Date: Wed, 15 Mar 2017 17:28:59 -0600
From: Mack Marek <mack.marek42@gmail.com>
Subject: Uncle Louis epilogue

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PART 1: SIXTEEN YEARS LATER

A lot has changed in sixteen years.

Land is cheap out here, and Louis and I bought an acre in cash, about an
hour out of town, not so far from the campsite where all this started. The
cabin is our own handiwork, the frame pieced together with backbreaking
effort, the logs soiled with our sweat and blood. We mostly keep to
ourselves, fed by the rifle and the spade nowadays. On occasion I head into
town to sell a chair or a cabinet I've been working on or a rabbit we
caught, and to pick up things here or there, but we take pride in our
self-sufficiency.

It took a while, but Jeffrey came to me to apologize for what he said. He's
a good man; I know that he only said what he said because he cares about
me, and I respect that. He ended up marrying my sister Beth, which I think
makes them the first interracial couple I've seen in this town as long as
I've been alive. I'm happy for them. In time I think the both of them came
to realize that what Louis and I have, it's not just some story of abuse or
lust.

They have two beautiful, tall twin girls, Hannah and Jasmine, sixteen now,
with stunning caramel skin. They could have been models, but those girls
have bigger dreams, Hannah to be a nurse and Jasmine interested in law.
Smart kids, but I have a feeling that my generation is the last of our
family to stick around in this town. Then they've Junior, who's thirteen
now, a short, scrawny boy with glasses who likes computers. I know the kids
pick on him in school, but I have a feeling he'll probably be our town's
first millionaire, so we'll see who gets the last laugh.

The last thing I want to do today is laugh though. It's raining, which
seems cliche, but it's true. Jeffrey and the kids stand somber in black,
Beth up next to me, sniffling, her tears mixing with raindrops. Today we
put our mother to rest.

I couldn't reconcile with her like with Beth; she never understood, not in
the decade and a half that Louis and I have been together. It hurts,
knowing that she went to the grave resenting us. This is something I've
come to accept, and this moment I've prepared for; still, I feel hollow
inside, feeling a real sense of permanence in our brokenness for the first
time.

Both of my parents are gone now, and I'm pinged with the reminder of my own
mortality, and especially of Louis'. I'm 51 now, my goatee silver, my
muscles softer than they used to be. I turn to him and look him over. At
73, he's taking care of himself best he can, but there are dark spots on
his skin and wrinkles under his eyes. But then our eyes lock, and he's as
beautiful as he was the first time we kissed.

I know that our time is limited, and I'm reminded that every day I have
with him is a gift to savor.

As the congregation disbands and we clamber into that ancient but reliable
truck, I lean in and kiss him slowly, not in a lusting way, but in a loving
one, and his hands gently work my shoulders.

When we get home, it's late afternoon, and I head out to chop wood while
Louis tends to the garden. It's cold and misty, but I work up a sweat, and
the labor keeps my mind off the darker thoughts. The sun is down by the
time I walk in the door, kicking off my boots and peeling off my grimy
gloves.

Louis is waiting for me on the bed, naked and smiling. I grin and approach
him, and I relax while he disrobes me, pulling off my sweaty garments. We
embrace, and the sensation of our chests touching is how I know I'm home,
that we are one body again.

I sit down on the bed and he knows what to do. He kneels before me as I
close my eyes and my cock is engulfed by his wonderful, moist mouth, and I
know this will only be for a moment but it feels like it could last
forever. Then, on cue, he stands and turns around, and I bury my face in
his sweet hole, drilling my tongue as deep as I can into his musty, sweet
pussy, while my hand milks his cock and I work his precum in under his
foreskin.

We're ready. I pivot him around to face me again, and he climbs onto the
bed, straddling me, squatting down. My bristling cock head presses against
his warm, lubricated hole, then it slips in, and I'm surrounded by that
familiar warmth again, locked together. We stab our tongues into each
other's mouths and I squeeze my arms around his midsection tightly, and
almost every part of our bodies are in contact. Then, tenderly, I lift his
body up, pulling him up and releasing him, pistoning the old man on my meat.

His body starts to quake and he digs his tongue into my mouth more
violently, and I feel a familiar wetness as his cock, sandwiched tightly
between our bellies, starts to go off. The feeling of his load spreading on
my skin is enough to drive me over the edge, and I empty my own in his
bowels.

My rhythm slows and eventually we rest, my penis softening still inside
him, and we continue to hold each other for a few minutes. I feel his
racing heart start to slow, his cum start to cool off.

I lean back slowly, carrying the both of us, until I'm lying flat on the
mattress with him on top of me. Then I roll to the side so that we're
beside each other, still locked in an embrace. My softened dick pops out of
him and we just lie in that position, facing each other, holding each other
tightly, and we fall asleep dirty, naked, and locked together.

PART 2: SIX YEARS LATER

Today is my birthday, the last day of the year. I'm as old today as Louis
was when we fell in love.

He's been gone about a year now. Passed in his sleep.

I'm still breathing somehow, living automatically. I know that life isn't
over for me, but it feels like it. I ache. I sleep a lot and eat little.

I'm heeding Beth's advice, moving back to town. I've been putting it off,
not wanting to leave the home we built together, but I've become a recluse,
almost forgotten how to talk.

I don't know what my future holds anymore. When you meet the person who
completes you, after they're gone you don't know how to feel complete
again. Part of you doesn't want to, the rest of you needs to.

The girls have moved out, going on to college, so I'm moving into their
room temporarily. Luckily I've never been a sentimental man and I have very
little to take with me.

I've finished unloading my few possessions and stored them away. It's late,
about midnight, and everyone's asleep. I'm sitting on a recliner in the
living room, nursing a bourbon and admiring the family Christmas tree
before it gets taken down. A strong, numbing buzz wraps me in warmth, and I
imagine the warmth is Louis against me. I pour another glass and lean back,
feeling the muscles release their tension.

The floor creaks, startling me. Junior walks in quietly. "Can't sleep
either?" he asks, and hops onto the sofa.

"Nah," I answer. "Just reliving memories." This is the house I grew up in,
the house that's belonged to my family for at least a century.

We sit in silence for a bit, and I'm contentedly drunk.

"Why did you and Louis live together?" he blurts out. "I'm sorry," he adds
on.

I'm surprised. "Your mom never told you?"

"No. I mean, I know he was her uncle. But she doesn't talk about him much.
Did you like, take care of him or something?"

I take a better look at Junior, my eyes adjusting to the dim light. He's
changed since he was a kid. Still not very tall, but fuller, with a
handsome face. I appreciate his frankness. I'm tired of people treating me
like I'm fragile.

I take my time to answer. Finally, I work out the words.

"Yeah, I took care of him. He took care of me too. I know this sounds
strange... but Louis and I were, well, together."

I watch his eyes as he processes this information. He seems confused for a
moment.

"Together -- together as in a couple?"

"Yes. For twenty-one years."

Junior watches me inquisitively, waiting for me to elaborate.

"For a long time, people didn't understand. Someone even burnt his house
down." Junior leans forward, frowning. "Your father didn't understand
either. But they came around eventually."

"I didn't even know you were gay..." he says quietly. "I don't know anyone
else who is."

I look at him questioningly, but he doesn't say anything else, so I don't
press.

"I didn't really know Louis when I was growing up, but I went on a camping
trip with him shortly after my father died and... well, it just happened."

My head is swimming. I've had too much to drink, and memories of the camp
are flooding in. It's hard to concentrate; I feel lost in the past. I'm
vaguely aware that Junior has moved closer.

"Who was the top?" he asks, and I'm too inebriated to realize how
inappropriate a question that is.

"I was, I guess," I say.

I'm remembering back to our first time. Waking him in the tent. Convincing
him that it was okay. Our gentle kiss. That very first time I saw my
manhood disappear into his mouth. The first time I tasted his sweet, salty
cum, filling my mouth while my finger was buried in his hole, him lying on
top of me as I fed him my own. The first time I was inside him, outside by
the campfire in the glowing sun, after we bathed in the stream. Our bodies
fused together by his seed.

My eyes flutter open as I climax and I stifle a moan. Louis is kneeling
before me, my cock out of my fly and buried in his mouth. I grab his head
with both hands and force him down my shaft, holding him there as I eject
more down his throat.

As my orgasm subsides, my vision sharpens and Louis becomes Junior.

"What the hell is going on?" I stammer.

He looks up at me. "You didn't like it?"

"I -- I --" Shit. What have I done?

"What are you doing?" I whisper. "This is insane! You're what, a third of
my age? I'm your goddamn --"

I stop, realizing I was about to say "uncle." I look down at him, clearly
concerned about my feelings but also drunk on his first time tasting cum.

"What if your mother walked in? Jesus, kid..." I trail off. He's standing
before me with his cock out, and it's a damn clone of Louis': thick, veiny,
uncircumcised, dripping.

I forget about everything as my lips wrap around the bulbous head. Closing
my eyes, the world melts away and I'm with Louis again, pleasuring him, a
playful tug on his balls, a finger buried in his ass, patiently awaiting my
reward, his seed. I relish the seed of my nephew, just as he relished the
seed of his Uncle Jim, just as Jim relished the seed of his Uncle Louis,
just as Louis relished the seed of his brother Carl.

Maybe this tradition will live on in this family forever. I hope one day
Junior, an old, tired man like me, will gift his nephew with the love and
passion that I was given once.