Josh - Creepy "Uncle" Nevel

My father was a Marine, mother was a stay-at-home mom. I have two older sisters. My father joined the service just after Vietnam ended. He’s since climbed the ranks, and as a military brat, I’ve traveled the continental US and been the new kid in school more than thirteen times since kindergarten because of his transfers. 

I was raised as a military son. I have at least 27 model military vehicles in my bedroom. I only own clothes purchased at the PX, so they are military green, brown, and camo, from jackets to underwear. Any new friends I made were boys my age, also raised on base by military dads, and we played “combat” because that was the only thing we knew how to do. Using the hand signals our dads taught us, we snuck around the neighborhoods as stealthily as possible, with no goal other than not to be seen. It would eventually end up in some kind of wrestling, dares, bets, or other stuff that would lead to pushups or pullups as a form of competition or punishment. As we got older, those punishments would become more like hazing, where you would end up in your underwear in a semi-public setting. None of it ever bothered me. It was only arousing in the way that seeing anyone in their underwear was arousing. 

By the spring of ‘94, I had just turned 18 and was debating between college and enlisting. My sisters had already gone off to college, and both had suggested I “get out” of the house and avoid military service. They always thought I was too small and too weak for duty and that I needed some “real life experience” outside the military life I grew up in.

After classes on Friday, I went out with some of my friends to catch a screening of Ace Ventura: Pet Detective, and then we went down to the park and crushed a case of beer between the six of us. So I didn’t get home until after 2300 hours. My parents were already asleep for at least an hour by this point, if not more, so I snuck in, took a shower, brushed my teeth, and slipped into a pair of military green briefs to get ready for bed.

I was feeling a little drunk from the three beers I drank, and went to the kitchen for water. I pressed a glass against the front of the fridge, where it dispensed water, and heard a bedroom door open down the hall. I was confused, though. That room was my sisters’ room, my parents' room was on the other side of the house. My sisters have seen me run around the house in just my briefs most of my life, so I didn’t really care that I was in just my underwear. I was curious, though, since it couldn’t be either of my sisters, because they didn’t have spring break for another two weeks and shouldn’t be home. My parents do use that room as a guest room if family or their friends come to stay with us, so I was a little nervous. More so that they would know I was drunk, less about my body. I’m pretty proud of my body.

The person who came down the hall and into the light was Uncle Nevel, or as my sisters call him, “Creepy Uncle Nevel.” Nobody really liked him. He wasn’t our actual uncle; he earned the title because he and my dad were deployed together and have been friends ever since. He’s been around my entire life. He pops into our lives about once a year, sometimes every other year, for about a week, and then disappears. He walked toward me, wearing a pair of white briefs and nothing else. Clutching an empty whiskey tumbler, his muscles on full display, he walked up to me and grinned. In a very gravelly voice, clearly drunk, he said, “Look who finally came home.”

I stepped back from the fridge and sipped my water. Then I tried my best to sound sober, “Uncle Nevel, I didn’t know you were visiting.”

He pulled the cork from a bottle of whiskey on the counter and poured a knuckle into his glass before recorking it and taking a sip with a dramatic, “Ahhh.” He held out the glass for me to take a sip, something he’s known for. Usually, my parents were around, and I’d say ‘no thanks,’ but I was three beers deep and had no care in the world. I took it and took a big sip, swallowing it down with all the burn and no reaction… as a man would. He put his hand on my bare shoulder and gave it a rub, looking up and down my body and grinning, “Damn Josh… puberty did you well.” He turned me half a turn and looked at my backside, then turned me back toward him, “Look at all the muscle you put on since I last saw you.” Then he did something I didn’t expect: his free hand reached for the waistband of my underwear and pulled it away from my skin so he could look in and said, “I’ll bet you finally got hair on your balls, too.”

That made me blush, and just knowing someone was looking at my junk sent blood rushing to my dick. “I’ve had hair on my balls for years,” I said defensively, then took another big sip from the glass I was holding, hoping my body didn’t betray me and get fully aroused from the childish glance Uncle Nevel took at my junk. Or, at least I hoped that was the reason. I’d mostly become desensitized to male nudity over the years. Playing in team sports since I was a small kid, taking showers in the locker rooms from 6th grade through 12th grade, sleepovers that involve stupid dares where guys strip down, it all kind of made it easy to not get excited about male nudity. I knew at this point that I wasn’t particularly excited about female nudity either, but I was years away from truly questioning what that meant.

“Oh yeah?” He asked with a grin, then he pulled the waistband away from my waist again, this time taking a longer look. “Oh yeah, look at you. You got your daddy’s equipment, huh?” I blushed and felt the unstoppable rush of blood heading toward my junk, so I pulled my hips back an inch, and his finger lost its grip on my waistband, causing it to snap back. I couldn’t help but glance down his body to his bulge. He wasn’t aroused, but it filled out his basket way more than mine did. His briefs seemed a little more worn than mine; the fabric sort of stretched around his equipment instead of holding it up as mine do. Even in the dim light of the kitchen stove, I could clearly see his two balls, shaft, and circumcised head. “Go ahead… take a look,” he said, seeing my eyes fixed on his package.

My eyes jumped to his, and my heart started pounding, as if he'd just read my mind or found out my deepest, darkest secret. The voice in the back of my head told me not to look, and I listened.

“Take a peek, see what a real man looks like,” he insisted after seeing my hesitation. This time, I ignored the voice, letting curiosity get the better of me, reached out, and snuck three fingers into his gold-and-blue pin-striped waistband, then pulled it away from his waist. Leaning forward, and almost falling into him because my balance was way off, I looked straight down into the pouch and saw a dark bush of wiry hair, a thick dick that looked to be as big as mine is when it’s hard but he was clearly soft, and as I pulled the waistband further out I could see part of his ball sack, which looked to be holding jumbo eggs like we buy at the grocery store. His hand came to my wrist and slowly pulled me closer to him, the waistband closing against his skin as he did, and I still didn’t have the good sense to let go. He chuckled, “I said just a peek, Josh. Anything more than that is homo fag shit.” I dropped the waistband from my fingers instantly, but he was still holding my wrist. “You got a little homo in you…don’t you?”

I started panicking. I felt like he could read my mind somehow, and lying didn’t feel like an option. “I…I don’t know. I mean…I’ve never…” I started to say.

“Never what?” He asked quickly.

“Never really thought about it?” It came out as a question when it should’ve been a flat-out denial.

He chuckled again, then cocked his head a little, picking up his drink and taking a sip before saying with certainty, “I think you have.” My breath caught in my throat. “I’ll bet you pull your little pecker every night thinking about what it feels like to touch another man…don’t ya?”

I started shaking with nerves. “No, never,” I said weakly.

“Don’t lie to me, Josh. I’ve known it for years that you’ve got some fag in you. Maybe not a full homo, but…look at you, you’re hard just thinking about my dick, aren’t ya?” His voice was a little louder than I was comfortable with for this conversation. His eyes drifted down to my underwear. To my horror, my dick was harder than ever, straining the cotton fabric, and a small, dark, wet spot was forming where the tip of my 4.5” circumcised dick was pumping precum into the double-layered pouch of my briefs.

“I…umm,” was all I could say.

“You still a virgin, Josh?” He asked, his rough voice softening a little. I nodded nervously. He took another swig from his glass, finishing the contents. Then he dropped my hand and picked up the whiskey bottle, pulling the cork out, a sound that seemed so loud I was suddenly concerned my Dad would come out and…I don’t know, ground me for life for even thinking I might have a little fag in me? He poured two knuckles into the glass, then recorked it as he said, “Tell you what. You be honest with me, and I won’t tell your old man about anything tonight, I won’t tell him you came home drunk, I won’t tell him your little pecker got hard when you looked at my dick, I won’t tell him you drank his whiskey, not a word. Sound fair?”

My stomach sank. I hadn’t even thought about how much trouble I could be in, and my Dad had zero tolerance for underage drinking, and even less tolerance for homo stuff. I nodded and mumbled something that sounded like, “ok.” He handed me his glass, and I quickly took a gulp. The burn was gone, along with the rest of my senses, but it helped calm my nerves.

“Do you think you’re a little faggy, Josh?” He asked, his tone a little more friendly.

I took another gulp, then weakly said, “I don’t think so.”

“Be honest, now.” He insisted.

“I…don’t know. I never thought about it, honest to God,” I said, believing it myself.

“Think about it now, Josh.” His hand reached out, and his finger pressed down on my dick until it slipped off the tip, and my dick flung back up like a diving board. “You wouldn’t be hard right now if you didn’t have homo tendencies, would ya?”

He had a point, and his burning stare made me feel like I had to speak. “I…um…I don’t know, I guess…maybe.” I felt ashamed for even thinking it.

He took a sip, then said, “You guess? Maybe?” He chuckled, “I’ll bet you want to do more than stare at my cock, don’t ya?” His tone was a bit playful, but my heart was pounding. I didn’t know what to say, or do. He was always playing mind games with me and my sisters as kids and I couldn’t tell if this was one of them. At the same time, the mention of having looked at his cock and my eyes were suddenly glued on his package again. “Why don’t you reach on in there and grab a fistful of Uncle Nevel’s cock… see what that does for you,” He offered. Then added, “I’m not a fag, but if you give it a few squeezes, it’ll get hard for you to play with.” I couldn’t tell if he was serious, so I just stood there, as still as I could, but between my nervous energy and the alcohol in my system, I’m pretty sure I was wobbling a little. “I’m not going to tell you again, Josh. Reach on in there,” he insisted.

This time, I had no doubt what he was offering me, and…it was almost like an out-of-body experience. I felt my left hand grab the waistband of his underwear, pulling away from his body as my right hand went straight into the pouch and my fist wrapped around his cock. It was warm and spongy. Kind of like a water balloon, but shaped like a dick.

He let out a heavy breath, then said, “That’s it.” I squeezed it again “Mmm…you like the way it feels in your hand?” He asked. I nodded. “Yeah…you do, look at your little pecker,” he pointed at my dick in my briefs. “I think you love it,” he chuckled. “Go ahead and pull it out, get it hard and feel a real man's cock.” He suggested.

I did as he said. I yanked his underwear down with my left hand and hauled out his cock with my right hand, his balls dangling in the air as my hand began to tug on his meat from underneath. Holding it as if I had just slid my hand off my dick and onto his. It only took a few tugs for it to start swelling in my hand, stretching to be about 7” long and thick enough that my middle finger and thumb couldn’t wrap around it and touch. It was similar to mine in a few ways, color for one, but it felt similar and reacted similarly. The big difference was his size, and it curved out and up, whereas mine just stuck straight out. As he got harder, it was difficult for me to stroke him because of his upward curve; I almost had to break my wrist or his dick to make that work, and I stopped.

“It’s big, huh?” He grinned.

I could barely get the words out, “Um…yeah.”

“Looks like you’re real hard, Josh,” he put a finger on my underwear, tracing the outline of my hard dick. “I think it’s safe to say you like it, don’t you?” He asked.

I nervously nodded, terrified to look him in the eyes. Not that I could stop looking at his hard dick. I’d never seen a dick hard outside of a porno before, and here I was holding it in my hand.

“Why don’t you go ahead and give it a taste.” He suggested.

Still haphazardly holding his dick, my eyes shot up to his, “What?” I frowned, as if that was an obvious land mine. I’m not stupid. My buddies joke about failing a challenge and the result being having to suck the winner's dick all the time, but that never actually happened. It was the ultimate punishment for the loser, but it was definitely something we all kind of wanted, but would never actually make the other go through with it, because we knew that was reserved for women. It was ‘women’s work.’

“Did I stutter?” He shot back in a tone that was a little too loud for my comfort and very much something he picked up in boot camp. It made me flinch, and my heart started racing even faster.

I licked my lips and gave his dick another tug, but I had to clarify, “You want me to…lick your dick?”

He took a sip of his whiskey. He was clearly drunk, but so was I, so I didn’t care. “Josh, I want you to lick my dick…for you.” He grinned and shrugged, “I’m battle-trained and tested for queer activities, so there’s no better person to learn from than me.”

I mulled it over in my head for a second, but then he said, “It’s not going to suck itself.” So I dropped to my knees, right there on the linoleum kitchen floor, and stared down his one-eyed snake. He put his hand on the back of my buzz cut head and pulled me in until his head pressed against my closed lips. “Open,” he whispered. I did as I was told and opened my mouth as wide as I possibly could. I’d never had a blow job before, only seen it once in a porno, so I had no clue what I was doing. His cock went into my mouth and hit the back of my throat, gagging me instantly. He let me pull off for a second, then pulled me back in, “Don’t let your teeth touch it, use your lips and tongue,” he instructed. My mouth filled quickly with saliva. I couldn’t really taste anything at first. It actually tasted as if he showered recently, clean and a hint of Irish Spring soap. I didn’t really know what to do. I thought sucking dick was like sucking it like a straw. 

“Watch your teeth,” he said, holding my head with his free hand and sipping his whiskey with the other hand. I could feel spit dripping down my chin, and the upward curve of his dick kept trying to gag me, but he didn’t seem to care. He just kept letting out little grunts and whispering, “Oh yeah.” Adding the occasional tip, like “use your tongue,” or another warning not to use my teeth.

After a few minutes, he pulled his dick out of my mouth, a string of saliva traveling a few inches from my lips connected to his cock like a string before snapping and dripping down my chin. I tried to wipe my face off, and the tears I didn’t realize dripped from my eyes. He held a hand on my shoulder, massaging my trap as he posed the question, “How did that taste?”

I looked up at him, feeling the effects of the alcohol really hitting me. I smacked my lips together, then swallowed the accumulated spit and precum in my mouth. “Umm…ok, I guess.”

He chuckled, offering me a sip of his drink to wash it down. “Ok, you guess. Well…your little pecker is still hard, Josh.” He pointed out as I took a big gulp. I nodded and caught my breath as I handed him back the glass. “You know what I think?” He asked, and I shook my head ‘no.’ “I think you’re a little more faggy than you let on, aren’t you?”

I shrugged. Having now sucked a dick for the first time, and not vomiting like my friends act as though any heterosexual guy would’ve in that situation, I guess I have to be a little queer. I didn’t hate it after all. Plus, my dick is still really hard, I can’t deny that.

“Get up,” he said.

I stood up, a little more wobbly than before. The room felt like it was slowly tilting ten degrees in one direction, then, when I compensated, it would tilt ten degrees in the other direction, throwing me off. It was kinda funny and made me grin.

Uncle Nevel reached out and hooked his finger in my underwear again, pulling it toward him, and looked at my dick. “Yup, you’re hard as a fuckin’ rock. You really enjoyed suckin’ my dick, didn’t you?”

I shrugged, “I guess…I didn’t hate it.”

He grinned, took a step forward, leaned his head over my shoulder, and his hand pulled my underwear away from my waist on my backside. With his head so close to mine, I heard him let out a satisfied, “Mmmm,” before he let the waistband snap back. Then he palmed my ass from outside my briefs as he said, “I’ll bet this ass has never been fucked, huh?”

My heart started racing again. I shook my head ‘no.’ “I…I’m a virgin,” I reminded him. He slipped his hand into the back of my underwear, letting his fingers slide up and down my crack, right over my hole. I had never played with my ass or even thought about it before, but the rough finger sliding over my tight pucker sent sexual shivers into my body, and I couldn’t help but enjoy it. He pushed his dry finger into my hole, and I let out a groan of discomfort. His other arm wrapped around my back, pulling me to his slightly furry chest. When he stopped pushing in, he just wiggled his finger, and that kinda felt good. What really turned me on was his hard dick rubbing against my abs, pulsing as he rocked his hips into me and held me tight to his warm body.

“I think we need to break you in. See if you’re a true homo or not,” he suggested, wiggling his finger even more.

“I don’t…” I started, but couldn’t think of how to finish that sentence.

“You don’t know if you do until you try it,” he finished the thought for me.

My heart was beating so fast and hard, I’m sure he could feel it through my chest. “I’m not a fag,” I decided to say.

“Hmmm…” he hummed in my ear, his finger pulling on my hole. “I think you are. Look how hard you are with my finger in your ass.”

“Yeah…but…” I started.

“And you liked sucking my dick, didn’t you?” He asked.

His finger in my ass was starting to feel really good, and my memory of sucking his dick was glazing over with only the fun parts. What I really enjoyed was giving him pleasure, but I couldn’t articulate that in this state, so I just, in a breathy voice, “Yeah.”

“Mmmm….good. Tell you what,” he pulled his finger from my ass, and his hand out of my underwear. “Why don’t you go to your room,” he took a sip of his drink, “lay down on the bed, on your stomach,” he hooked a finger in my waistband and let it snap back, “take these off, and I’ll be in in a few minutes to give you what you want.”

I swallowed hard. “What…umm, what’s that?”

He grabbed his cock, giving it a few strokes, “I’m gonna put my cock in your ass, let you feel a real man inside you, and see how much of a fag you really are.”

I stepped back a half step, “Oh…I, I don’t want to do…I don’t think we…I mean…ummm, I’m not a fag, man.” I crossed my arms awkwardly, then put them on my hips nervously.

He finished his drink, then set the glass on the counter. Placed a hand on each of my shoulders, rubbing slightly. “I’m going to pour myself one more glass. Then I’m going to go get my stuff from my duffel, and I’m coming into your room.” He rubbed my shoulders and made sure I was paying attention. “I’m going to do you a favor and…help you figure this out. No more of this ‘maybe’ bullshit. Ok. You’re either a fag or you’re not. You’d rather learn from Uncle Nevel than some homo stranger, right?”

I thought about it for a second and nodded ‘yes.’

“Good. Now go to your room, get in your bed, take these off,” he tugged at the elastic leg hole of my briefs, “and wait for me on your stomach. Understand?”

I nodded, “I understand, but…”

“Look, I’m doing you a favor,” he held my shoulders at a distance, then reached for his dick, shaking it at me. “I don’t give this to just any fag on the street, understand?”

I nodded, unsure how to react to any of this.

“Good,” he let go of my shoulders, tucking his dick and balls back into his briefs. Then he opened the cork on the whiskey, looking at the glass as he steadied the bottle so as not to spill any as he poured. “If you really don’t want me to help you figure this fag shit out, and you want some homo to fuck you off the street, that’s fine by me. Just keep your undies on and go to sleep. I’m not going to force you to do anything you don’t want to do, but if you want it, do as I say, and I’ll help you out.” He put the cork back in the bottle. Having poured himself a little more than two knuckles this time. “You understand?” He asked, as I stood there, frozen.

I nodded ‘yes.’

“Good. Go get ready for me. I’m going to finish this and get my stuff, then I’ll come to your room.” He took a sip and leaned against the counter with his back to it. Watching me as I slowly walked down the hall to my room.

I closed the door. The room was spinning. I didn’t turn on the light. I have a fish tank against the wall furthest from my bed that lets out enough light for me to see, and I don’t want to see Uncle Nevel…I don’t think. I got into bed, under the covers. Lying on my back at first, but my dick was getting hard again as I thought about Nevel’s dick in my mouth. How hard he was, how big he is, how he tasted. I rolled onto my stomach, grinding my dick into the mattress, then I spread my legs wide like a butterfly, feeling my muscles stretch as I slowly lowered my crotch back down to the mattress, rocking my ass up into the air until my legs spread flat and my cock was hard in my undewear gently humping into the mattress as I stretched my arms forward and clutched my pillow tight to my face. 

Would it feel good to get fucked? Would I ever get another chance to find out? Uncle Nevel is right; I wouldn’t want some homo off the street showing me this. I’d much prefer someone I know and trust. How bad can it be? Gay guys do it all the time, the fucking love it, right?

I heard footsteps down the hallway, stopping at my sisters’ room. Then I heard the door open and close.

I relaxed onto the mattress, my hard dick begging to be set free and jerked off. I’ve never felt so horny in my life.

This is crazy, right? I should keep my underwear on and pretend I’m asleep if he comes in. What if he doesn’t come in? What if he was just messing with me because he thinks I’m a fag?

I felt my stomach sink at the thought. My head was spinning, and I felt like I was about to pass out.

What if Uncle Nevel does come in here? What if he’s fucking with me, and he wants to find me in here naked, waiting for him, then he’ll know I’m a homo because I wanted him to…fuck me? What if he comes in here and finds me with my underwear still on? Would he be mad? He’s been in there a while. Did he go to sleep?

I rolled onto my back, slipping my hand into my underwear and gripping my dick. I started stroking myself, just a few good strokes were quickly getting me close to having an orgasm, my horniness triggering thoughts about how good it might feel to have a guy fuck me. What if it does feel good and I pass up this chance to feel it? Even if I let him do it, it doesn’t make me a homo, right? I could hate it, that would definitely mean I’m straight. I hooked my thumbs in the waistband of my briefs and started pushing them halfway down my thighs. My cock sprang free, and I stopped pushing them down. Maybe I can have my underwear half off and pretend to be asleep if he comes in. That way, if it was a trick, I could say I was jerking off and fell asleep; that I wasn’t presenting myself for him like he told me to.

I lay there going back and forth, pulling my underwear up and pushing them back down, taking them off, then pulling them on quickly several times. Then I heard the door to the other room open. I froze, my heart started pounding. This is it, it’s now or never. I heard steps in the hall, and I quickly rolled onto my stomach, shoving my briefs down in the back just far enough to expose my ass. Then I panicked again and rolled onto my side as I heard a hand on the doorknob. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. My heart was racing, the room spinning. I had my eyes closed, unsure if I looked like I was asleep or not.

The door closed, and I heard him walk toward me quietly. I heard the sound of a whiskey glass placed on the desk next to my bed, along with something that sounded like a leather sack. I felt him put a knee on my bed, the mattress giving in to his weight, then he whipped the blanket off of me, exposing my nearly naked body to the cool air. I waited for an excruciating minute for him to decide if I wanted it or not, if I had followed orders or not. Then I felt him get off the bed, and that pit in my stomach grew. Was he leaving? Should I tell him I want it? Do I want it? Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Then I heard him slide his underwear down his ass, his cock slapping his lower abdomen as the cotton slipped down his hairy legs. His knee came back to the bed, and a warm hand started running up and down my back. I felt my heart start pounding again, my dick was getting hard, and…I…I think I want this. When his hand traveled down my back a third time, I pretended to finish rolling onto my stomach, keeping my head turned away from him as I faked a ‘sleep moan’ and lay flat on my stomach.

He reached over, grabbing my underwear and yanking them the rest of the way down my legs. Then he straddled my legs, and I pretended to wake up, “Mmmph…what’s going on?” I grumbled.

He reached for his sack on my desk and pulled something out. I heard the jar open and close in a second, then set on the desk. Then I felt a very cold, thick, greasy cream smear on my ass crack. “You know what’s going on,” he said, as a finger pushed into my pucker.

“Ahhh…shit,” I grunted, clutching the pillow. “That stings,” I said into the pillow.

“That’s just the lube. Trust me, you don’t want this to happen without it.” He pushed a second finger into my hole.

“Nnngh…shit,” I grunted into the pillow. This definitely doesn’t feel as good as I hoped it would. Actually…the grease definitely helps, and while it doesn’t actually hurt, it just feels like I need to poop…which is not sexy.

He pulled his fingers out of me, and I could hear him smearing the grease on his dick; that familiar rhythmic squishing sound of a dick being stroked was the only sound in the room. I clutched the pillow, lying as still as possible, wondering if it’s too late to turn back or if I should just continue. Then he shifted his weight and pulled something from the sack. He shook it, then opened it with a puff of air, and I heard him inhale deeply, then exhaled with a “Mmm.” Then he did it again before I heard him screw the cap back on whatever it was. He adjusted himself on my upper thighs, and started stroking his slicked up dick up and down my crack, the head breazing over my hole. That actually felt really good, and I couldn’t help but let out the softest moan into the pillow as I relaxed. I had hoped his dick would feel better than his fingers, but that soft skin against mine was way better than the sandpaper feeling of his calloused fingers.

He stroked himself, wiggling the head on my hole for a long few minutes, and in my head, I wasn’t sure if this was it. Is this anal sex? This isn’t so bad, it feels pretty good actually. My dick was hard, and when he would thrust his dick through my crack like a hot dog, putting all his weight on me, it would force my cock into the mattress, and I could feel a pool of precum smearing between my belly and the sheets because it felt that good.

He lay his body flat on mine and humped into me for a few minutes, just grinding and grunting, breathing his cigarette and whiskey breath on my neck, when he whispered, “Are you ready?” A question that confused me. I didn’t have much time to think about it, though. He wrapped his arms around my shoulders, his head next to mine, and brought a little bottle to his nose and inhaled deeply. Then did it a second time. Then he put it under my nose, putting a finger on one of my nostrils and said, “Breathe deep.” I did as I was told. The smell was horrible, but the instant head rush almost made me pass out. The room was spinning, my heart was racing, I felt so relaxed but so horny, then he put the bottle under my other nostril, pinching off the open one, and said, “Again, deeper this time and hold it.” I did as I was told as he capped the bottle and left it on the mattress next to my pillow. His left arm came around my chest, my neck in the elbow, as he reached and held onto my shoulder. His right hand shifted down to his dick as his hips pulled back from my ass. His cock suddenly went from being a hot dog in my buns to being a spear, tracing my crack until he found my pucker and started adding so much pressure I couldn’t help but breathe out and hiss. “Just relax,” he grumbled, pushing harder.

My head was spinning, but the pressure on my hole felt like he was trying to stab me. I grunted and clenched my hole, almost shouting into the pillow, “It’s too big, ahhh….fuck, it’s not going to go in.”

He just said, “Trust me, it will. Stop clenching, and it’ll go in.” He pushed even harder, and the head, along with another inch of his dick, popped into my hole. The pain was excruciating, and instantly shot into my guts. I didn’t know if I should cry or scream, but he was holding me tight and whispered in my ear, “Shhh….shhh…shhh, just breathe.”

With a very strained voice, and pushing my right hand backward in a weak attempt to push his hip off of me, I said, “Shit…it hurts, ungh….it’s way too big,” I grunted.

“Just relax,” he said, pushing a little deeper. I could feel my hole being stretched around the cock that was in my mouth about thirty minutes ago. I thought that was tough, but this was way too much.

“Ungh…fuck, Nevel, I can’t….” I hissed into the pillow. Trying not to sound like a bitch. I was always raised that men take pain and use it to their advantage, but this was a pain I’ve never experienced before. The feeling of being penetrated by his dick was not what I expected at all. It burned, it felt like I was being ripped open, the shooting pain into my guts was like being bruised instantly in the worst possible way, but he kept pushing deeper, and his dick was so hard and so hot that my hole couldn’t stop him despite the natural instinct to clench around him.

“Just relax, Josh,” he breathed into my ear. “Mmm…I’m already inside you…the hard part is over,” he grunted as he rocked his hips so his dick pushed deeper.

I realized he was right, it wasn’t getting worse as he got deeper, and the longer he was inside me, the less it hurt. This isn’t anywhere in the realm of pleasure I imagined this would be. I don’t know how the gays could possibly enjoy this as the receiver; maybe for him, it feels good. I felt him tighten his left arm around me as his right arm shoved under my waist to hold me even tighter. He slowly pulled an inch of his dick out, then I felt his leg muscles flex around my legs, and his hips shoved his dick two or three inches deeper into me as he grunted in my ear. I’ve seen guys fuck in pornos; this wasn’t fucking, I don’t think. This was slow, one thrust every ten seconds, grunting with each pump of his hips as if it was the most amazing feeling in the world for him. He would thrust a little deeper into me each time, and each time he’d grunt and add an “oh yeah.” Thrust, “fuck that’s good.” Thrust, “so tight, Josh.”

I hadn’t realized it until he thrust deep into me and I heard his hips clap against my ass, that he was fully inside me. I also hadn’t realized it had stopped hurting until I found myself grinding my dick, which was hard again, into the mattress every time he thrust into me. He pointed it out to me, and I felt embarrassed. “That’s it, Josh, take it like a man. You are really enjoying it, aren’t you?”

I didn’t even think and instantly responded with an “Mmm…yeah.” Which only seemed to turn him on even more. His thrusting didn’t get any faster, but each thrust was coming in about two-second intervals with a clap of my ass and his hips loud enough that it made me nervous it could be heard outside of the room. I didn’t care, though. Uncle Nevel was right; this did feel good.

“I knew you were a little fag, you are taking it so well. You’re not even fighting it anymore. God, this ass is so tight, Josh,” he mumbled into my ear.

It was feeling good, and I never thought something so gross as having a guy stick his dick in my ass could feel so good, but…I don’t want it to stop. “Fuck,” I moaned into the pillow as his curved cock hit deep into my guts. I tried to reach for my cock, but his arm around my waist was in the way.

As if reading my mind, he asked, “You want to play with your little dick?”

“Mmm-hmmm,” I moaned and nodded into the pillow as the next stroke of his dick bottomed out inside me.

He gave me another slow, deep stroke and pushed himself up off me. “Ok, I’m getting close too.” He pulled out of my ass completely, leaving me instantly wanting him back inside me. “Roll over,” he said.

I quickly flopped over onto my back. He adjusted himself between my legs, and I could see him for the first time since he entered my room. His chisled body, partially covered in tattoos and body hair, looked so rugged, like the kind of Brawny man women fawn over. He grabbed my nearly hairless legs, lifting them up and spreading them wide, putting my left ankle on his shoulder, and he reached for his shiny, lubed cock. That’s when it hit me, and I had an instant, gut-wrenching realization, “You’re not wearing a condom?” 

He shifted his weight so he was even closer and pointed his thick cock at my hole. He landed the tip right on my hole. “Those are so women don’t get pregnant, little homos like you don’t get pregnant,” he said, shoving hard.

“Ahhh…ngh…” I grunted. The reentry was painful, but not nearly as bad as the original penetration. “Fuck,” I hissed as I felt him slide all seven inches in with no mercy. “Wait…ngh…what about…”

“Relax,” He chuckled. “I’ve been pumping in you raw for a while now, so it’s way too late to worry about that,” he said, grabbing the little bottle. He put it under his nose and inhaled, then the other side. Then he brought it to my nose and said, “Breathe really deep,” and I did. The rush was instant and more intense now that his raw cock was deep inside me. Then he moved the bottle to the other nostril, and I instinctively did it again. “Hold it,” he said, capping the bottle.

I held it as long as I could, but when he pulled his dick most of the way out and shoved it all the way in, the air just came out naturally in a huff. The rush was intense, washing over me like a blanket of relaxation. His cock started slowly sliding all the way in and most of the way out in a rhythm that felt so good. His upward curve was hitting different in this position; it felt like each stroke was somehow massaging the inside of my dick, like the best masturbation I’ve ever felt. I reached for my cock and started stroking furiously.

“That’s it, Josh. You like that, don’t you?” He asked.

I nodded, covering my face with my left arm in shame. It felt so good. Uncle Nevel had his raw dick pumping into me, and it felt so good I was about to cum because of it. Like a little fag, I was about to cum from getting fucked by a real man. He continued pumping into me, getting a little faster, and a little faster. I was pounding my cock, spreading my knees wide, and lifting my ass higher off the bed so I could get him even deeper into me. “It feels…mmmm…so good,” I whimpered into my arm as my entire body flexed and contracted, building up my orgasm.

He grunted with his next thrust, “Your ass is begging me for this,” he mumbled between thrusts.

I felt my hole clenching in time with his thrusting, my abs started contorting as my stroking became a mess of fast and slow strokes. I felt this amazing build up of pressure inside me, like an explosion of pleasure that started in that sweet spot where his dick, his raw, manly dick was pegging me, then it spread fast into my balls, and I couldn’t hold back. “Oh…fuck,” I twitched, and his next thrust into me sent me over the edge. “Ungh,” I uncovered my face to see him thrusting into me as my first wad of cum shot out and splashed where my neck meets my chest, the next thrust pumped a huge shot of cum onto my lower pecks, another and another as each of his thrusts kept my orgasm going until my balls had completely drained and I was trembling under him. His thrusting didn’t stop, though. My orgasm subsided, and he leaned over me, pumping faster with his hips. His glorious cock, now felt like an intrusion into my anal walls. I grunted and hissed. Fuck, he’s about to shoot. “Ahh…fuck,” I hissed. “It hurts,” I mumbled.

“I’m almost there,” he continued, pumping. “Just breathe.”

His thrusting was so intense. It wasn’t as painful as his initial entry, but it was a different burning now that my anal walls were not accepting it as pleasure. Fuck…he’s not wearing a condom. He’s not going to shoot inside me, right? His thrusting got faster, and his muscles were flexing, his face now inches from mine as he continued folding me in half and pumping into me. “You’re not going to…ahhh…shoot inside me, nnngh…right?” I asked, trying not to scream with each new thrust.

His eyes got big, and he grinned. His hips shifted, and he thrust up and deep into me. His cock started twitching, and he grunted, his eyes closed, and his mouth hung open. His hips gyrated as I felt a warmth coating the burn inside me. It felt so good, and I knew he was shooting his spunk inside me. His head dropped down, and he breathed. A ripple ran through his body, and his head popped back up with an, “Oh…man.” He rocked his hips deeper into me, and he chuckled.

When his eyes met mine, I asked, “Did you finish inside me?”

He chuckled, slowly stroking his softening dick inside me. “Oh yeah,” he grinned. “It was a big load, too,” he let out a heavy breath, reaching for his whiskey glass and taking a big gulp before putting it back on the desk.

I felt instantly disgusted. Creepy Uncle Nevel just shot his load inside me. I just had sex, lost my virginity, to Creepy Uncle Nevel. “Fuck,” I groaned, pushing on his chest to get him off of me.

He sat up straight, and I felt his dick slide out of my hole. He took a deep breath, all of his muscles flexing as he did.

“We shouldn’t have done that,” I said, reaching for my battered hole, feeling the wet, sticky cum leaking out and mixing with the grease.

He breathed heavily, shaking his head. “You needed it.”

The room was spinning, and I was feeling tired. “I…what?” I reached for the tissues on my desk and cleaned the mess off my stomach.

“You needed to know…now you know,” he slurred his words and stumbled as he got off the bed. He started examining his dick, then used some tissues to clean himself up.

I didn’t know what to say. I just kept pulling tissues and cleaning as much semen off my body as I could. Knowing there was a massive portion of his deep inside me made me want to vomit.

I watched him pull his underwear back on inside out. The package I found so alluring an hour ago now grosses me out. I can’t believe I let him do that to me. I tried to wipe as much of his cum off my ass hole as I could, but the grease was destroying the tissues, and I gave up. Pulling my green briefs up, I found them tangled in the pushed aside blanket. He grabbed his whiskey glass and held it up as if to say, ‘cheers,’ and took a sip. Then, he unceremoniously stumbled out of the room, leaving the door open, and seconds later, I heard the door to my sisters’ room open and close.

I lay there in the glow of the fish tank. I felt the little glass bottle under my pillow and gave it a shake as he had done. Then I inhaled from it as he showed me. The rush was even more intense. I capped the bottle, and instead of fighting the spins of the room, I leaned into it, letting the darkness lull me right to sleep.

The next morning, I was sore, hungover, and no longer a virgin. I went to the bathroom and took a piss, rubbing my asshole, which was now greasy and a little crusty, but my hole felt sore, and I was worried I destroyed my body.

After a long shower, I got dressed and went to the kitchen for breakfast. My Mom was mixing batter for a cake and asked, “You want me to make you something?”

I rubbed my eyes, trying my best not to look hungover. Then I stretched and yawned, “I don’t suppose you can make some waffles?” Waffles always made me feel better when I was physically or mentally not feeling great, and she knew it. 

She gave me a second glance, still stirring the mixture in the bowl, then said, “Alright, if that’s what you want.”

I looked out the glass sliding door. My Dad was out there with Uncle Nevel, both shirtless and sweaty, carrying 2x4s as a team and stacking them up. “What’s going on out there?” I asked.

Still stirring, my Mom glanced out the door, then back at me. “Oh, while your Uncle is in town, your Dad wanted to finally get rid of that old deck and build a bigger one for our spring barbecue. You should go help them after breakfast.”

I had instant mixed feelings about seeing Uncle Nevel shirtless and sweaty. His muscles bulging, his artfully chosen tattoos contrasting with his farmer's tanned skin, the waistband of his white briefs sticking up out of his camouflage cargo shorts. Knowing what he looks like while he’s shooting his load inside me both made me want to vomit and sent blood rushing to my dick. I cleared my throat, “Umm…maybe, if they want me to help.”

“I know your Dad does, he wanted to wake you, but your Uncle Nevel said we should let you sleep. Did you get in late?” She asked.

“No later than usual,” I lied. “But…I didn’t sleep well,” I told her.

She nodded, pouring the mix into a cake pan. “Well, I know your Uncle will be happy to see you. He was disappointed you weren’t here when he got in yesterday.”

I nodded, yawning, and asked, “How long is he in town this time?”

“Oh…who knows. Uncle Nevel has always been a bit odd and kind of goes by the beat of his own drum,” she shrugged and forced a smile. “I think he said he was going to stick around until your sisters get home for spring break, so he’ll be here at least a week.”

My gut twisted. What if he wants a repeat of last night? No…he wouldn’t, that was all about me, right?