Date: Wed, 09 Feb 2011 15:47:19 -0500
From: bigmoh@post.com
Subject: My_Uncle's_Last_Days

MY UNCLE'S LAST DAYS
By: Morris Henderson


My cousin Robert telephoned to say that his dad was
seriously ill.  I was sorry to hear that and more
sorry that I had not been in touch with my Uncle
Frank for too long a time.  I had been working a lot
of overtime but that was a weak excuse for not
maintaining contact with my family.  Robert
explained that a practical nurse from hospice had
been coming to the house daily to take his vital
signs.  HOSPICE!  That meant that my uncle was
terminally ill!  Robert explained that his dad
insisted on dying at home but he no longer had the
strength to dress, fix his meals, or even walk
unaided to the bathroom.  Robert, his only son, had
been staying with him evenings and overnight and his
wife, June, had taken the daytime shift.  That had
been going on for three weeks.  I was upset that
they had not told me about Uncle Frank's illness
sooner but chose not to make our already precarious
relationship worse.  He had hardly spoken to me
since he found out I was gay or as he put it, "a
degenerate sinner."  Then came the real reason for
the call: would I spend a few nights with his dad so
he and June could get some much-needed rest?  Of
course, I agreed.

I arrived at my uncle's house after work on
Thursday.  Robert briefed me on what to do.  It
wasn't much.  "Dad's had supper," he said, "and June
will be here in the morning to fix his breakfast.
She's usually here at seven so you'll be free to
leave then.  But -- if you wouldn't mind -- could you
give him his bath tonight and help him use the
toilet when he needs to?  Oh, there's clean linen on
the bed in the spare bedroom.  You should be able to
get a full night's sleep."

He thanked me for helping out and left without so
much as a "How're you doing?" or "Good to see you."
At least he didn't lecture me on my "perverted ways"
as he had often done in the past.

I walked into my uncle's bedroom.  I wasn't
expecting what I found.  I remembered him as a
muscular, vigorous man even into his middle age but
he was now frail and gaunt, looking twenty years
older than his age.  "Jimmy Boy!" he exclaimed as
his face lit up in a broad smile.  "I'm glad to see
you."  I was twenty eight years old but he had
called me "Jimmy Boy" since I was a child.

"Good to see you, too, Uncle Frank," I replied with
a smile that I hoped would cover my sadness to see
him so feeble and pale.  Although we lived just
thirty miles apart, I hadn't seen him for months.
Back then, he was fit, healthy, and enjoying his
retirement.  He spent a lot of time on his hobby,
wood working, and played golf at least twice a
week.  Now, his body was wasting away and he needed
help to complete the most basic tasks of life.

His mind and wit, however, were not the least bit
impaired and we talked for almost two hours,
recalling the pleasant times we had enjoyed when I
was a child and he was much younger.  He joked and
laughed about many of the things we did together.  I
was pleased that, in spite of his infirmity, his
mood seemed quite upbeat.  But, when his energy
waned, he grew somber and said, "Damn cancer!  Takes
the get-up-and-go right outta me.  Can't hardly get
up, much less go."

"What's the prognosis?" I asked but immediately
regretted it because it might depress him.

"Terminal," he said succinctly but added, "Found out
about it too late, too late for any kind of
treatment.  Doc gave me two months.  That was three
months ago."

"You always were a fighter," I said.  "Maybe you'll
beat it."

He laughed, a kind of sarcastic laugh.  "Seen any
pigs flying lately?" he asked.

"No," I said contritely.  "I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry, too, Jimmy.  Not for dying.  I'm ready
for that.  I'm sorry that I didn't get to do all the
things I wanted to do.  Oh well.  I s'pose everybody
who's ever lived thinks that way.  We gotta play the
hand we're dealt.  Enough of that!  I'm gettin'
tired.  Would you mind helpin' me into the
bathroom?  I don't wanna pee my pants and wet the
bed."

It was relatively easy getting him out of bed; he
probably weighed only a hundred pounds.  He insisted
on using his walker without my help but I stayed
close in case he started to fall.  With what
appeared to be herculean effort on his part, he
dropped his pajama bottoms and literally fell into a
sitting position on the toilet.

With a sigh (Was it from pain or relief?) he said,
"It ain't only women that sit to pee.  Sick old men
hafta do it, too."

"That's not all," I said, trying to maintain the
light-hearted mood.  "I remember sitting down to pee
when I was little."

"Yeah," he laughed as a massive stream of urine
crashed loudly into the toilet.  "And your mama had
to teach you to hold your willy and aim it so's you
didn't pee all over the floor.  `Course now you've
got better things to aim it at, don'tcha?."

"HEY!" I exclaimed.  "Don't be making fun of my love
life!"

My uncle knew I was gay.  In fact, he was the first
one in my family to know.  I expected that he would
take the news with an open mind and I was not
disappointed.  "Well, Jimmy Boy," he had said, "If
that's what you want, then I wish you happiness."
His acceptance of my homosexuality was a sharp
contrast to my parents' reaction.  Mom was
disappointed and cried a lot; Dad was positively
hostile until the day he drowned on a fishing trip
ten years ago.  Uncle Frank, however, always had a
sympathetic ear as I struggled to come to terms with
my homosexuality.  He never judged me.  He
listened.  He asked all the right questions to make
me think it through.  And accepted most of my
answers but challenged me when I wasn't honest or
hadn't thought deeply enough.  With only a high
school education he was the perfect counselor.

"So how are you and Jon gettin' along?" he asked.

"Couldn't be better," I replied honestly.

"Still gettin' all the sex you want, then?" he asked
with a wicked grin.

"Yes," I answered.  "But that's all I'm going to
say.  Just `cause you were like a second dad to me
doesn't give you the right to know everything about
my sex life."

"Well...." he began but paused.  "I was just
wonderin'...."

"Wondering what?" I asked.

"Never mind.  I gotta take a bath.  June will be
pissed tomorrow if I smell like a locker room.
Can't stand that woman's bitching and nagging.
Don't know how Robert puts up with it.  Molly" [his
late wife] "wasn't like that, thank God.  She was a
passive little thing.  Even in bed."

"Too much information!" I said.  "Just sit there
while I fill the tub."

When the bath water was ready, I helped him off with
his pajamas.  "Skin and bones" is a cliché but he
was the nearest thing I had ever seen to a living
skeleton.  Except for his cock.  It was slightly
above average in size but seemed massive in contrast
to his emaciated frame.  Getting him into the tub
was scary.  I was afraid he would slip, fall, and
break a bone or two but I finally got him settled
onto a handicap chair in the tub.

"I know I'm a royal pain in the ass, Jimmy Boy, but
I gotta ask you to wash me.  I'm all worn out.
Don't have the strength right now to do it."

I took off my shirt so it wouldn't get wet.  He
stared at my chest and abdomen.  I assumed he was
wishing he was still solid muscle.  When I had
washed everything from the waist up I asked, "Do you
want to wash your private parts?"

He shot me a grin I couldn't interpret, but then he
added with a wicked grin, , "No, I'd LIKE you to do
it if you don't mind.  Don't worry.  I won't be
getting' a hard-on like when you and Jon wash each
other."  I let his comment pass.

He was wrong.  By the time I pulled back his
foreskin, the swelling in his cock was
unmistakable.  I moved quickly to wash his legs to
save him embarrassment.

"You sure you got it clean?" he asked.  "Robert
won't never touch it ... but to tell the truth ...
it felt good."

I took the hint and returned my attention to his
manhood.  If I could give him a little pleasure, I
was willing to do so.  His cock rose as I massaged
it with my soapy hands.  Not surprisingly, fondling
him was not the least bit arousing for me.  Instead,
I was glad to be giving him something that he
obviously enjoyed. When I glanced up, I saw his eyes
were closed and there was a half-smile on his face.
What's the harm? I asked myself and started stroking
his rigid hard-on.  He moaned softly with pleasure,
which I took to mean he wanted me to continue.  I
gradually increased the pace to jack him off.

After several minutes he inhaled sharply, jerked,
and shot a single, small load of cum.  That pleased
me but I became concerned when he started to
tremble.  Fearing that he might fall off the chair,
I put my arm around him and held him tightly.  He
laid his head on my shoulder and croaked, "Thanks,
Jimmy Boy.  That's exactly what this old man
needed."

I didn't reply.  What could I say?  I had just
jerked off my uncle.  He was grateful but I had a
vague sense of guilt.  When I felt he had recovered
and was steady enough, I helped him out of the tub
and dried him off.  When I was drying his penis, he
said, "Been a long time since the little feller felt
like that.  Thanks again."  I didn't respond.  What
could I say?  The distasteful idea of incest
ricocheted around in my head.  Never mind that he
had, in effect, asked me to masturbate him; I
wondered whether I was guilty of elder abuse.

I helped him put on fresh pajamas.  Although he
struggled to walk back to his bedroom, he
emphatically refused my help.  When he was settled
into bed, he apologized that he was sleepy.
Impulsively, I leaned down, kissed him on the
forehead, and then saw a tear roll down his cheek.
"Pain?" I asked.

"Nah.  Nothing I can't handle.  It's just that ...
well ... I love you, Jimmy Boy."

"And I love you, Uncle Frank.  Always have."

"GO!" he suddenly commanded.  "I'll call if I need
anything."

I was puzzled by his abrupt and insistent command to
leave until I guessed that he was exhausted.  Or
perhaps ashamed that I might see him cry.  Who
wouldn't cry facing impending death?

I went into the living room and called Jon to
apologize (again) for leaving him alone.  It was the
first night since we moved in together that we had
not fallen asleep in each other's arms -- usually but
not always after a round of exhilarating sex.  He
understood the situation and assured me that I need
not apologize for caring for my uncle.

I turned on the television, keeping the sound low,
but couldn't get interested in whatever was
playing.  My thoughts were on Uncle Frank and what a
cruel twist of fate was destroying his body and
robbing him of his life.  I wondered if he had
enjoyed any sex -- other than with his fist -- since
my aunt died twenty years ago.  No, I concluded, he
was not the kind to use a prostitute nor, as far as
I knew, did he have any women friends.

I checked on him about an hour later.  He was
sleeping soundly so I went to bed in the spare
bedroom -- the bedroom that had once been his son
Robert's and in which I had spent many hours as a
small boy playing with my cousin.

<><><><><>

The next day, Robert called again and asked if I
could spend two more nights with his dad on Friday
and Saturday.  Knowing what a strain it must have
been for him to care for his father every night, I
quickly agreed.

Uncle Frank greeted me enthusiastically.  "Hi there,
Jimmy Boy!"

"Hi yourself," I said.  "How're you feeling today?"

"Gettin' by," he replied.  But it struck me that his
characteristic, sunny attitude was fading.  "Sit
down.  I wanna talk to you about somethin'."

I sat on the side of the bed and asked, "What's on
your mind?"

"I've been thinking.  Hell, that's all I CAN do
anymore.  Anyway, I want you to know that I love
you.  I love Robert, of course, but he can be so
narrow-minded at times.  That's his mother in him.
She was a religious fanatic and it rubbed off on
him.  She tried to convert me but I couldn't abide
by the self-righteous crowd she admired.  You're
different.  You have the sense to see the world as
it is.  And see yourself for what you are.  I admire
you for that.  I love you for that.  But I'm gettin'
off track.  I wanna apologize for last night.  I was
outta line lettin' you jack me off.  Hell, I didn't
just LET you.  I as much as asked you to.  It was
unfair to you.  It was unfair to Jon.  Oh, I know,
you were just doin' me a favor.  And I'm grateful.
But I shouldna let you do it.  I'm sorry."

"No apology necessary," I said.  "I was glad I made
you feel good.  And don't worry about me and Jon.  I
told him what happened and you know what?  He kissed
me and said he was glad I did it.  He knows that I
love him and wouldn't cheat on him.  Last night
wasn't cheating.  Consider it a little bit of
therapy.  Okay?"

"GODDAMN IT!" he exclaimed.  I was shocked by the
sudden burst of anger.  "You have no idea what it
meant to me, do you?  Let me clue you in to
somethin' that nobody else in the world knows.
Remember when you were a boy and we had long talks
about bein' gay?  About how you can know for sure?
About how to be honest with yourself?  Ever wonder
what I was feeling at the time?  No.  Don't guess
you would.  I'll tell you.  I understood everything
you said because I had the same feelings when I was
a young boy.  Yeah, Jimmy Boy, I'm as queer as you
are.  Difference is I hid it from everybody.  Times
were different then.  Gay meant happy.  Homos were
queers or fairies and were tormented viciously.  So
what did we do?  We hid it.  We got married.  We
lived a so-called respectable life.  But let me tell
you.  The feelings never go away.  They just fester
inside.  Last night.  You were doing me a favor.
But -- in my mind -- I was having the gay experience
that I'd wanted for much too long."

I started to speak but he cut me off.

"Just shut up!  Let me finish.  I'm not foolish
enough to think jerkin' me off was anything more
than a favor to an old man.  I know it didn't mean
to you what it meant to me.  But damn it!  It was
somethin' I wanted most before I died.  Somethin' I
wanted for a long time.  You gave it to me, Jimmy
Boy.  There's no way I can thank you enough."

"You just did, Uncle Frank.  You're right.  I had no
idea what it might mean to you but now that I do,
I'm even happier that we did it."

We talked for another hour mostly about what it was
like to live in the closet and all the different
forms of pretense he had to go through to conceal
what he called his dark urges.  He confessed that he
never really enjoyed sex with his wife and sometimes
pretended that he was fucking a man.  It was a sad
story but he told it with an objective detachment
and with no hint of eliciting sympathy.

During our conversation I got an idea.  The more I
thought about it, the more right it seemed.  I would
give him the pleasure he always wanted but never
had.

"About bedtime, isn't it?" I asked.

"Nah," he said, somewhat surprised at the sudden
change in the conversation.  "It's not that late.
We can talk some more."

"We can talk later," I said.  I stood by his bed and
started to take off my clothes.  He watched me, no
doubt confused about why I had insisted on bedtime
and why I was undressing.

When I had my shirt, my shoes, and my socks off and
tossed carelessly on the floor, he must have deduced
what I was about to do.  "STOP RIGHT THERE!" he
loudly exclaimed.  "I didn't tell you how I felt
last night just so's you'd do me another favor!"

"I know that." I said.  "That was not your intent.
But it gave me an idea.  I'm sleeping in here with
you tonight.  In your bed.  But before we go to
sleep, you're going to have a REAL gay experience.
Let me do it, Uncle Frank.  Please.  Let me show you
how much I love you."

"But Jon...." he objected.

I interrupted him.  "Trust me.  Jon will
understand.  He would want me to do it."

Without waiting for more objections, I quickly
pulled down my trousers and briefs and stood next to
his bed.  His eyes scanned up and down my naked
body, settling on my crotch.  I allowed him plenty
of time to absorb the sight.  Have you ever seen a
little child peering through the window of a candy
store?  That's the look of longing that flooded my
uncle's face as he ogled me.

"You don't have to do this," he said
unconvincingly.  But after a pause he added more
forcefully, "I don't need no more favors.  What's
more, I sure as HELL don't want any GODDAM
SYMPATHY!"

"It isn't sympathy," I countered.  "I want to do it
as a gift to someone I love."  I didn't wait for any
more arguments but lay down beside him.  I kissed
him on the cheek and began to unbutton the front of
his pajama tops.

When I started to tease his nipples, he said weakly,
"This ain't right, Jimmy Boy."

"Yes it is," I said.  "I want to do it.  You'll
enjoy it.  What can be wrong with that?"

I don't know if it was what I said or the fact that
my hand had slipped down his pajama bottoms and was
fondling his cock but he no longer resisted.  His
dreamy expression was clear evidence that he would
submit to my ministrations.  Bearing in mind his
frail condition, I was gentle yet tried to be as
erotic as possible.  I felt his cock swelling in my
hand.  I kissed and licked my way down from his
nipples to the waistband of his pajamas.  He didn't
object when I pulled down his pajama bottoms enough
to provide full access to his erect penis.  I licked
his balls for a short time before licking up from
the root to the tip of his twitching cock.  I teased
his cockhead with my tongue.  I sucked him slowly to
prolong his pleasure.  I slipped a finger into the
crack of his ass and rubbed his puckered hole.  I
heard soft moans that told me he was enjoying every
moment, every sensation, every step closer to
orgasm.

When I did to Jon what I was doing to my uncle, I
would quickly get a hard-on.  This was different; I
was not aroused.  But one thing was the same.  Sex
with Jon was a way to show my love for him.  I was
showing Uncle Frank my love ... although a different
kind of love.

I moistened my finger in my mouth and pressed it
ever so gently into his rectum.  As I did so, I
heard him gasp, followed by moans of pleasure.  I
sucked and finger-fucked him for several minutes
accompanied by his quiet, indistinct mumblings.  His
moans were then interrupted by his cooing, "I'm
gonna cum, Andy."

I didn't know why he called me Andy but I readied
myself to receive his sperm.  He bucked his hips and
screamed as I tasted his creamy nectar.

I lay down beside him, put my arm across his chest,
and kissed him on the cheek.  His reaction to my
kiss was unexpected.  He turned his head and kissed
me full on the lips.  I chose not to invade his
mouth with my tongue -- not that I had a chance
because his kiss was very brief.  He settled his
head back down on the pillow with his eyes closed
and a satisfied smile on his lips.  After a few
minutes he said, "Thanks, Jimmy Boy.  That was
everythin' I'd imagined and more."

"I'm delighted you liked it," I said.  "But who is
Andy?"

He gave me a deer-in-the-headlights look for what
seemed to be a long time.  He turned his head to
look away from me and grunted, "Stupid question!"

"Not so stupid, Uncle Frank.  You called me Andy
just before you came."

He jerked his head toward me.  I could see fear in
his eyes.  "Oh, all right!  If you gotta know, Andy
was a shipmate in the Navy.  Handsomest stud I ever
met.  `Specially in the shower.  Broad shoulders,
massive chest, and a firm, tiny butt.  God, what a
cock he had.  He's the one I thought about when I
was alone in the head beatin' my meat.  He's the one
I imagined givin' me the blow job just now.  `Course
it was you doin' it but in my mind it was Andy.
Does that make me a crazy old fool?  Out of touch
with reality?"

"Not at all.  I've done the same thing ... before I
met Jon.  The only difference is that my fantasies
were of whatever boy interested me at the time.  I
suspect it's quite common.  And it sure increases
the pleasure of jerking off."  I kissed him -- on the
lips --and let my tongue slip into his mouth
briefly.  He responded with vigor that I didn't
expect from a weak, frail person.  The kiss
continued as our tongues probed each other's mouth.
But his head fell back onto the pillow and he seemed
exhausted.

I lay back down, draped an arm across his thin chest
and a leg over his spindly legs so my cock was
pressed against his hip.  "I love you, Uncle Frank.
Sleep well."

He dozed off long before I did.  I lay awake
thinking of his courage in facing death, his
frustration as a closet gay for decades, and (I
hoped) the brief moment of joy I had given him.

<><><><><>

The following night I arrived at Uncle Frank's house
unsure about what we might do together.  I wanted to
make his final days as happy as possible but I had
begun to worry that he might misinterpret things if
sex became routine.  I resolved to make frequent
mention of my love for Jon so he would understand
that any sex we had was merely sex.

June met me at the door and said, "Robert's father"
(It was significant that she called him that ... as
if Uncle Frank was her husband's problem and not
hers.) "took a turn for the worse today.  He can't
make it to the bathroom and has to use a bedpan.
 He's even grumpier than usual."  I refrained from
contradicting her by pointing out that I had never
found him to be grumpy or that enduring pain can
make anyone irritable.  She made a hasty exit with a
parting comment, "Good luck with the old fart
tonight."  I was left wondering if she had any
compassion at all.

I found Uncle Frank asleep.  I opened a book I had
brought and sat in the easy chair in his bedroom.  I
wanted to be close by if he awakened and needed
something.  Half an hour later, I was startled when
he called out, "Jimmy Boy!  When did you get here?"

"A little while ago," I replied.  "How are you
feeling?"

"Not so hot," he said with a tone of resignation.
"It's funny.  A guy gets to the point of wishin' to
die."

"I understand," I said although I couldn't really
understand since I didn't know the pain he was in.
"It's just not your time yet."

"My time!" he snarled.  "Don't give me any shit
about some divine plan!  Don't act like some
hypocritical preacher!"

I walked over and sat on the edge of his bed.  I
could have tried to point out the difference between
spirituality and organized religions but it seemed
pointless.  I even suspected that his son and
daughter-in-law had tried to impose their church's
doctrine on him once too often.

"Can I do anything for you, Uncle Frank?  Do you
want something to drink?  Do you have to pee?"

"Nah.  Well ... maybe hand me a mint from the
nightstand.  My throat's kinda dry."

We talked for a while about happier times when we
were both much younger until I asked again, "Want
another mint?"

"Nah," he sighed.  "But there is somthin' I'd like."

"What's that?" I asked.

He paused.  He seemed hesitant to say what he
wanted.   "I'm gonna ask a favor.  You can say no if
you wanna.  But would you get undressed, lie down
beside me, and just hold me?"

"I'd like that," I said with a grin.  I stripped and
stood so he could look at me.  Then, guessing what
he really wanted, I took off his pajamas and
snuggled up next to him.  In a few moments, I felt
his hand touch my cock.

"Can I?" he asked.

"Of course."

He was obviously happy to be able to fondle another
man's cock without feeling shame or guilt.  He must
have been happier still when my cock responded to
his manipulations by engorging and standing erect.

"You know," he said.  "What you did for me last
night ... it was wonderful ... almost everything I'd
wanted my whole life."

"Almost?" I asked.

"I know it's a lot to ask, Jimmy Boy, but there's
one more experience I'd like to have before I die.
I want the feel and taste of a man's cock in my
mouth.  You don't hafta but it would mean a lot to
me if you let me taste yours."

There was no way I could refuse.  Even if I were
straight and homophobic, I couldn't deny a favor to
the uncle I loved.  He had no strength to move so I
straddled his shoulders and guided my hard-on into
his mouth.  He eagerly accepted the intrusion and
even grabbed the cheeks of my ass to pull me farther
into him.  For a long time, he sucked and licked on
my cock.  He obviously didn't know that he should
keep his teeth out of the way but I was not going to
stop him.  He was enjoying it and I wasn't about to
dampen his joy.

Eventually, he tired.  His head fell back onto the
pillow with a broad smile on his face.  "Thanks," he
said.  "I love you, Jimmy Boy.  `Course not like Jon
does," he hastily added.  "But I love you for your
kindness."

We cuddled next to each other.  He wrapped his hand
around my still-hard cock and held it until it was
limp.  I thought he had gone to sleep but he
surprised me by speaking.  "I dunno if there's a
heaven, Jimmy Boy, but if there is I want to spend
eternity just like this --  layin' next to a handsome
naked man like you...  Wonderful is what it is."

"I hope there is a heaven," I said.  "And I hope the
man next to you is Andy."

<><><><><>

At six on the following Wednesday morning, Jon and I
were making love when the phone rang.  I was going
to ignore it but a phone call at that hour can only
be bad news.  It had to be about Uncle Frank.  I
picked up the phone.  The call was from Robert.
Uncle Frank had passed away in his sleep the
previous night.

I knew it was coming.  I thought I had prepared
myself.  But I cried.

The end