s) in your community, get the hell out.  And
remember, wear sunscreen.

HAPPIEST PLACE ON EARTH
Mike Branson c 2001

You know how some people warn you to be careful what
you wish for because you just might get it?  (Who the
fuck came up with THAT?!  Is that supposed to be
deep?)  Take it from one who knows: I traded every
goddamned wish I had for what was behind door number
three...and what did I get?  A lifetime supply of
Turtle Wax?  Fuck that shit!  I got to go down on my
uncle in a room at the Disneyland Hotel not ten
minutes after eating out his incredible manhole and
then shooting my load all over his beautiful body.
And, truth be told, being careful had, like, NOTHING
to do with it.  (Some people really annoy the shit out
of me.)

So, where the hell was I?  Oh yeah...everything went
black.  Major cliffhanger, huh?  (Kiss my ass.  I'm
telling it the way I remember it.)  It's not like I
MEANT to pass out or anything.  One minute I'm giving
head like I actually know what I'm doing, and the next
thing...WHAM!  Curtain down.  Lights out.  End of Act
One.

Uncle Brad must have thought he'd killed me because
when I came to he looked like a fuckin' deer caught in
the headlights.

"What happened?" I asked.  My throat was sore and I
could still taste Brad's cum in my mouth.

`Goddamnit, Ben!  You scared the shit outta me!"  He
looked it, too.  "Are you alright?"  And then, those
eyes again.  The softest shade of brown you can
imagine.  Peering intensely at me.  Searching
for...what?  A sign?  Reassurance of some sort?  I was
okay now.  Lying here with Brad, I knew I was better
than okay.  If only I had taken it slower, remembered
to come up for air.  (Note to self: Lack of oxygen
will FUCK YOU UP!)  What an idiot I'd been.

"Benji?"  Soother now, panic abated.  He ran his
fingers through my hair, gently.  He leaned down and
kissed my forehead.

"I'm sorry, Brad."  I didn't know what else to say.  I
felt so stupid, so embarrassed, so fuckin' lame.

His eyes met mine again.  The intensity of his gaze
made me shiver.  How could things have taken such a
turn?  And so fast, too?  I couldn't imagine what
Uncle Brad was thinking.  I was afraid to ask, more
afraid to know.  Did he hate me now?  Was he sorry for
bringing me here?  Consumed by regret?  ("Uh...I'd
like to buy a vowel, Pat, because I am FUCKING
CLUELESS!!!")

Slowly, and without a word, Uncle Brad lowered his
mouth to mine.  I watched him close his eyes as he
leaned forward, brushing my lips.  He tilted his head
to one side and began circling his tongue around mine.
I still had his flavor in my mouth, drops of cum
coating my teeth.  Our tongues wrestled and he began
to suck on mine teasingly.  I savored his saliva.  I
wanted to bathe in it, to drown in it.  Uncle Brad
moaned, almost inaudibly, and situated himself above
me.  I wrapped my legs around his and drew him closer.
I could feel the weight of his cock against mine as he
lowered his frame upon me.  I reached my arms around
his broad shoulders and ran my hands up and down the
length of his back.  I shifted slightly and, in doing
so, was able to grab Brad's ass.  I massaged his
cheeks, spread them, and arched my lower body upward.
My cock throbbed uncontrollably.

Uncle Brad brought his lips to my left ear.  "You are
so incredibly beautiful," he whispered.  "Do you have
any idea?"

I felt the heat rise to my face.  Was he serious?!
(Hello, Brad?  Have you looked in a mirror lately?
You are fuckin' PERFECTION, dude.)  I didn't know how
to respond.  I wanted more than anything to tell him
how much I loved him, how much I had always loved him.
Loved, craved, desired, worshiped.  My cock continued
to pulsate.

"Brad?"  I waited for him to face me again.  I knew
what I had to ask.

"Brat?" he replied.

"Fuck me."  I felt the enormity of his cock against my
body.  I wanted it inside me.  Deep inside of me.
"Please fuck me."

He was silent, thoughtful, contemplative.

"Alright, Benji.  On one condition."  His expression
gave nothing away.  Had I heard him right?  Had he
actually agreed?!  My dick felt like it was on the
brink of having an epileptic seizure.

"Anything," I replied.  And I meant it, too.

"Let me make love to you first."

And with those words, I came.  I FUCKING BLEW MY LOAD!
As soon as I realized what was happening, I bucked up
and clung to Brad with all my might.  I held onto him
fiercely as spasm upon spasm of my boyjuice flooded
between our conjoined bodies.  Brad thrust his hips
into mine and brought his lips back to my mouth.  This
time he kissed me forcefully, savagely.  It was so
fuckin' intense that I accidentally bit down on his
lower lip and drew blood.  And then, the most amazing
thing happened.  Before I let loose with my final
spew, I felt Brad's cock begin jetting its own liquid
as he pushed the entire weight of his body down upon
me.  In a matter of seconds it ended, and Brad rolled
the two of us over so that I was now lying on top of
him.  His breathing labored, I raised up to get off of
him.  He grabbed me, embraced me, and held me tighter
than I'd ever been held in my life.  It felt so right.

"Let's stay like this for a minute," he whispered.
"Just hold me."

(Cue the Sade music and light the fuckin' candles-it
doesn't get any more romantic than THAT!)

After about an hour of holding each other, I got a
killer urge to pee.  Reluctantly, I lifted myself off
of Uncle Brad and carefully rolled over to his side.
Our bodies were sweaty and sticky with dried cum.  The
sheets were soaked and stained and the lingering scent
of sex hung in the air.  At some point during our
cuddling, Uncle Brad had dozed off.  I took this
opportunity to take in the sight of him sprawled out
in all his glory.  His penis, flaccid against his leg,
was breathtaking.  Even limp, that massive
motherfucker looked intimidating.  I got off the bed
and walked around to Brad's side.  I stood over my
uncle and marveled at how fuckin' beautiful he was.  I
wanted to jack off just then, spray my spunk all over
that hairy chest and those masculine pecs.  Bend down
and lap it up, nibble his nips and brush my dick over
that hirsute torso.

Instead, I made my way to the bathroom where I took a
marathon piss and then climbed into the shower.  As I
lathered myself up, I thought about everything that
had happened today.  At what point, I wondered, would
I wake up and discover that it had all been a cruel
dream, a hoax, a fuckin' figment of my twisted little
imagination?  No, I hypothesized, if I HAD written the
script, wouldn't Brad have sucked ME off?  Or plowed
my virgin hole?  My ass puckered at the thought.  I
took a soapy finger and ran it down the length of my
crack, bringing it to rest at the forbidden entrance.
Had Brad meant what he'd said?  Would I know the
feeling of that monstrous tool impaling my boybutt?  I
pushed my finger inside of me.  It burned.  Would I
get to sit on that slab of meat, have it stretch my
hole to its limit?  And beyond?  I pushed another
soapy finger into my anus.  Would Uncle Brad fuck me
mercilessly as I cried out in pain, begging him to
stop, screaming at the discomfort?  (God, I hoped so!)

I could have jerked off in the shower and shot my
FOURTH fuckin' load of the day, no problem, but I
didn't want to waste a wad flying solo.  I turned my
back to the showerhead and spread my asscheeks wide,
letting the flow of warm water rinse away the soapy
residue.  I fondled my hairless nuts and wondered how
it would feel to have Uncle Brad gnawing at them.
Suddenly, and FROM OUT OF FUCKIN' NOWHERE, I pictured
my mother sitting in front of a slot machine with a
cigarette in one hand and a Bloody Mary in the other.
POOF!  BONER-BE-GONE!

I got out of the shower and dried off with an
oversized towel.  I felt fresh, clean, alive.  I
wondered if Uncle Brad was still asleep or, as fuckin'
fate would have it, even there.  Maybe he'd snuck out
and ditched my ass in a panic.  Left me with bus fare
and a Dear John letter.  Went back to that cunt,
what's-her-name?  (Jesus Christ, Ben, lighten up!
Take a Xanax and chill the shit out!)

I came out of the bathroom with the towel still
wrapped around me to find Uncle Brad sitting on the
edge of the bed lacing up his shoes.  He had dressed,
and my immediate reaction was fear.  (That, and `How
RAUNCHY are you, dude?!'  Of course, the idea of my
cum still lining that man's belly WAS kinda hot!)

Brad looked over at me.  Smiled.  Motioned for me to
come over to him.  Suddenly I was BENJI THE SELF-
CONSCIOUS and felt naked.  Which I kind of was.  But I
managed to walk directly in front of Brad and let the
towel fall to the floor.  Hadn't he had told me I was
beautiful?  Was I still?

Brad reached out and drew me to him, his arms around
my waist.  I can't explain it, but my dick didn't
instantly spring to attention like I imagined it
would.  Brad blew softly into my belly button and
stuck out his tongue to wet it.  With his hands now on
my bare ass, he traced his tongue up the length of my
flat stomach, over my chest, up my neck and stopped at
my chin.  He squeezed my butt playfully and I brought
my face down toward his.  This time I initiated the
kiss, bringing my lips gently to his, cautious of the
cut I had made.  Brad stuck his tongue out for me and
I brought my lips around it, wet it, sucked it.  Now
my dick started to stir and Uncle Brad reached out to
stroke it.  Oh shit, I thought.  I'm gonna cum in his
hand and then what?

Uncle Brad stood up, placed his arms on my shoulders
and turned me around toward the bed.  He placed his
right hand on my chest and gently pushed me over where
I flopped down on my back like a Raggedy Andy doll.  I
had a feeling where this was going and my body went
limp.  Dear God, I prayed...

I closed my eyes and began counting to myself.  One.
Two.  Three.  By four, I felt his breath near my
boyhood.  By five, his lips flickered over the tip of
the head.  Circling around it, licking my precum-
leaking piss slit.  At six--OH FUCK ME--his tongue
began gliding gingerly up and down my shaft.  Seven.
Eight.  Eyes still closed.  What's going on?  Where'd
he go?!  DON'T STOP NOW!!!  Nine--HOLY SHIT ALMIGHTY--
nine was the FUCKIN' POWERBALL, BABY!!!  In one clean
swoop, Uncle Brad went down on my dick like a fuckin'
whore on payday!!!  OHMYGOD!!!!!  And just like the
opening credits of LOVE, AMERICAN STYLE, I swear on my
life I saw fuckin' fireworks shoot across the sky.
And I'm not the least bit ashamed to admit that I
cried out--I SURE AS SHIT DID--and you'd have thought
I'd found the cure to cancer!  "OOOOOHHHHH, UNCLE
BRAD!!!!!"  My body convulsed.  Where had he learned
to do that?!  There wasn't a snowball's chance in hell
that Brad was gonna pass out sucking MY dick (c'mon, I
WAS only fourteen--I ain't gonna lie and say I tripped
over the damn thing!), but that man somehow managed to
bury his nose into the pubes I HADN'T shaved!  And it
felt FUCKIN' INCREDIBLE!!!  WARM, WET, TIGHT, UP,
DOWN, WAY DOWN, SHIT, FUCK, OH SHIT, OH FUCK, OH
BRAD!!!!!

Uncle Walt must've been turning over in his grave-(or
thawing out, if the rumors are true)-as I thrust and
bucked and thrashed around on that bed like Linda
Blair in THE EXORCIST.  I could feel Uncle Brad
playing with my balls, massaging them, tugging at
them.  All the while, he continued to bathe my cock
with his spit, sucking on it like a popsicle in July.

The next two things happened simultaneously: In the
fuckin' throes of ecstasy I managed to moan, "I LOVE
YOU, UNCLE BRAD"--just as I let loose with a stream of
cum that hit the back of Brad's throat and fuckin'
tickled his tonsils!  Uncle Brad siphoned my dick like
a pro and swallowed my jizz without missing a beat.
Even after I had drained myself completely, Uncle Brad
let my cock rest in the warmth of his mouth.  The tip
of my cock became, like, MAJORLY sensitive (how the
fuck did I know?), but I remained inside him as I
tried to catch my breath.  My heartbeat was off the
fuckin' chart, dude--but if I died, well...SO THE FUCK
WHAT?!

Time stood still as I recovered.  Uncle Brad slowly
released me and, for the first time, lapped at my sac.
It was the perfect finish to a job well done.  I lay
on the bed, blissfully wrecked.

"Benji?"

A second or two passed before I could answer, "Hmmm?"

"I love you, too."

Uncle Brad got up and went into the bathroom.  I
remained motionless on the bed, basking in the fuckin'
afterglow of my first blow job.

"Hey, Brat?"  Brad called out.

He loves me, I thought.  After everything that's
happened, he LOVES me.  "Yeah?" I said.

"Are you hungry?"

I was gonna say something hokey about how Uncle Brad
had TOTALLY satisfied my appetite, but I'll be damned
if I WASN'T famished.  "Food would be good," I yelled
out.  "I'm starvin' like Marvin."

I could hear Brad peeing with the door open.  Oh,
that's HOT, I thought.  That is WAY HOT!  I started to
put my clothes back on.  My hair was still damp and I
could have used a hair-dryer.  One of my socks was MIA
and I finally found it under Brad's pillow.  It
smelled of cum.  That little fucker, I thought.  Wipes
himself off with one of MY socks!

Brad came out of the bathroom looking, well, gorgeous.
"What do you say we head back over to the park and
grab something to eat?"

"Are we still gonna `cruise the babes'?" I asked,
pulling my now-stiff sock over my foot.

"Fuck you, wiseass" Brad shot back.

I looked over at him as he realized what he'd said.

`When?" I asked.  I was dead serious.

Without as much as a pause, Uncle Brad smiled warmly.
"Tonight," he promised.

We made our way back to Disneyland via the Monorail.
There was an older, foreign-looking woman sitting with
us that I recognized from our earlier ride.  I
wondered if someone in her party had abandoned her ass
sitting in this thing all morning.  She looked content
enough, though, and when she glanced at me she smiled
a matronly smile.  She knows, I thought.  She knows
everything.  I shuddered and shook the idea away.
When Uncle Brad and I got off in Tomorrowland, the old
woman remained where she was.  I wanted to run back
and tell her that it was consensual, that I'd asked
for it.  Wanted it.  Instigated it.  But it was too
late.

End of fifth installment.  Comments welcome at
mikebranson@aol.com.  As always, I thoroughly enjoy hearing
from you and I look forward to whatever feedback you
offer.