Date: Thu, 01 Apr 2004 12:25:32 +0000
From: Chuck Fauker <militarystudusa@hotmail.com>
Subject: Meet my Uncle Harry

My Uncle Harry came to live with my family when I was 14.  He had just
gotten out of a 4-year stint in prison over a brawl he got in at a bar some
years back.  Everyone in my family is a bit on the rough side, and Uncle
Harry and my father have just been a few of my relatives to have run with
the Hell's Angels.

He was about 40 years old with a shaved head and white handlebar mustache.
He had a medium build, but great musculature, covered in tattoos from his
neck down.  His chest was hairy, totally white, until you got down to his
treasure trail, where the hair darkened to black around his shaft.  He'd
been married before he went to prison, but she divorced him why he was in,
so my dad took him in till he could get back on his feet.

I had the finished basement for a bedroom, something both my sister and
brother were jealous of.  But being the biggest room in the house, I was to
share it with Uncle Harry, something I initially hated, dreading the lack of
privacy, but had no problem with once he and I got to know one another.
Hell, once he walked in the door the first time, wearing tight, ripped
jeans, a stained wife-beater shirt, harness boots, and sunglasses, carrying
his saddle bags over his shoulder and his duffle in his other hand, I
sprouted wood then and there.  I was speechless as Dad told him that I'd be
his new cell mate.  He just grinned around his cigar and tossed his
saddlebags to me, tell me to lead the way.

One of the reasons I like my bedroom in the basement was the absolute
privacy.  I had a key to the only door, and no one, especially my brother,
could bother me.  I was the classic Latchkey Kid, both my siblings having
after school jobs and my parents both worked until 7 at night.  My typical
afternoon was spent jerking off in my room looking at some gay porn I'd
gotten my hands on a year or so earlier.  I was sure that was all to change
now that I was sharing a room with a divorced ex-con of an Uncle.  I was
petrified to think of what would happen if he discovered I fantasized about
sucking on my dad's biker buddies' dicks.  I was to be pleasantly surprised.

That very first morning, I woke up to him dumping my out of my bed onto the
floor, my mattress on top of me.  "Wake the fuck up, lazy ass!" He shouted
at me.  "You wanna be a scrawny little fuck all your life!"  Within a few
minutes, I was doing my very first set of push-ups, followed by sit-ups.  My
Uncle and I were both in our underwear and sweating as he instructed and
verbally abused me.  He told me how he wouldn't stand by and let his nephew
be a skin and bones little nerd to be picked on and beat up by anyone with a
mind to.  He told me how he would break me and build me up like what was
done to him in the Marine Corps.  He told me I was a lucky sonofabitch to
have him there with me.  We started off with 100 push-ups and 100 situ-ups.
When I finished, he tousled my shaggy hair and went up stairs to take a
shower.  I lay on the floor until he left, hiding my rock hard dick beneath
my body.  I was too beat up to beat off, but I had never wanted to so much
in my life.

Everyday that week followed the same routine.  Get up. Piss.  Workout.  On
the second day, he gave me a high and tight buzzcut before I left for
school.  When I got home on the third day, he had cut up most of my clothes
for grease rags to work on his bike.  He replaced them with a few of his old
Harley shirts and said I didn't need all that girly and kiddy shit he'd
found, that jeans and t-shirts would be all I would need.  I was lovin every
minute of it.

It was driving me wild to see this hot man in my room, walking around in his
dirty, worn-thin briefs, his basket swinging as he stepped.  When we worked
out in the morning or when I helped him on his bike in the afternoon, the
smell of his sweat drove me fucking nuts.  He'd only shower every other day
and never wore cologne of aftershave.  He said if he wanted to smell like a
bitch he'd wear a dress.

It was only about a week after he moved in when I got home from school to
find his bike gone from the driveway.  At last!  I could jerk off in my own
room!  I'd been using the bathroom, not easy when you share one bathroom
with three other people.  I was already rock hard and constructing my
favorite fantasy about my Dad's best friend fucking me over his bike as I
walked down the stairs.  I froze as I rounded the corner of the landing.

Uncle Harry was sitting on my bed.  On the floor in front of him were
several open magazines, the magazines that had been hidden well under the
bed.  My gay porno mags.  He had another one in his hand.  His other hand
was wrapped around his 9-inch cock and stroking slow.  His jeans were pushed
down to the top of his boots and his shirt was pulled up behind his neck.
He was looking right at me and grinning form ear to ear.

"These are some pretty hot mags, kid.  But I can get some new ones for ya if
yur tired of these yet.  I gotta few in my bag."  I just stood there
wordless as he continued to stroke his prick.  He laughed at me and said,
"Well, are ya gonna fuckin stand there all day with yur mouth open or ya
gonna get yur ass over here next to yur uncle?"

I stumbled over to the bed and sat down a few feet away from him, my hands
in my lap, trying not to stare at his crotch.  He laughed again and grabbed
me by the waistband of my jeans.  "Get yur ass over here, shithead." he said
laughing as he pulled me right next to him.  He wrapped his arm around my
shoulders and handed the magazine he had to me.  He turned the page a few
times to a spread of a guy in a sling getting fucked with an amazing dildo.
"Now that's friggin hot as FUCK!" he said, bringing his hand from the
magazine back to his quivering dick.  He started stroking it slowly.  "I
love shit like that.  You fucked anyone in the ass yet, boy?"

I just shook my head.

"You done any cocksuckin yet?"

I shook my head again.

"Hell, you even fuckin jerked off yet?!"

I managed a weak "...sometimes..."

"Fuck kid, it ain't nothing to be embarrassed or scared about!  Every guy
does it.  And fuckin loves it.  There's nothing like pumping out a big load
by yourself.  It's healthy.  Shit!  I taught your father how to jerk his
prick when he was years younger than you."  I just stared, open-mouthed and
in shock of everything.

He grabbed the magazine and barked out an order in a voice I'd gotten used
to obeying in the mornings.  "Stand up and drop your pants."  I hesitated.
"Now goddamn it!  Lets see if you DO know how to jerk off."  I did as he
told me.  I was standing before my uncle with my jeans around my ankles, my
painfully small dick standing almost straight in the air against my belly.
"Well go on and stroke that motherfucker."  I did, awkwardly.

"Fuck no!  Let me show ya how."  He stood beside me and grabbed the base of
his cock with his thumb and forefinger so tight that the whole thing started
to turn purple and swell up.  I could see every vein throb.  He then spit a
luggie into his other palm and waited until I copied him.  My luggie wasn't
as good as his so he told me to hold out my palm while he spit in it for me.
  Then he started to stoke his cock.  He told me how to stroke it not just
beat on it.  How to play with the head and piss slit.  He showed me how good
it felt to pull on your balls.  How to two fist a cock (though mine wasn't
really big enough yet).

He was moaning and sweating now, every muscle in his body growing tense.
"Get on your knees in front of me."  I did and he grabbed the back of my
head and pushed my in between his thighs.  "Lick on those balls for me.
Gently.  That's it. Just like that."  I slowly ran my tongue over the
stubble on his balls and inhaled the smell and taste of his musk, his sweat
and piss.  Then his balls pulled tight, and he started grunting.  "Fuck! Oh
shit! Here it comes! Fuck yeah!  Take this fucking loan kid, fucking swallow
it!"  He grabbed me head and stuck his cockhead just past my lips just as
his juice exploded into my mouth, hitting the back of my throat with the
force of a water hose.  I didn't spill a drop.  When he finished cumming, he
had to pull me away from his now super-sensitive cock as I started sucking
on it, trying to get out every last drop.  I hadn't even noticed that I had
shot my load, without touching my dick, all over the carpet and the
magazines.

He laughed and collapsed onto my bed.  He told me to get on the bed with
him.  Smiling, he hugged me close and pressed his lips against mine.  His
kiss was long and deep, his tongue reaching out to mine, probing my mouth.
His teeth caught and pulled on my lower lip.  He moaned again and smiled as
he kissed me.  Finally he pulled apart and I nestled my head against his
shoulder.