Date: Fri, 17 Feb 2017 23:08:17 -0700
From: Mack Marek <mack.marek42@gmail.com>
Subject: Uncle Louis

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This is a story about an incestuous romantic sexual relationship between
two consenting adults. If that's not your cup of tea, this probably isn't
the story for you.

------------------------

I've been a carpenter for ten years now. I've loved making things with my
hands ever since I had hands. We all have simple jobs in my family. My
father was a lumberjack, my mother a seamstress, my sister a waitress. I
guess there's not a whole lot that changes over the course of a few decades
in a small, rural town -- sure, we have the Internet these days, but
everybody knows everybody, it's rare for anyone to move away or anyone new
to move in, and for the most part everybody ends up doing the same thing
for a living that their parents did. It sounds worse than it is; truth be
told, the people here are pretty decent.

At 35, I'm officially way too old to be single, but I try to shrug it off
as just "not having found the right person yet." I'm not out to anybody.
It's not that I'm scared, exactly -- honestly, I don't really give a shit
what people think. But I have to work with them and go out to dinner with
them and have Christmas with them, and I can't see it being worth the
awkwardness, especially since I don't even think there's anyone else in
this town who's gay anyways. I figure maybe I'll move to the city one day
and fool around, but I like my job and my family and my house. It's a
simple life, and I'm not really ready to give all that up for a fling with
some skinny white kid who's never changed a tire.

My mom and sister gripe about me not settling down yet. I've been on a few
dates with some nice women but they ended pretty quick when I never acted
very interested.

I'm a pretty alright-looking guy: milk chocolate skin; smooth barrel chest;
big, calloused hands; a fine goatee. I started balding practically in high
school, but if you ask me, I look better without hair anyways. I look a lot
like my father did actually, except my goatee's still black.

Dad died of a stroke about a year ago, which was pretty hard on my mom, but
I make decent money and I help her out. It's his brother Louis who took it
hardest. He's a real recluse, always has been. Lives out on his own at the
edge of town. He never married and nobody sees much of him. He was really
only close to my dad, so it seems like nowadays he doesn't talk to anybody.

It was my mom's idea for me to ask him to go camping. Louis and my father
used to go camping every summer, back before I was born. I was never a big
fan myself, but it did seem like a good way to try and connect to the old
hermit.

So here we are, driving my old pickup down the 95, heading out to the woods.

Louis pops a beer and takes a swig, then he holds it out to me.

"Dude, that's illegal," I scold, brushing his hand away.

"When's the last time you saw a cop, Jim?"

His voice is deep and gravelly, kind of like when you lose your voice. He
always came across to me as a nice man, but he doesn't say a whole lot. He
might look stern but he's surprisingly gentle, strong yet soft. I never saw
much of him growing up, as he really kept to himself, but he's a good man.

Changing my mind, I grab the beer and take a sip. With the windows down, a
warm breeze pushes through the cab, and the cold fizzing sensation is
refreshing. I take one last swig, then hand it back.

As I pull off the main drag and onto the old beaten dirt road, I ook over
at Louis. He's 57 now, four years younger than my dad would have been. His
skin is dark, darker than mine, and weathered. He looks tired and worn.
Bald like me, with a bushy white beard, lines around his eyes. He's wearing
a white starched shirt. He's developed quite the gut since the funeral;
it's hard not to notice that Dad's death really took a toll on him.

He notices me and forces a grin. I hope that this camping trip is a good
idea and that he's not just going along out of obligation. Honestly, nobody
knows what to do for him. My sister thinks he should see a therapist, but
Louis seems like the kind of guy who wouldn't see a doctor if he
accidentally cut off his arm. The people of this town, especially the older
folks, pride themselves on self-reliance. He's stubborn, probably more so
than my father was even.

I pull up to the spot. Nestled among the trees it's cooler here, and
there's a stream just down the hill. We clamber out of the old Ford and
stretch our legs. It's quiet out here. Maybe I'll become a fan of camping;
as a kid, I don't think I have the same sense of appreciation for the kind
of peace you get out here as I can now.

Louis hoists himself up into the truck bed and I help him lift out the tent
and cooler. We make our way down the hill, trying not to stumble on the
loose rocks and twigs. The distant bubbling of the stream gets louder and I
take a deep breath of fresh pine, relaxed.

We set up the tent, a few casual words exchanged about the weather
forecast. Then, stiff from the long drive, I collapse on a rusty old
folding chair and watch the wind rustle the trees. Louis wanders off to
collect some firewood.

I'm starting to doze off when the wind picks up and startles me awake. The
sun is setting now, and the temperature is dropping. I stand up and shamble
into the woods, looking to catch up with Louis and help out.

The pine needles dampen my steps and among the trees, it's almost
completely silent. I wander along, shivering a bit when a breeze rips
through the wood, and admire the quiet. It's beautiful here.

A shuffling noise interrupts the tranquility of my walk, and I
instinctively turn to look. Something big is moving, probably a deer. Not
wanting to scare it away, I tread carefully, avoiding the pine cones, and
sneak towards the rustling.

It's just Louis. I inhale, about to shout, then catch it before I utter a
sound.

He has his cock out of his fly and he's stroking it. At this distance I
can't see much, but I can tell his eyes are closed and he's jerking
furiously. Stunned, I just watch stupidly as he pleasures himself.

Judging by his pace, he's getting close. His knees are shaking a little,
and the clasp of his belt is clicking together. Then he gasps and I can
tell he's cumming, although I'm too far away to see it. I stare unblinking
as he jacks his cock, seeding the forest floor, and I feel my own cock
strain against my shorts.

I'm hypnotized by the sight. I can't believe I'm watching my uncle jerk
off. He's my own blood for God's sake, and a couple of decades older than
me. But I've never seen anything like this, not pre-recorded but a
real-life performance. I can't help but imagine being there to capture that
flavor, instead of letting it go to waste on the ground like that. I'm
practically salivating at the whole spectacle.

I look up. Fuck. Oh fuck. He's looking directly at me. I scramble to hide
behind the tree trunk, knowing that he already saw. He doesn't call out and
I just rest my back against the bark and catch my breath. The breeze has
died down and the woods are completely silent and growing darker. I hear
him zip up his fly and the soft crunches of his receding footsteps.

After an eternity, I collect myself and make my way back to the camp. It's
dark and cold now, and when I reach the clearing, I see Louis has a fire
going and has popped another beer.

I sit in the chair opposite and grab a beer for myself from the cooler,
watching the flames dance and welcoming the heat against my skin. Neither
of us says anything, and I stare down at my shoes, too ashamed to look at
him. I nurse my beer, sipping every few seconds, eagerly anticipating that
warm buzz to diffuse my anxiety.

The old man reaches for another beer. Evidently he had started drinking
before I had come back to the camp, as there were already three empty
bottles at his feet. I down the rest of mine and get another as well,
feeling it start to kick in. Soon enough, my head is swimming. It feels
good.

Louis breaks the silence. "I haven't been back here since the last time I
camped with your father. What was it, eight, nine years ago? Shit." His
voice is slurred, I can tell he's pretty inebriated.

He went quiet again. I don't know what to say. After a while, he says, "I
miss Carl every day." His voice seems to catch on my father's name.

I look up at him. Tears are welling in his eyes. "Me too," I say quietly,
and it's the truth.

"We used to come up here every year, since we were kids. Up until he had
you and your sister."

My dad was a good family man. He wasn't like a lot of fathers who weren't
around. He taught me to catch and he took us fishing. I had never really
realized that, by raising us, he had distanced himself from his lonely
brother. It sinks in, and I suddenly feel a wave of sadness. My father had
my mother, his kids. Louis has been alone all this time.

Louis stands and staggers a little. He's definitely had too much to drink.
He stumbles back a few feet and unzips to relieve himself.

Horny, buzzed, and intent on getting a closer look, I follow him. I shuffle
over next to him and stand shoulder to shoulder, whipping my own dick out
to take a leak. I steal a glance at his cock as it streams piss against the
grass.

It's beautiful. He isn't circumcised like I am, and foreskin wraps his
bulbous cockhead. It's long and thicker than my hands could wrap around.
Nervous, I quickly look away.

"Just like your father's." He's looking right at my cock!

"W-what?"

"Your pecker. His was uncut like mine of course." He gestures down at his
own cock. I'm starting to chub, and I shove it hastily back into my
trousers.

He puts his own snake away and makes his way back to the chair, lunging for
yet another beer. I sit down, feeling suddenly sobered.

"Carl and I..." He trails off, looking despondent, then chugs the beer.

"Carl and I used to dream about being together."

I sit there, my brain trying to come up with other ways to interpret that
statement. I can't think of any, not right after he compares my dick to my
dad's.

I face him. "Tell me," I say with surprising strength.

"We knew that it couldn't happen," he sighs and pauses for a minute while
he collects his thoughts.

"It's not that he didn't love your mother, Jim. He did, in his own way. And
he loved you and Beth more than anything in the world. But we were in love
since we were teenagers.

"We knew it was never going to happen. Men don't marry men, and especially
not their own brothers.

"But we used to lie awake and talk about it. Build us a cabin together,
leave the world behind. Your dad would go out and hunt, I would tend the
garden and chop wood. Just us."

I sit dumbly, listening, trying to imagine what it must feel like to be
Louis, to be my father. To long for something that just could never exist.
I feel washed with sadness. I know that if anyone else were hearing this,
they would be disgusted, but I'm just heartbroken. Two men loved each
other, and it didn't matter who they were. They deserved to be happy.

I'm lost in thought, memories of my father flooding back in. Times when he
seemed distant, despondent, moments when he seemed in his own world. Was it
because he was thinking about Louis?

"People started to talk about us, so he married your mother. And he started
visiting me less and less when he had you kids. He wanted to be a good
father, and he knew that he couldn't do that if he was going to be with
me." Tears are flowing down his face now.

I stand, holding back my own. I feel nothing but empathy for this poor
tortured soul. I lean in over him, embracing him tightly. He sobs against
my shoulder, his whole body rocking. I can't think of anything else to do,
so I just hold him. He buries his face in my chest and I rub his back, then
carress his scalp.

After a few moments, he leans back, breaking the embrace. He wipes his face
with the back of his arm. "Thanks," he mutters quietly.

The night is dark, much darker than it gets in town, and the silhouettes of
the trees are barely visible against the sky. I look up, seeing thousands
of stars. A breeze stirs through the camp, sending shivers down my spine.

"I want to be alone for a bit," he says. I nod and shamble down to the
tent. I collapse on the air mattress, not bothering to undress or wrap up
in the sleeping bag. I lie there, remembering Dad, imagining him spooning
his younger brother in a tent like this, the rain fly off, staring up at
the stars together, picturing a life they'd never have. I drift off.

I come to with a splitting hangover. The world swims into focus around me.
I'm wrapped in a blanket and Louis' jacket; he's beside me, snoring softly,
huddled in a sleeping bag.

Groaning quietly, I slip out of bed and crawl out of the tent, squinting at
the sunrise.

I make my way to the stream and splash some of the frigid water on my face.
Leaning down, I take a drink. As I crouch by the water, I try to process
everything from last night. Louis said more words in an hour than I'd heard
him speak my whole life. I'm glad that he opened up to me, and I consider
returning the favor and coming out to him.

That discussion had been so intense, I've almost forgotten the events from
earlier, when he caught me spying on him. I guess he already knows, or at
least suspects.

I consider what this means. He's homosexual, he knows or suspects that I am
as well, and he remarked how I resembled the person he was in love with. He
confided in me his darkest secret. Does he want me?

And how do I feel about this anyway? He's my father's brother. He was there
when I was a child growing up. And now he's a fat old man.

But I'm getting old myself. 35 and I've never known the touch of a lover.
The thought of experiencing it for the first time with some stranger at a
raunchy club or a hook up from a website is never what I wanted. No, I want
a man who I know, who understands me. It's not sex that I want to
experience, it's making love. And who better could I make love to than the
man I've known and respected for years, who understands the pain I felt at
losing my father, even more than I did. Louis: not some sex-crazed rebel,
but a tender, masculine, independent man.

I imagine him kissing my father and feel myself getting hard. I've never
felt this kind of attraction to either of them before. I don't feel ashamed
or repulsed anymore, just vaguely sad. Sorrowful at a relationship that
could never be; hopeful that maybe Louis could learn to love again.

I return to the tent, slip back inside. After my walk in the brisk morning
air, it's nice to be in the cozy tent. I lay beside him, feeling his body
heat radiate against my skin, and imagine waking up to this every morning.
The thought makes me smile.

I prop myself up on my elbow, then slowly, gently, I caress his cheek,
grinning down at him. He starts to stir, then his eyes flutter open and
lock with mine. They soften and he lifts up his hand, placing it on my
shoulder. For a moment, I get cold feet. Then I decide to make my move.

I lean down slowly, without breaking our stare, until our eyes are inches
apart. He doesn't retract, so I make my move. Our lips brush, then connect.

For a while I don't move, just adjusting to the sensation. I'm not sure
what to do here, it's all so new to me.

He takes the initiative, unsealing his lips, and I follow along. Gently his
tongue enters my mouth, exploring me, wrapping around my teeth. He pulls me
down, drawing us closer together, mashing our faces together, and I find
myself crawling on top of him, straddling him as I push deeper into his
mouth. It's warm and wet, tasting vaguely of beer. I close my eyes and
inhale, simply enjoying the feeling of the kiss.

After a moment, I release and pull back. He stares up at me fondly, mouth
still agape. His dark brown eyes stare into mine longingly.

Then his brow furrows. "Jim? Why are we doing this?" He seems to jolt back
to reality.

"Because I want you, Uncle Louis. And I want to know if you want me."

"Jim... shouldn't you be fooling around with kids your own age? I mean, I'm
old enough now to be..." He trails off, reminded of who my father is.

I'm not sure what to say. He's right, in a way, but I try to picture a few
of my favorite porn stars and nothing resonates with me. There's only one
man that I want to be with right now, and I'm sitting on top of him.

"I'm not him," I say, surprising myself. "I don't care what people think or
say. Louis, if you want me to stay with you, I will stay with you."

"What your father and I did... it was wrong. Carl did the right thing. It
wasn't easy, but he did for you and Beth and your mother. This... this is
incest, Jim."

"It's love, Louis. You're telling me that after all this time, that's still
what you think? That it was wrong? That you have to be alone for the rest
of your life because you loved someone you weren't 'supposed' to?"

I swallow, holding back tears. I'm sad, I'm angry, I'm flustered. I realize
I've been yelling and I lower my voice. "Fuck that. If that's what
everybody else thinks, fuck 'em. Stop feeling guilty for being happy, and
just be happy for once."

He looks at me pleadingly. "Okay," is all he musters, his voice cracking.
He wanted to lose this fight. Relief washes over me, and I feel muscles
relax that I didn't know were tense.

He gingerly reaches to unclasp the sleeping bag and I shift out of the way
as he opens it. He's wearing only a pair of boxers.

His chest is exposed to me. It's dark and muscular like mine, but with a
layer of fat over top of it, and white wisps of hair leading down his
stomach. I run my hands along his fur, tracing the outline of his pecs. His
boner is struggling to make it out of the undersized shorts.

I pull off my shirt, exposing my smooth, flatter chest and get back on top
of him, pressing us together, feeling the heat pass between us. Our lips
lock again, more forcefully this time, and as he enters my mouth, I grind
my crotch against his. I feel him tremble beneath me in anticipation. My
hands wrap around him, caressing his back.

He sits up, forcing me back. He pushes me to lie down on my back and I
oblige. He unclasps my belt and unbuttons my jeans. I sigh as he pulls them
off my legs.

He reaches through the fly of my boxers and pulls out my stiff cock. I'm in
heaven, staring up into his eyes. I'll do anything for this man.

Then he moves out of my field of vision, lowering himself. I close my eyes
as I feel his wet mouth wrap around my cockhead. The sensation is
incredible. His beard tickles my balls as he expertly takes more of me into
his mouth, his tongue caressing the sensitive underside of my penis. I
shudder with pleasure.

"Stop," I call out, and he does as command, his head resurfacing from my
torso as he looks at me questionably. "I want to try yours too," I say.

He smiles and repositions himself to hover over me. He lowers his crotch
over me, his big belly resting gently across my chest as he resumes hold of
my cock. His springs out from his boxers, and I finally see magnificent
beast up close. My mouth is watering as I navigate it in.

It fills my mouth, stretching my jaw. I struggle to fit him inside me,
fighting my gag reflex. As I pull him slowly further in, my nose aligns
with his crotch, and I inhale a whiff of his sweaty, manly scent. With a
final lunge, I draw in the rest of his fat, veiny cock, burying my face in
his forest of white pubic hair. The aroma is intoxicating, combined with
the salty taste of his bulbous shaft. I pull back out, wrapping a hand
around the base of his shaft while I massage his head with my tongue. I
feel his guttural growl of pleasure as he does the same to me, and my eyes
roll back into my head. I've never experienced anything like this before,
and I already feel close.

I have an idea. I pull his cock from my mouth and wet my finger with
saliva. Then, wrapping my lips around his throbbing tool once again, I
trace the outline of his thick ass cheeks, working my finger towards his
hole. When I reach it and begin to slip it in, he pulls off of my cock.
"Yes!" he exclaims.

I start to push it in gingerly, my mouth still full of cock, and he rocks
back on it, impaling himself on my finger. "Aaaaahh," he sighs as I enter
him. After a few seconds, he returns to sucking me while continuing to fuck
himself on my finger.

This is all too much for me. Almost without warning, I boil over the edge.
My moan is muffled by the cock engorged in my mouth, but Louis is prepared.

I feel myself shoot the first volley of cum deep in the back of his throat.
He quickly bobs back as the second wave begins. At the same time, I feel
the cock in my mouth somehow swell up even larger and I pull back just as
his first spray of semen splatters on my tongue. I relish the salty flavor,
enraptured, digging my finger deeper into his asshole. Our loads are
synchronized now, and I feel my jizz erupt into his mouth as he floods mine
with the warm, viscous fluid. With my other hand, I reach up and squeeze
his balls playfully, hoping to milk even more cum from his engorged sack.
He releases my cock and shouts in surprise, and I'm rewarded with a shot
even bigger than the others. I feel cum dribbling out of my mouth and down
my chin, and now that he's pulled off of mine, my final eruption explodes
everywhere, showering my thighs and stomach, splattering his neck and big
furry chest.

We both lie there, gasping for air. He collapses atop of me and the weight
is tough but bearable. We both lie there, heaving, bathed in each other's
sweat and cum. I slowly pull my finger out of his twitching asshole and his
cock deflates in my mouth. I run my hands along his lower back, squeezing
his ass cheeks lightly.

After a few minutes, he gently pries us apart and rolls onto his back
beside me. We both just lie there breathing, no words exchanged.

I sit up, pull off my sweaty, cum-stained boxers, and lean in to kiss him.
Both of our faces are coated in sticky residue. After a moment, I break the
kiss, then exit the tent without bothering to dress.

Outside, the brisk air feels good against my sweaty body. I get the fire
going and work on brewing coffee. My hangover has subsided, thankfully, and
I dig some eggs out of the cooler to cook.

Uncle Louis shambles out of the tent, wearing an old and untied bathrobe,
his wonderful flaccid cock swinging as he walks. I hand him a steaming cup
of coffee and a plate of fried eggs. "Thank you," he mutters, sitting on
the folding chair.

I sit with my own plate and nurse my cup of joe, unable to erase the grin
from my face. He's grinning too.

I devour my eggs with an appetite I didn't know I had.

"The last time I had sex, you hadn't been born yet," he laughs.

I'm surprised. "You were never with anyone else? Even after Dad stopped
seeing you?"

"No sir."

"Well, that was my first time," I say proudly.

"Well then, fuck. You're a natural." He grins broadly, and I chuckle.

"Imagine what I'll be like after more practice," I retort.

I finish my coffee and walk down to the stream, Louis following behind me.
I hop into the frigid waters, bathing my sweaty skin with the fresh,
numbing flow. Louis watches from the bank and I splash him. He cries out
and leans in to splash back. I seize the opportunity and pull him in. He
tumbles in with a yelp.

We wrestle in the icy brook before falling into another passionate kiss,
arms wrapped around each other. I want the moment to last, but the water's
cold, so we get back to bathing. I wash his chest gently, then reach down,
cradling his balls. He smiles, guiding my hand up to his ass crack, and I
rinse it tenderly. We wade out of the creek, shivering in the cold. I pull
off his robe, exposing his beautiful body to the sunlight, and hang it on a
tree to dry.

We walk back to the fire naked and huddle by the flames to dry. The sun is
high in the sky now, and the air is heating up. I study him, admiring his
body basking in the sun. His skin is rough and leathery, his arms and
thighs thick with muscles like mine. His skin is like dark chocolate and
his arms, legs, chest, and abdomen are all coated in a thin layer of white
fur. When he sits, his chest folds over his rotund belly and his gut spills
out over his crotch. His face is pocked with rough scars. His penis is
surrounded by a thick, wiry bush that runs along the inside of his legs and
connects with his ass. His balls hang low, swinging between his muscled
thighs.

I'd seen my uncle a thousand times, but I've never seen him like this. I'm
overcome with lust. I approach his chair and kneel before him, taking him
into my mouth once again. He groans and I feel him beginning to swell
against my tongue. I feel his rough, calloused hands wrap around the back
of my smooth head and grip the back of my neck. He guides my head up and
down, slowly, allowing me time to toy with his foreskin. I relinquish
control and allow him to move me up and down the length of his shaft at his
own pace. I close my eyes and just enjoy the sensation of his engorged cock
filling my mouth.

After a time, he pulls me off of him. "Stand," he commands, and I get on my
feet. Still in the chair, he leans forward and pulls my stiff pecker into
the warm envelope of his mouth again, and I sigh. He doesn't do it for long
though. Instead, after a few seconds of lubricating my cock with his spit,
he gets out of the chair and bends down, straddling the chair, pointing his
ass at me.

"Fuck me," he implores.

I'm excited, but I want the moment to last, so I get on my knees instead
and bury my face in his ass. I dig my tongue in as deep as I can and he
groans. My goatee tickles his balls as I thrust my tongue deeper into his
pussy. I'm surprised at how much I enjoyed the taste; he smells musty, but
it is clean and almost seems to taste sweet. I grab his cheeks with my
hands and pull them apart so that I can burrow deeper, and he thrusts his
ass into me.

Once satisfied that he is properly lubed, I stand and guide my stiff cock
in.

It is incredible, otherworldly. His ass envelopes me in tightness and
warmth. As I push it in he sighs longingly and pushes back onto it. As he
swallows up the last inch of my shaft, we both groan with pleasure.

I pull back slowly, almost imperceptibly so, until I'm finally almost
completely out. Then I thrust it back in with sudden force, shoving as hard
as I can. He yells in surprise as I push into him all at once. I repeat it,
and he yelps again, but I can feel him push back on me, begging for more.
As I increase my pace, I reach down and grab his tits in my hands, finding
my way to his nipples. I find them and grab them, twisting. He's rocking
against my cock now, pounding me back as hard as I'm pounding him. "Stop,
stop," he gasps, and I relent.

He pulls off of me and I'm flooded with disappointment for a moment,
although I know he has a plan.

"Lie down," he commands, and I oblige, lying flat on the grass.

He spits onto his hand and smothers my cock with a fresh coat of lube. Then
he gets down, straddling atop me, and plunges back onto my aching bone. I
scream with delight as he takes my whole length at once and he throws his
head back in pleasure.

I lie there contentedly as he rocks, bobbing up and down, impaling himself
on my cock, fucking himself. I watch, fascinated, as his belly bounces up
and down and his low-hangers slap against my abdomen. His cock points
straight out, rock hard and twitching, while his hands are at his sides,
stabilizing him.

He quickens the pace and I'm just about to go over the edge when he cries
out. Without even touching his cock, he's erupting. A stream of cum shoots
onto my chest. Another shot launches from his cock just as he pushes the
rest of the way down my shaft, and it splatters violently against my chin.

"Carl!" He bellows out my father's name, and it sends me over the edge. I
begin unloading into his tight ass as another load spreads across my
abdomen and I lick up some of the cum dribbling down my chin.

He's screaming now, his whole body shaking. "No... Jim," he gasps
shakingly, and he locks eyes with me and I'm in love. My orgasm is slowing
down and somehow he is still going, another volley of jizz erupting from
him as he rides me. Suddenly he lies down on top of me and embraces me and
shoves his tongue in my mouth and he's still cumming, I feel the warm
liquid trying to escape from being trapped between our tightly held bodies,
building up pressure and streaming down my side. My dick is buried deep
inside his ass and his tongue is buried deep inside his mouth and our
bodies are contorted together and his whole body is convulsing as he
rockets more and more of his life-giving seed and bonding us together, and
I feel like we are one person, joined in passion, and I know now that I
don't ever want to be with anyone else, that I love him and need him and I
never want this to end.

And of course, it does. Finally he stops and we just hug each other and
bask in the warmth of the sunlight.

"I'm sorry that I... I'm sorry I said his name," he whispers.

"I hope that means that I live up to him," I reply, smiling.

"No. No, you're better than him." He locks eyes with me and I'm overcome
with emotion. "With Carl, I always felt like I was competing. Not with your
mother. With the world. We fooled around when we were kids and it was fun,
but when we got older... he was always ashamed of us. Scared someone would
find out."

"I don't care," I say confidently. "If it's you or the world, I'll take
you." I kiss his neck longingly. I pause, unsure of whether to say it so
soon, but it wins out. "I love you, Louis."

"I love you too, Jim."

He's my uncle but I'm in love with him, and I will spend every minute I can
with him.

We go camping every year.