Date: Sun, 1 May 2016 22:08:30 +0100 (BST)
From: z.blake@tutanota.com
Subject: Murphy in the Middle (Revised)

MURPHY IN THE MIDDLE
By Zachyboy
M/b, oral, anal

The following story is a work of fiction. In real life, nephews rarely like
their uncles to stick their big fat dongs up their little back doors, so
I'm going to whole-heartedly advise against it over here in the real
world. The authorities don't like it and you make a mess on the sheets.

This fictional nephew, however, seems fairly-well adept at taking his
uncle's big sausage up his make-believe flytrap, so who am I to stand in
their way? Let's sally forth and see what happens. If stories like this are
illegal where you live, or break some sort of city, state or national
ordinance that came over on the Mayflower, boy are you up shit creek. See
you later, alligator.

Anybody who's left after that blistering disclaimer, please support the
Nifty Archive Alliance.

http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html

Home is where the heart is.

On with the show.

# # # # # # # # # # # # # # #

My dear sister and that moron she married (God, that man's a piece of work,
don't even get me started) gave unto the world four spectacular children
for me to drool, squeal and lust over.

There's Maddox, the oldest. He's 15 now, and shy and soft-spoken. He'd
rather have nothing to do with his sibs out in public, even though the
other two boys adore him and idolize him.

He keeps to himself socially, which is complicated, because privately, all
three boys share a single bedroom, and with three brothers who each have
peckers, well, you know what that means. Any port in a storm.

Whoof, I'd like to be a fly on the wall in that laundry hamper when it
comes time to wash all the underwear and the cum-crusty bed sheets come
Tuesdays.

The second one's Mia, and like any other 13-year-old girl, Mia thinks she's
35, and she's a royal pain in the ass. She lives for three things and three
things only; cheerleading, shopping and torturing her brothers. Enough said
about Mia. This is a boy story. We might throw Mia in the Bi category and
fuck her in a sequel someday, but not today. I'm busy with her brother.

My youngest nephew is Marshall. He's only 9, and cute as a snuggle
bug. Many's the time I've dreamed of popping his little anal cherry, flying
him in the air like Superman with my nose face-down in his crack when he's
not paying attention, huffing like a madman, dreaming of banging his little
buttercup, along with his older brother Maddox's bubbly, pliable and more
pheromone-laced model.

Let's face it, any of my three nephews are an uncle's cockdream come
true. In fact, I had to come up with my own dirty word for what I want to
do to all three. I don't just want to masturbate them. I don't just want to
fellate them. I don't just want to fornicate them. I want to unkulate them.

I want to unkulate my nephews.

And I know that's not how you spell uncle, but "uncleate" looked
weird. Like cleats on your shoes. It looks like "un-cleat" when you type
it, and sorry, that ain't gonna work. So let's unkulate the little fuckers
instead, particularly Murphy.

Murphy's the middle boy. Murphy in the middle. Murphy's 11, going on
12. Oh, what a glorious age. Old enough for boners, young enough for
sharing.

"Bring on Murphy!" my cock hollers out.

"Let's unkulate the boys!" my wiener insists, "But let's unkulate Murphy
first! Murphy in the middle!"

Before this story is over, I'm gonna make that stocky boy squeal.

# # # # # # # # # # # # # # #

Murphy is a boy of substantial design. You can't pick him up because he's
built like a fireplug.

He's not fat, God no. Not an ounce of fat on his whole stocky body.

Not delicate either. Not a chance. Not a prayer.

Murphy is solid as a rock and 100% athletic-boy. He plays soccer. He's got
muscles; a mass of them for 12. His thighs are like ham hocks. He could
outrun a Clydesdale.

He's just massively solid. If he wanted to kick you out of the bed with one
of those legs, he'd kick you clear across the room. Squeezing one of those
legs is like squeezing a bar of iron sheathed in velvet. His skin is soft
like a boy of course, so there's a layer of softness, but underneath, it's
just solid like steel. I can lift his little brother. I can't lift up
Murph.

If I squeeze Marshall's leg, he's got little boy stick legs. They're not
flabby, but they're soft and squishy and they yield and he giggles. But
Murphy, wow. There's no give there. He's solid.

And he's like that from the top of his head to the bottom of his feet. His
hind end is solid as a rock. It's not flabby, it's just massively-muscled,
and not in a gross way. It's just a sturdy, solid ass. If you stuck your
cock up Murphy's asshole and he decided he wanted to snap it off, he'd just
squeeze his ass cheeks together and snap it off. That'd be the end of your
cock.

Be careful what you wish for, fucking Murphy. He's built to take
it. There's room in the garage.

He could take your full ball load with room left over to store your patio
furniture for the winter.

Which is exactly what I'm going to do in this story.

So, three cheers for Murphy.

# # # # # # # # # # # # # # #

He's also the black sheep of the three boys and the one with the mean
streak. When Murph was younger, he'd walk right up Marshall, clock him in
the head, then stand right there lying to your face, telling you he didn't
do it.

"What do you mean you didn't do it?" I'd holler at him. "Of course you did
it. I stood right here and watched you do it."

He'd just shrug and walk away. My sister and my moron brother-in-law rarely
did a thing. These were undisciplined boys. Either coddled or neglected. It
drove me crazy, but it's not an uncle's place.

Murph's disposition had seasoned some over the years. His meanness simmered
down a touch. He's smart as an all-fire whip. He gets good grades at
school, but he's always getting in trouble. He steals a little. He's got a
vandalism streak. And of course, that's all to tell you, out of the three
of my nephews, he's by far the most immediately fuckable. He's already the
bad boy.

He's also a little more tactile with me than he used to be. He used to
growl and push me away, but little by little he warmed to my touches. Now
he lets me hug up to him and scratch his neck and rub his shoulders a
little bit more.

And, of course, this being a sex story, it goes without saying, there comes
an age when a boy understands an uncle's tactile affection is for more than
just show. The sexual element becomes apparent as soon as a boy gets his
first boner and jacks his first shivers. And with an older brother and a
younger brother in his bedroom, Murph is no stranger to where rubs and
tickles and touches are heading.

I'm not sure what exact anatomical hijinks those boys get up to after the
lights go out, but I'm sure it involves 15-year-old Maddox's cock,
9-year-old Marshall's cock, and Murphy in the middle.

# # # # # # # # # # # # # # #

"You sure like touchin' me friendly, Uncle Rusty," Murphy said to me out of
the blue after family lunch at the Wagon Wheel one Sunday. He'd eaten a
whole prime rib by himself and he was sauntering through the parking lot,
cock of the roost, far behind the rest of the family, just me and him
chatting.

"I touch all you boys," I shrugged. "It don't mean a thing." A flat-out
fabrication.

"Naw," Murphy smiled. "You like touchin' me `cause it makes your big ol'
hog hard," he grinned, pointing down at the lump in my pants, which as
usual, around Murph was at half-mast and rising.

"Well," I shrugged, knowing I was busted. "Why don't you come sleep over at
my house this weekend and we can see how hard you can get it."

He looked up surprised and he grinned at me a little.

"Yeah?" he asked, and then with a whisper, "You mean do sex stuff?"

"Yeah," I nodded with the same soft conspiracy. "Let's see what you're up
for."

And that was the innocent start of how I unkulated Murphy.

# # # # # # # # # # # # # # #

Unkulation.

Unkulation has been a topic of great fascination for me since I invented
the word. It's the kind of cock knocking that only an uncle can give. A
trusted fellow family member. The keeper of the family cock keys.

Oh, sure. A boy's gonna mess around with other boys his age. Cousins, or
brothers, or pals in the tool shed. I'm sure, Maddox, Murphy and Marshall
fuck themselves silly after lights-out at night. When my sister goes to bed
with my brother-in-law moron, I'm sure those three boys are fucking in that
bedroom like monkeys in a jungle.

But there's a whole world of difference between a brotherly butt fuck and
an unkulation.

Brotherly butt fucks come and go, but a good unkulation is something a boy
remembers forever.

Till his dying butt-fucked day.

You got a nephew, oh reader of mine?

Did you ever think of unkulating him?

I bet your nephew might be up for it too. Just like Murphy, I bet he's half
curious.

You never know, friend.

Your own nephew might be a naughty little piece of unkulation waiting to
happen.

# # # # # # # # # # # # # # #

But anyway, Murphy.

Let's sit here and talk dirty about him.

Let's sit here in the food court at the mall and talk dirty while we watch
him.

I mean, why not, right? I'm going to fuck him before the story's over, so
there's no sense sitting here being all awkward and shy and polite about
it, dabbing a napkin at the corner of our mouths like Southern prisses at
the debutante ball. Skip the mint juleps and the fiddle-dee-dee. Let's talk
dirty about the little fucker how much we want to pop off a cumload in his
sweet Alabama spermcatcher.

I'm all for unkulating as many boys as possible. Let's get started on
Project Unkulate ASAFP.

Look at him with me, here in the food court with his soccer buddies. This
kid lives to play soccer. Goes to tournaments. Plays like thunder. This kid
could get a soccer scholarship. He's that good. He's that tight.

Look at him over there eating his Hot Dog on a Stick. Talk about a chance
to see your nephew's mouth in action before it docks your cock.

JFC, his tongue is magnificent. Look how far that thing sticks out when he
licks up the ketchup. Imagine that glorious appendage slathering up, down,
and around your circumcised six-point-five.

His eyes are stunning. "Look at me when you suck that mandick,
Murphy. That's it. God, you're pretty. Keep on sucking. Got a dab of
mustard, baby. Nope, never mind. Got it with my dick tip. Here you
go. Swallow it down."

Open your mouth like that upstairs in my bed, Murph, and you'll get
unkulated fast, hard, and way too impolitely for your
inherently-problematic age-to-mancock ratio.

And guess what? I won't even fucking care.

# # # # # # # # # # # # # # #

Murphy is a boy of unmistakably solid construction.

A solid, substantial, fireplug boy.

A potent, athletic, vigorous boy.

The first time I tried to fuck him he let me put a finger in his butt, and
he giggled while I finger-fucked him and he kissed me like a trooper on his
own insistent accord, but that's as far as he let me go.

"How come you picked me to stay over, Uncle Rusty?" he asked me with a
knowing wink as he threw his backpack on the couch. "How come not Maddox?
How come not Marsh?"

"I guess I like you the best, Murph." I smiled at him and winked an eye. "I
guess you're just my favorite kid. You want a Coke?"

"Uh-huh," he said slyly, sizing me up. He was smart as a whip this
one. Like a lawyer, looking for angles. "You want me stayin' over here
tonight so you can try to put your big ol' hog up my rump. I bet you wanna
fuck me hard."

"What do you know about fucking, Murph?"

"Plenty, old-timer. I cornhole Marsh, and Maddox cornholes me."

"Malcolm in the middle, huh?" I grinned at him.

"Malcolm?" he looked puzzled. "Who's Malcolm? I'm Murphy."

"Before your time," I told him. "Ancient television."

"Whatever. I know you like ticklin' me. I know you like smellin' around at
my backdoor."

I raised my arms and shrugged. "Guilty as charged," I told him. "Superman
sniffer with all you boys. Up up and away."

"You've been feelin' and smellin' at my parts since I was little, Uncle
Rusty."

"Fair enough," I told him. "Can I feel a few this weekend?"

He reached down and rubbed at the little bulge growing in his
shorts. Shrugged. Looked at me fearlessly with confidence beyond his years.

"You can suck my big ol' hog, but you ain't fuckin' my butt, Uncle
Rusty. That rule's for certain. Your big ol' monster cock would rip the
guts clear out of me."

I smiled at him and scratched my bone absentmindedly.

"That's the whole idea, Murph. Lay you down in that bed tonight and make it
smart a little. Take out this big monster cock and unkulate you."

"Ha!" he grunted. "Unkulate! That's a good one. I bet you'd like to
unkulate me. Ha! You just try."

We ordered some pizza and put the topic aside. A big ol' Meat Lovers, as
Murphy called it, and a two liter bottle of Sprite. Bread sticks with
sauce, because he insisted and I'm easy. When you're trying to get your
dick up a boy, the last thing you do is deny him his extras.

It came to the door about 30 minutes later. Murph grabbed a bread stick and
purposely fellated it to see if he could get a rise from me.

Oh, I rose all right.

"You give pretty good head to some cheesers there, Murph. How good are you
at chompin' on what counts?"

I grabbed my cock and gave it a squeeze. He seemed unimpressed.

"You better watch it I don't bite that fucker off, old-timer" he said
casually. "I got sharp teeth."

"Come to bed," I told him. "I'll lick the sauce off `em."

"Ha!" he said, rolling his eyes, but I looked down and noticed his dickie
was hard and he was rubbing at it again. Talk dirty to a boy and you're
gonna make his dick hard. Guarantee you.

We started off by wrestling and rough-housing on my bed. A little bit of
tickling. A little bit of grabbing. There were some dick grabs. No need to
hide it. We both knew this was a sex-stuff night.

Then I told him we might be more comfortable if we took our shorts off and
wrestled in our undies. Then I told him we might be more comfortable if we
took our undies off and wrestled with our cocks out.

We shucked our duds quickly, and we were both rock hard. Mine was a
throbber. Murph's was a cutie. I had the long Hebrew National, he had the
fat Vienna Sausage. I went down on that little meat stick almost
immediately after he got it out, and I'd just got its good salt-copper
taste in my mouth when he was already pushing my head away and wrestling me
some more.

He got me pinned down, and I'm telling you, Murphy's a solid boy. When he
wants to pin a person, god damn it, you stay pinned. And as soon as he did
it, he starting kissing me. Hungry french kisses. A surprise, but a good
one. I had no idea that Murph was a kisser.

He rolled off sideways and I reached down to stroke his cock as we kissed.

"Nuh-uh," moaned with a mouthful of uncle tongue. "I'll jack myself."

And he did. Reached down with his own little hand and started stroking his
own little pecker. Son of a bitch. Will wonders never cease. Seems like he
didn't need me for a god damn thing. Just the kissing.

So, when in Rome.

I kissed him some more.

"Well if I can't stroke you dick, I guess I'll just have to finger your
pussy," I told him.

He giggled, but I wasn't kidding. I brought a finger up between our lips,
got it coated nice and slippery with my spit, and while he kissed me
hungrily and jacked his dickie, I reached down between the split of his
peaches and started to twiddle my wet finger up his hole.

He squeezed and giggled again until I got into him two knuckles deep and
then he just kissed me and moaned as he jerked his little pecker and my fat
slippery forefinger played uncle games up his rump.

"Unkulating your boy hole, Murph," I moaned into his mouth.

His kisses became urgent. His breath became a gasp.

"Yeah," he grunted. "Do it even harder."

I poked inside and rammed it at his prostate.

"Oh yeah," he grunted. I could smell his sweet ass smells. "Dirty
fucker. Gonna shoot it!"

"Shoot it, Murph," I growled as I finger-dug. "Shoot it hard."

"NNNGGGH," he grunted, as he clenched his cheeks around my finger and he
came in a shudder. His fat little dick shot a few clear droplets of
juice. Semen, not sperm. Starter juice. Boy honey.

Breaking his kiss and removing my finger like a cork from a bottle, all
sticky and sweet-smelling, I got my mouth down to his cock as quick as I
could to taste that sweet nectar while it was still warm and trickling from
the spigot.

"Aw, yeah. That's good," he muttered. "You were itchin' it up me real good,
Uncle Rusty."

"Unkulated your butthole, Murph." I told him, swallowing boy jizz and
smacking my lips. "Gonna let me put my cock in there now?"

"You try that and I'll piss in your mouth," he growled. He jutted his cock
like he meant to do it. Didn't bother me none. I sure wasn't any-too scared
of boy salt.

I stuck my finger back in his hinder and gave it a couple slow poke-twists.

"I'll go slow," I told him. "Really gentle, Murph. You'll see. My cock was
born to cum in here."

"Nope," he repeated. "You can jack it for me. That's all."

"Aw, Murph. At least suck me off," I groveled a bit hopefully.

"Nope," he said stubbornly. "Jack it, old-timer."

I sighed and got to work. He watched me and giggled and let out a little
"oooh" as I shot a load all over his belly. He stuck a finger in it and
swirled it around. Brought a goopy finger to his nose and gave it a
sniff. Grimaced.

"That's just nasty," he said. "That's way thicker'n what Maddox
shoots. You're not putting that stuff in my mouth or up my butt, Uncle
Rusty. Ain't no way."

"We'll see, Murph. We'll just see about that."

Sometimes an uncle needs to take the bull by the horns. Remind a boy he's
still a boy. Not this visit, but the next one. He'd be sucking my cock in
no time. Swallowing my ball load too. You watch me. We're getting' up that
boy's butt by the time you click the back arrow on this one, fuckers.

You probably have a nephew too. If you do, don't let him get to
smart-mouthed on you, hear?

Give him some leeway, but lay down the law when it comes to what counts.

I bet your nephew has a fine ass too, doesn't he.

Lord, I just bet he does.

# # # # # # # # # # # # # # #

But anyway, Murphy.

Let's sit here and talk dirty about him.

Let's sit here in the bleachers at his soccer match and talk dirty while we
watch him.

I mean, why not, right? I'm going to lift his legs up and munch on that
boycunt of his before the story is over, so we might as well throw caution
to the wind and say the dirtiest things we can think of while we watch him
play soccer.

To hell with a bed. I'll fuck him right here on the soccer field. He's
obviously ready. He's obviously waiting. Might as well give him what he
craves ASAP.

Look at those buttcheeks. Glorious, glorious stuff. I'd munch on that ass
for a good hour before sending Uncle Rustycock on his inevitable Mission
d'Amour. God, I'd hose his colon with sperm like a Florida retiree hosing
his driveway. I'm stiff as steel just looking at him. How about you?

One load of patented Uncle Rusty's Egg Beaters Extra Thick Unkulation
Sauce, coming right up. Tell Sis to get back in her fucking bedroom as soon
as she can, because it's going to get really noisy and busy in the boys'
room really soon, and if she doesn't want to smell Murphyass and Rustycock,
she better skedaddle.

Whoof, look at him run down that soccer field. I'd barely have Rusty Junior
out of his confines before exploding all over that soccer-sweaty ass-slick
fucker. Love that sweaty, scruffy head of his. And damn, those thigh
muscles. Yep. Sis needs to make like a tree and leave. This is a girl-free
zone.

After I accidentally preemie-ejay all over Murphy's sweet face, that boy's
getting fucked.

Sure as shit and right as rain.

Guarantee you.

# # # # # # # # # # # # # # #

Murphy is a boy who's built Ford tough, off road and highway. I think we'll
get good mileage in him.

A firm and rock-hard meaty boy.

A rigid, solidified, concrete boy.

The second time I tried to fuck him, he let me eat his ass and suck his
little prick, but he still wouldn't put my dick in his mouth or eat my
sperm.

He let me cum on his face though, and that was plenty welcome.

"You gonna shoot it on me?" he asked me in bed that next weekend after we
made out again and I slapped his hand away from his own little hard-on and
reached for my own. He wasn't going to jack himself off two weekends in a
row and leave Uncle Rusty in the dust. Uh-uh. Not again. Not in my bed.

"Soon," I told him. "First I'm gonna lift your legs up and eat the hell out
of your pussy."

"Really??" he asked, his eyes bugging out with delight and
embarrassment. "Right where I shit from?"

"Yep," I told him. "Right where you shit from."

"Even if it ain't quite clean?"

"Especially if it ain't quite clean."

"Wow," he muttered, and I could feel him getting squiggly, excited at the
prospect. I guess a leisurly rim job wasn't on the Maddox menu yet.

"Yep," I told him. "I'm gonna stick my face right down in there your
boyhole, sniff up your molecules and slurp up all your flavor. Then I'm
gonna jam my tongue up your honey hole and listen to you squeal."

"You're one sick fucker, Uncle Rusty," he giggled. "Nasty, nasty uncle
fucker."

"Nasty nasty nephew fucker," I corrected him, and flipped his legs up in
back of his head so fast you could hear the whoosh sound fly off his
thighs.

"Nnnngh," he mumbled through muffled grunts and he bit his lower lip as my
big old mouth made contact with his squeaky little starfish. Fucking
Alabama heaven. The South shall rise again! The burst of flavor that
assaulted my taste buds when my tongue first touched, then lapped, then
feasted at his backdoor was like a Sunday picnic on the church grounds,
fried chicken and cole slaw, right in front of the Pastor.

"That's it, Murph," I coached him. "Wiggle it around. Grind that honey spot
in my face some more."

He did as he was told. I ate him until he was panting, then came up for
air, took his salty little dick in my mouth and sucked him off quickly to
the jerkiest little cum pump he ever had in his life.

"MANNNNNNNNNN," he hollered, "You're a nasty Uncle Rusty!" as he grabbed my
head and pressed it hard into his sausage-twitcher. I swallowed his meager
boy drops with astounding satisfaction.

I scooted up with my own leaker in my hand and pointed it straight at his
face, still flushed from his boycum.

"Put it in your mouth," I ordered him. "Do it right now."

"No," he grunted. "You just jack yourself."

I slapped him in the cheek with it.

"Open your mouth and suck my cock, damn it."

"No," he repeated. "You dirty old fucker."

"Fine," I told him, then aimed it straight at him. "If you're not gonna
suck it, I'm gonna paint your face white with it."

He grinned and he giggled. "Dare you, old-timer."

I stroked it fast and in no more than ten, let loose with a gusher all over
his face.

"FUCCCCCCCKKKK," I grunted as it splashed on his eyelids. He squinted his
eyes shut and giggled. It dripped down his nose.

"It's hot," he whispered. "All gooey. That's sick."

"Eat some," I growled.

I scooped some up with my mushroom and fed it toward his lips.

"Got some in my eye," he grunted, rubbing his lid. "It burns, you fucker."

"Eat some," I repeated.

"Nope," he growled at me, shaking his head. "I ain't puttin' that slime in
my mouth."

"Next time you are," I assured him. "You stay here next weekend and you're
eating every drop. Come here or don't. But next weekend you eat it."

He blushed bright red and reached down to stroke his hard pecker, which was
ready for round two.

Boys like Murph don't ever stop at one little cumshot. Boys of Murph's age
can go one after another.

I bet your nephew can pop double cums too.

I bet you'd like to drink-up both in a row.

Lord, I just bet you would.

# # # # # # # # # # # # # # #

But anyway, Murphy.

Let's sit here and talk dirty about him.

Let's sit here in the car line after school gets out and talk dirty while
we watch him.

I mean, why not, right? I'm going to pry open his yap and gag him with my
fuckstick, so we might as well sit here and tell each other all the filthy
ways we'd like to unkulate him as we wait to pick him up from school today.

Look at him there, talking to his 6th grade school friend. Never too young
to swallow the stalk. After some repeat analingus to get him fired up,
let's try to lose a load in his tummy. Better yet, have him suck us till
we're hard, then poke his rump with a cock tip practically out of spite at
this point.

Just enough to dock. Just enough to cum. No need to be greedy and sink it
to the root. Good things cum to those who wait. He's in 6th grade now. By
7th, he'll be a whimpering, simpering, begging-for-it boy whore.

I actually relish eating him out. Nom, nom, nom. I'm actually sitting here
in the car, making the Cookie Monster noise out loud just looking at his
ass and remember how it tasted. Thousand Island dressing. A little stinky
Stilton. Brine inside the olive jar. The pee in baby's diaper.

Damn, I need to fuck that boy. Cum in his ass, slurp my load out of his
hole and then mama bird it into his mouth again. With a stocky-firm boy
body to grow, I'm sure he's hungry for protein. It takes a lot of nutrients
to keep a stocky boy fed. Open up and swallow it, Murph. It's for your own
damn good, you little cocktease.

My cock is gettin' FEASTED on this weekend. "Stay just like that, baby. I'm
just going to slide this t-shirt off your handsome body while you do some
jaw exercises and get ready to gobble my sixer." Nifty readers, hand him a
napkin. Whoops, he's already shirtless. Guess he'll need a lobster bib.

Oh fuck, what a beautiful boy mouth. Look at him talking to his friend over
there. Red, wet lips that'd make your peepaw have a wet dream.

And that perfect, sturdy ass. The kind that could snap a cock off. You can
see it right through his school pants. Look at the breathtaking valley of
crack created by those pants and undies clinging to his pussy. My cock
wants to submit a homesteading claim there. Start a life. Raise a family
(him, me, and all the cum babies he shits out through his boyhood &
adolescence).

And let's face it - his undies are going to become a cum rag this
weekend. Soaked with my semen. Semen DRENCHED. The pheromatic aroma alone
would be enough to start a sperm farm.

"Breathe in deeply, Murph. Smell it all up. That cum smells good, doesn't
it? Get down here and smell it off my cock pubes. Nephewlate me with your
nose, Murph. Nephewlate me with your nose while I unkulate you with my
cock."

# # # # # # # # # # # # # # #

Murphy is a boy who isn't scared of anything in pants, least of all me.

A robust, tough and hardy boy.

A strapping, burly, rugged boy.

The third time I tried to fuck him, he sucked my cock, ate my sperm and let
me stick my cock tip inside him but then he made me take it out `cause it
hurt.

"Marsh wants to sleep over too, Uncle Rusty," he told me over Meat
Lovers. "He's askin' me how come I always get to sleep over at your house
and he never does."

"Because I ain't tryin' to get up his ass yet," I told him.

Murphy giggled and snorted his Sprite. He coughed and recovered.

"I bet you'd like to fuck his little hinder," he said. "He'd be tighter'n
me."

"I'd be happy just to get into yours, Murph," I told him. "You're guarding
it like the vault at First National."

"Aw, pipe down, old-timer," he grinned. "Tonight I'm gonna suck your cock
and drink your nasty old sperm. I been practicin' on Maddox so I don't
puke."

"I bet he liked that," I said. "You givin' him extra practice rounds."

"Yep," Murph nodded. "He liked it twice. Once this morning and once after
school."

"Damn it, boy, get your ass in that bed."

I stopped him in mid-pizza slice, chased his giggling ass down the hallway,
picked him up and literally threw him on my bed, all-but tore his clothes
off, sucked his little cock, ate his little ass, gave him his little boy
shivers, and this time when I scooted up and stuck my cock in my face, he
went right down on it easy as pie.

"Ohhh, Murph," I moaned. "You do that good."

He smiled and looked up at me proudly, mouth full of cock. He knew just how
to do this. He had an older brother at home with needs of his own to
manage, so believe me, Murph knew how to suck a bigger-size cock and
swallow a load like a born-to-it natural.

It didn't take me long that night to feed him some swimmers.

"NNNGGGH," I grunted grabbing his head and making him gag. "Take a big
fucking drink of this one, you little cockslut."

He gobbled and root-swallowed as a whole big pile of pudding came splashing
down my urethra and straight down his throat. Gave him a tummy full of
magic.

"Damn," he said, coming up sputtering. "That was a thick one, Uncle
Rusty. Way thicker'n Maddox."

"Maddox ain't been tryin' to get it down your belly the last three years
like I have. Put it this way. I saved up for you."

Murphy giggled.

Later that night when he was sleeping spooned next to me, I spit on my
fingers, lubed up my cock, swiped a bit across his hole and tried to slip
it in him into his ass while he slumbered. I didn't think I'd get away with
it, but fuck it, I was horny. It was my bed. My nephew. Let the unkulation
begin in earnest. No harm trying, I figured. With or without him.

"Ow," he hissed. "Take it out, Uncle Rusty. It ain't gonna fit tonight."

I was blue-balled to beat fifty bands, but I pulled it back like a
gentleman.

"God damn it, Murph. You drive a man crazy."

"Next weekend," he promised. "I'll let you cornhole me all the way up my
ass next weekend. I'm tired now."

"Fair enough," I whispered, kissing his ear and letting him go back to
sleep, but not before I jacked off in his butt crack and got him all
slippery.

"Pervert," he whispered through grouchy old sleep grumbles. "Dirty old
fucker."

I rubbed my cock tip in the valley of the mess I made but I didn't stick it
in him. Not yet anyway.

I bet your nephew's got a sweet, sticky crack valley too.

I bet you'd like to rub around down there.

Lord, I just bet you would.

# # # # # # # # # # # # # # #

But anyway, Murphy.

Let's sit here and talk dirty about him.

Let's sit while he takes his pants and underwear off in my bedroom and talk
dirty while we watch him.

I mean, why not, right? I'm going to fill him so full of semen by morning
he'll be blinking back white cum tears, so it sure won't hurt him to talk
about a butt fuck.

After eating him out for a good couple hours, I imagine my precum's gonna
be flowing like a leaky old faucet. Not dripping mind you - more like a
steady, syrupy flow to the bedsheets.

That copious stuff'll be spilling into Lake Rusty right straight outa' Lake
Rusty Falls. I'd almost want a spare hand down there collecting it for
Murph and fingering it back into him like a fork full of Eggos in a pool of
Aunt Jemima's.

And you know what comes next, don't you?

I mean, pay attention. Where's this story been leading, slow poke? Go back
up there and read the disclaimer. We were already talking about fucking him
way up there at the top. You think I forgot?

After eating him out for a good, long while, sucking his cock and have him
sucking mine, what am I gonna do? Punch out on the timeclock and go home?
Hell no. He's ratcheted up Rusty Junior somethin' awful. I've emitted
enough precum to lube an automobile chassis.

After I tasted the forbidden (but readily accessible) fruit, my cock's been
watching Murph with his lone eye in the middle and waiting
not-so-patiently. Hell, my cock had a front row seat for the
analingus. It's literally drooling for a taste of its own.

Why should my mouth have all the fun, right? My cock wants in on the
action. But cock's not a licker. My cock's a burrower of the species. It
can't swallow. It can only drool syrupy precum and spit, vomit and firehose
its happiness in the form of semen. It wants to impregnate what it likes
with his lust. And that would be Murphy.

And like I said earlier, no need to be greedy and sink to the root. I think
I'll start out with three and a half. Isn't that generally considered a
compromise? That would be a nice accomplishment inside the rectum of
12-year-old Murph.

Then again, I'm the man & he's the boy. If it's Murphy's impossibly pretty
face I'm gazing down upon, Rusty Junior might want to burrow inside
completely.

Didn't Gordon Gekko say "Greed is good"? Isn't that the American dream for
Boylovers? Full immersion? Balls-deep?

I mean, I might be more than tempted to grab a corner of the bed sheet,
stuff it in his mouth, and inform the switch operator that the Rusty
Express is commencing fully into Murphy's railroad tunnel.

Don't worry, Murph. Stop your ass blubbering. I'll proceed at a safe, slow
construction speed.

"Oh MARY MOTHER OF GOD is that tight."

Encased Uncle Rusty sausage, available in your grocer's meat department.

Now featured exclusively in all Amtrak dining cars.

And a full, hot portion in Murphy's caboose.

# # # # # # # # # # # # # # #

Murphy is a boy who'd let you start fucking him on Friday, and if you
weren't done by Sunday, fine with him.

A sturdy, strong and durable boy.

A lusty, husky, beefy boy.

A boy who takes it twice in a row.

The fourth time I tried to fuck him, he let me fuck him and cum up his ass.

"Now you gotta go slow, Uncle Rusty," he warned me with seriousness, over
bread sticks. "I'm only 12-years-old back there and your cock's a
hunnurd-and-forty."

"Smart-ass," I told him, grabbing for the sauce cup. "I'll give you a
hunnurd and forty up your wet little snatch-hole." Truth be told, I was
hoping for more.

"That's what I'm afraid of," he said. "Maddox cums about ten seconds after
he gets it in me. You might go all night."

"I'll make it quick, Murph," I promised him. (Another flat-out lie). "I'll
be over and done-with before you know it's in there."

He looked dubious, and for good reason. I was going to fuck his rectum raw,
and we both knew it. I didn't know he'd be letting me fuck him twice, so I
damn sure intended to make the first one count.

We finished our pizza, he burped and licked the sauce off his lips. There
was red sauce left over from our customary bread sticks and I had a brief
flash fantasy of coating his sturdy little fireplug with it and sucking it
off, but that trick would have to wait until later. Right now my cock was
so hard, the last thing it wanted to do was wait for my taste buds. Mouth,
wait your turn. We've got a job to do here, and we're waiting in the wings.

No scampering off to the bedroom tonight. No running down the hallway
giggling and shrieking with me running after him. On a typical night, I'd
be swatting at his ass and grabbing his armpits for a tickle, but tonight
old Murph was walking the Green Mile. Poor old Murph was shuffling down
that hallway like a boy about to meet his doom. Shit, he even stopped to
look at pictures on my walls.

"That's a nice frame," he stalled as he fingered it. "You get that at
Disneyland?"

"Get in the bedroom," I growled at him firmly. Disney, my ass.

Funny how boys are. They can be dirty-mouthed and full of bravado to the
very last minute, but when it becomes painfully obvious (pardon the pun)
they're about to take their first mandick up the rump, all of a sudden
they're not so cocky anymore. The spring goes out of their step when the
realize they're about to take six-point-five up the colon.

"I'm a little bit nervous," Murphy admitted as he kicked shoes off and
flipped them off into the corner. He sat right down on the floor and tugged
off his socks. Sweet, pretty boy feet came into view, sturdy as the rest of
him.

I took my time unbuttoning my shirt and let him get used to our nakedness
again, a little at a time.

"No need to be nervous, Murph," I grinned at him. "It only hurts for the
first 90 minutes."

His eyes bugged out. "90 minutes?? Are you kiddin' me, Uncle Rusty??"

"Nah," I smiled. "Just fuckin' with you, Murph. Maybe five. Ten at the
most."

He didn't look any happier. "That's still a lot," he grumbled. "Maddox only
lasts a couple of pumps."

"Well, I'll see if I can take it easy on you."

"If it's way too much and I holler like the wind," he asked, all wide-eyed
and serious, "you gonna make fun of me and think I'm a baby?"

"You'll be the best kind of baby, Murph," I smiled at him. "The kind I can
rock all damn night."

He smiled nervously.

"I can make it feel good for you, Murph. Believe me. I'm good at it."

He shrugged. Unzipped his drawers and pulled his pants down. I took mine
off too.

We stood there regarding each other in our underwear; mine a pair of men's
boxer briefs, his a pair of kids Fruit of the Looms, classic white. With
another shrug, he shucked his undies off and I did the same. I was hard as
a rock. His was tiny as a caterpillar. Little boy fear pecker.

"Well," he said nervously, bucking up his own courage, "It can't be much
worse than Maddox cornholing me when he started. He's been doin' it since I
was 8 and he was 11. It hurt some at first, but then I got used to it."

"He got a big one?" I asked, wondering what my 15-year-old nephew was
toting these days.

"Shorter'n yours by an inch or two. And not thick as yours yet."

He looked at my boner and I smiled as he gulped. I actually saw his Adam's
apple bob. "Not so smart now, are you?" I thought.

But I simply said, "Come here, Murph. It'll be okay." And when he did, I
wrapped his shivery frame in my arms and naked I kissed him, chest to chest
and body to body.

How long did we kiss? I'm really not sure. Long enough to turn his jitters
into sighs. Long enough to turn his tension into goosebumps.

"Wanna suck each other first?" I asked him.

"Naw, just cornhole," he said. "Let's just do it before I chicken out."

"Want me to eat your hole for you, Murph? Get it all wet and loose?"

"Yeah," he sighed, lying down on the bed and holding his legs up.

There's a point in a the sexualization of a boy where he knows enough to
hold his own legs up. If you have to do it for him, he's still on the
fence. If he lays smack down on your bed, grabs the back of his knees,
holds his legs out of the way, and points his asshole at your face, trust
me, he's ready to be fucked.

I dove right in. "Put your money where your mouth is," I thought
ridiculously. My mind comes up with the weirdest thing when I'm about to
eat a boy's ass. I was assaulted by the butt scent immediately; the sweet
sour cheese of his buttermilk back door. He moaned the minute my lips
touched his treasure.

I swirled my tongue around his tasty little anus and Murphy cooed like a
pigeon on a rooftop. His hole was afire with a cavalcade of flavors. There
was butter and salt, and baby swiss cheese, and something that tasted like
a little bit of collard greens. It tasted like homecoming eating his
ass. It tasted like home.

"Put it in," he urged me, grabbing desperately for my cock. "Line it up
quick and get it in me."

I came up for air, kissed him with his own ass smell on my face, grabbed
the lube on the bedside table, popped the cap and slicked-up my bone,
touched it to his puffy-pulse hot spot and gave a small push at the gate of
my prize.

"Ow, ow, take it out, take it out!"

I pulled back. Relubed.

"Too fast," he grumbled. "Go slower. Way slower."

I pushed forward again, and again he complained.

"Stop it, Uncle Rusty. It ain't gonna fit."

"It'll fit, Murph. Just believe me. Relax now."

I coaxed him through the first sphincter, in starts and in stops. A push
here, a nudge there. Stopped to let him wince. Stopped to let him build up
his confidence before my mushroom popped through his outer anal ring. He
smiled weakly with relief and said, "There. There's the first rubber band."

He took a deep breath and got ready for the second one. Any boy who's been
fucked before knows the first sphincter's easy. Like picking the lock on
your sister's diary with a hairpin.

It's the second one that causes troubles. It's the second one that holds
the sharpest pain points.

Getting through the first one's a breeze. Getting past the second one's a
safecracker. It's like clicking through the vault at Fort Knox. You gotta
slow down and listen for the tumblers in that one.

"Damn," he said as he bit his lower lip on the first sharp
knock-knock. "Yours is way bigger than Maddox, Uncle Rusty. That's for damn
sure." He was labored and panicking.

"We'll get it in there," I told him. "No hurry. Just give it a second."

He took a deep breath and he focused.

I kept pushing in slowly, not hard, but steady.

He had a couple beads of sweat on his forehead and I leaned down and kissed
them off. He wasn't blooming open yet, but I could feel the ring starting
to give just a little.

A centimeter here, a centimeter there, all I had to do was keep the
pressure steady and keep him relaxed and I'd be through in a minute.

"Man," he said. "This is harder than I thought. Maybe try some more of the
slippery stuff."

I pulled out, relubed liberally and put it back in him.

"Yeah," he sighed. "That's better. Now it's all slicker again."

"Attaboy, Murph," I whispered as I pushed at him. "Any second now. I feel
it starting to give."

The one thing I didn't tell him was that old Nifty chestnut, "push out like
you have to poop." Good Lord, who came up with that ridiculous line? You
see it everywhere, done to death.

I'll tell you one thing, friends, whoever came up with "push out like you
have to poop" for fucking a 12-year-old has clearly never fucked one,
that's for sure. Because man, let me tell you, if you tell a 12-year-old
"push out like you have to poop" at his virgin insertion, I promise you one
thing, buddy. Nine times out of ten you're gonna get poop in your bed.

"Stop," Murphy said frustrated. "It ain't gonna fit."

"Let's kiss," I told him. "Let's kiss and I'll finger it."

So that's what we did. We snuggled up comfortably. Pulled him into my
chest. Kissed his pretty lips until he was calm and relaxed again, sporting
wood. Then I wet a finger and started to penetrate him. No problem
there. My finger went in. First one, then two. He winced on two, but I got
the pair in him. Now he was open. Now he was in bloom.

"There," I said. "That wasn't so hard."

"Now you can go," he told me, confidence restored. "Now you can stick your
big ol' hog in me."

A sigh. A smile. An acceptance of the inevitable. His sigh told me more
than his ass did. He was ready now.

I re-lubed generously, lined it up with his rosebud, and this time with a
slow, steady push, it went right in.

"Unnngh," he grunted as I took the first three inches. "Just a second. Hold
it."

I did, and he breathed again.

"Okay," he said. "Go more. Go all."

I pushed one more time, and there it was. So easy. I bottomed out to the
root.

Six-point-five's not huge, but it's a whole lot of dick when you put it in
a rectum that small. Murph was quiet, breathing labored but steady.

"It fits," he said. "Tight as a glove, but it's all in there."

"It sure is," I whispered. "I'm gonna fuck you with it now, okay?"

"Okay," he said. "Don't go too long."

"Okay," I told him. "I'll go slow and soft and not too long."

I slowly started my in-and-out, stroking him shallow at first, then
deepening in increments. I had no need to go balls-kissing-balls. I gave
him full strokes, but there was no need for grinding it. I felt him relax a
little more with each confident stroke.

"Not too bad," he grunted. "Still way bigger than Maddox."

I pumped him slowly. His hand reached down to grab his own boner.

"I'm gonna jack it off while you fuck me, okay Uncle Rusty?"

"Okay, Murph. You jack your cock while I take care of your ass."

His eyes rolled back in his head. Then they closed. Then with my dick going
in and out of him, slow up and down strokes in that sweet little sheath, I
squirted a little lube on his hand so he could jack his own fireplug, and
wonder of wonders, he started humming something while I fucked
him. Rock-a-Bye Baby? I couldn't make it out. Some kids song? A lullaby?
Was he actually humming lullabies while I fucked him up the asshole? It
could be, my friend. It's a strange, wonderful world.

"I'm gonna cum, Uncle Rusty. I'm gonna cum pretty quick."

His hand was stroking faster. My balls woke up and smelled his excitement.

I picked up my pace to match his intensity.

"Nnngh," he moaned. "I think it's gonna shoot now. Go a little harder in
me. Just a little harder."

I punched forward with a little more spirit.

"Yeah," he said. "Oh, yeah, like that."

I ground forward into his almond spot, and pressed against his prostate
with an ever-quicker dick thrust. I was seconds away from a gusher.

"Oh yeah," he squealed, grabbing my butt cheeks. "Feels good! FEELS GOOD!
OH YEAH! Gonna shoot it!"

And then I felt him shudder and shake. His ass muscles gripped me, and for
a minute I thought he was gonna snap my cock off.

Then a splash, a watery boy jet shot out of his dick, then a splash,
another smaller one. They pooled in his belly button. They drizzled in his
hairless V.

I grabbed both his hips and I yanked his asshole hard onto me, like a
sheath.

"OOF," he grunted at the force of my deeper intrusion. I knocked the air
out of him,

"Gonna stick it in you far, Murph," I warned him. "Gonna cum up your ass
with my dick in you FAR."

He nodded and gritted his teeth, showing great courage and giving me
clearance. He grabbed my arms and his nails bit my skin.

I picked up my pace. I punched in his insides, and shivering, shaking,
crying out...

"NNNNGGGGH!" I bellowed as my cock hosed his insides.

I jabbed in as far as I could, I heard him wince and I let loose with
semen.

A volley. Another. My cum oozing hot semen straight into his rectum.

My God, was he hot. He was slippery-tight-gushy. A boy when you cum in him
– he's loose and he's tight. He's a clenching, sloppy paradox. He's
tight and he's loose, all at the same beautiful time.

"Oh man," Murphy grunted with a sigh and a butt clench. "I can feel it all
hot in me."

I pulled my dick out and I wiped it on his thighs. I took a deep breath
that ended with a shudder, "Whew."

He giggled and he squeezed me. I struggled to regain my composure. I
shivered again.

"There you go, kiddo, that wasn't so bad, huh?"

"Nope," he said. "I guess I got unkulated."

I heard him make a gurgles. A sweet little air fart.

"Eww," he grumbled. "There's your babies. They're running down my leg. You
and Maddox. You never wipe up."

I scooped some out of his butt crack and smeared his little fireplug with
it.

"Baby lotion," I told him. "It keeps your skin soft."

He crawled up and kissed me. I could still smell his insides. I could smell
both of us in the room. Boy ass and man cock. It was merging and humid, the
hot sexy smell of us.

"Feels like I have to shit," he grumbled.

"Well, that's romantic," I grumbled back.

He shrugged. "I said you could cornhole me. You wanna fall in love, start
working on Marshall. He's the gay one. He wants a sleepover next."

My balls moaned out loud even thinking of the temptation.

I reached my hand down and fingered his asshole. Cummy, drippy boy hole I
was already in love with. I wanted it again already. I wanted this squishy
young wet thing forever.

"Uh-uh," I told him. "Marsh is too young yet. Maddox is older. You're just
right, Murph. Right in the middle."

He grinned at me and rolled over. Laid in a side spoon in front of me, and
reached back behind himself and grabbed my cock in his hand. Sturdy, solid
boy hand. Solid as a rock.

He lined up my cock and pressed it to his asshole.

"Do it again, Uncle Rusty. Get it in me, old-timer." But his voice was
sweet and almost loving finally. "Do it in me twice."

I twiddled my cock in the crack of his ooze, got it hard, slipped it
forward and I heard the boy wince.

I sunk it straight into him and I grabbed sloppy seconds, perhaps
impolitely, but Murphy just sighed.

"Bigger'n Maddox," he grunted. "That's for sure, Uncle Rusty."

I was too busy fucking him to even think of talking back.

He started to hum again, same rock-a-bye baby. I fucked him slowly to the
rhythm of his music. Found a song of my own as I spermed in his insides.

"Nice," he said, as he clenched at my cock shaft. Damn, that boy had strong
ass cheeks. I felt half pinned inside the clench of him.

"Come on up here," I told him. "Let's get that cock in my mouth."

He giggled and scooted and aimed his little pecker at my lips. Murphy's a
boy of substantial design. He's stocky and strong and he's built like a
fireplug.

I gave him a wink as I squeezed his velvet steel ass. I opened my mouth and
I swallowed him whole.

"You're a good ol' fucker, Uncle Rusty," he sighed. "You can do that to me
all night long."

And truth be told, I nearly did. He moaned and he pumped as I sucked him,
delighted.

Maybe you've got three nephews too.

The oldest one's the chosen son, and he likely won't give you the time of
day. The little one's the baby and he's not quite ripe for harvest. But
then you get to the middle one; approachable, beautiful and lost in the
shuffle. He's not quite the chosen one. He's not quite the baby. But he
sure needs attention, and he'll go to all ends to get it.

My advice to you is: go for the middle boy. He's curious enough to be
willing, and ignored enough to be grateful. It's easiest to start with the
one in between.

Like the sweet little mouthful I was sucking on now.

Like the cum-sticky pleasure of Murphy in the middle.

# # # # # # # # # # # # # # #

THE END

# # # # # # # # # # # # # # #

The other ABC Boys by Zachyboy include:

http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/young-friends/andy-in-the-attic
http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/adult-youth/barrett-in-the-bathtub
http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/young-friends/casey-in-the-clubhouse
http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/incest/daddy-in-the-doorway
http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/adult-youth/facedown-in-the-freight-train
http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/young-friends/raven-in-the-rainstorm
http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/young-friends/treyden-in-the-treehouse

# # # # # # # # # # # # # # #

There are never enough thanks in the world to my "Smell This" co-author
Mark for providing some solid, sturdy uncle-nephew inspiration from a
hidden gem in his family jewels, and to Scuba Steve for unleashing his
magnificent filthy talk and letting me steal it all verbatim. I swear, you
boys spoil me. None better, far as pervs go.

Love, Z.

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