— Originally published in Stroke magazine - V12N3 1992 —

— Repinted in Cock Addicts #1 - November, 1998 —

"Take off those underwears before you split them

and come here and play with my meat."

_________

"It's all to do with stress," began my Aunt Vicky through a plume of smoke. She idly twirled her glass in its own condensation as she considered what tack to take on this latest family crisis. "You know, Edgar," she continued, "your mother has just been working like a madwoman to... Oh, hell! That's not what I meant...."

While she took a pull on her cocktail and tried to edit her discussion, I thought simply that my mother had wigged out and was signing herself into one of "those places" to get it together. Stuff happens, no point in becoming crazy over it.

"Well, Edgar, the point is that my sister Marjorie put a great deal of energy into her career after your late father passed on...."

I thought back to the time I was nine and heard "your late father" for the first time. It took me two years to pick up on the fact that he wouldn't be running in the door at some inappropriate time and panting out an apology. "Late" apparently meant "Quite dead, don't hold the soup."

"Edgar, I know you're upset, Dear, but try to pay attention," said Aunt Vicky, lighting up another cigarette. "Anyway, she's made a bundle of money, but frazzled her nerves in the process. Lord knows, I could sure use the hundred and fifty a week that your mother has arranged for your care, but with my four girls already cramped into this dinky house..." She paused briefly, calculating which of her daughters might be expendable. She sighed and swigged down some more vodka. "... And of course your Aunt Charlotte has her own problems." This was said with an arched eyebrow and a disapproving mouth set. I nodded knowingly, but actually I'd never been privy to the family scandals and I thought Aunt Charlotte was as normal as the rest of them.

"Well, I'm sure I'll be okay if I stay on my own. I could..." I began enumerating my many adult qualities, but was summarily interrupted as Aunt Vicky started on the part of this spiel that she actually had some hard information to back up.

"We've contacted your late father's brother in Texas and he's agreed to take you in for as long as necessary. Under the circumstances, it was very nice of your Uncle David to take on this responsibility."

"But I don't know this guy from a hole in the ground," I protested.

"Well, you can enjoy getting to know one another." she said, and clinking the ice in her empty glass, she ended this chat with a weary, "Edgar, please, don't bust my chops. You leave in two days. This way your mother can concentrate on getting better and not have to worry about what's become of you. Your Uncle David is family. Blood. Kinfolk. I'm sure that he'd treat his brother's child like gold."

--------

That's how I ended up sitting in the debris-strewn cab of my uncle's pickup driving through one of the ugliest towns I'd ever seen, trying to make small talk with a surly stranger. I would unstick my sweat-soaked shirt from the grimy plastic slipcover to get a better look at the vacant pre-fab office buildings and decaying boulevard shops. The air was so thick with heat and humidity that my glasses fogged up, the few people stupid enough to walk around in this weather were sun-baked and probably insane. There was even a mall that looked like it had been deposited by an alien spacecraft as some kind of tasteless joke. My uncle was a thick, muscular, hairy guy who smoked constantly and with slightly less regularity, poked, tweaked and adjusted his genitals through greasy Levi's. His stubby fingers were nicotine-stained a toxic yellow. His moustache was long and somewhat irregular, I couldn't tell whether he chewed on it or burnt patches with his butts. Uncle David's face, neck and arms were a rich dusty tan but the glimpse I'd gotten of his chest showed skin as white as my own, although matted with hair and dirt. He looked at me with eyes such a pale blue that they were almost colorless.

"Not what yer used to, eh?" he chuckled. "It'll get better when your mom's checks start arrivin'."

The only things I knew for certain about this man was that he was thirty-five and drove a route truck for one of the big soda companies. We were both perspiring so profusely that I couldn't figure out whose smell was whose. I noticed that he had a faded tattoo on one arm as he again tugged on his bloated-looking crotch.

"Well, really, Uncle David, I was thinking...," I started a new round of dead end conversation.

"Just Dave, Eddie. That 'uncle' shit gives me the creeps," he said, swinging the vehicle onto an even more forlorn appearing road.

"Uh, yes. Well, Dave. Most of my friends call me Edga...," I began.

"Well, here we are, Eddie my boy. It ain't much, but it's home. Grab your gear and let's get inside. It might be cooler but not much. I don't believe in air-conditioning; it's bad for your lungs." Dave said, tossing his cigarette onto the parched, barren front lawn.

I'm sure that I'd never used the word "ramshackle" but it immediately sprang to mind. The grey wooden house was dwarfed by a double garage attached to the side. I gathered up my luggage and trailed Dave into the house. My room was situated between the kitchen and the garage door. It boasted a deep metal double sink and a small window. The bed that Dave had found for me fit rather nicely where a washer and dryer would have looked perfectly at home, if Dave had been the type to care about clean clothes. There was, however, a strong if musty breeze produced if the garage door was left open, and after all, I would have to go into the garage pretty often as that's where my dresser was located. I began to feel put upon until I toured the rest of the place and saw that my section appeared almost upscale. Uncle Dave was sitting on the couch with a remote control in one paw and a cigarette in the other, juggling these items to fluff up his huge sweating balls and oversized penis. He wore what I was to think of as his "at home" attire, a pair of dingy threadbare boxer shorts, the favorites sporting worn holes in the inseam. Never having seen an uncircumcised cock before, I tried to study his without being obvious. Even to my untrained eye the foreskin enveloping his fat and vein-adorned member seemed freakishly excessive. After saturating three different outfits, I decided to follow suit and just wear my jockeys. When Dave wasn't at work, we could always be found, each on our own end of the couch in our undies, staring with glazed eyes at whatever flickering images my uncle's button-pressing hand would select.

One day, I asked him if he'd ever been married.

"Women fuckin' annoy me. All that nattering and shit," he answered.

"But still you must have got...," I continued, too hot and comatose to think of another subject.

"What is this shit? The fuckin' inquisition? I just told you that women get on my nerves. Look, Eddie, I got you here as a favor for my brother Bobby. And for the extra dough. I have no intention of playing twenty thousand questions while your mom basketweaves her way out of the booby-hatch," retorted my uncle while rolling his prick between his fingers and giving them a sniff.

Actually, he wasn't always so taciturn. On the phone with his cronies he could be almost charming. I was beginning to wonder if I was just not his type of person, when he turned his brilliant smile and twinkling eyes on me. He put his arm around my shoulder, sliding his damp armpit hairs on my neck and steered me toward the garage, his cock flopping out of his shorts. I hardly knew what to think. "Eddie, my boy, I realize that the last few weeks have been pretty uneventful," enthused Uncle Dave, a true master of understatement, "and I got to thinking 'this kid needs more mobility.' So then, it hit me. You got a driver's license, right?"

"Yes, well it's like this...," I sputtered.

"Okay. So, I remember that a buddy of mine left a scooter in the garage. It still works, I'm pretty sure. Anyway, you can run it down to Lenny the mechanic and have him give it the once over." He was handing me a mismatched pair of socks and my jeans, kicking my sneakers into the center of the room." "Yeah, this'll be great, here's fifty bucks. Go check out the mall, take in a movie, scope out the chicks, whatever." He swiped a cobweb out of the helmet and nudged his dick back into his transparent boxers. "Get the back tire checked out; it looks like it might need some air. Here's the brake, the accelerator's right there. You're all set. A regular 'Easy Rider.' Bye. Have fun. See you later." Dave shut the rolling garage door and I puttered my way down the road.

My initial euphoria was diminished by the time I walked the scooter into Lenny's Car Clinic and Gas Station. That back tire not only had no air, but precious little rubber left on it. Lenny groped his privates through his grease-slick coveralls and spit a very nasty brown fluid on his shoe while inspecting my defunct machine. As he plucked material from his ass crack he commented. "Hell's bells! If it ain't Ray Weaver's old bike. It's a good bike, but that back tire is shot to shit."

I considered gasping at his uncanny perception but thought better of it; the only other garage was miles away.

Lenny leaned on his pump and stuck something square into his mouth. "Ray ordered a new tire, but by the time it arrived he had set out for Alaska to work the pipeline or some-such. My guess is that Dave still has that tire in the packing case it came in. Go fetch it here and I'll give this old dog a good goin'-over. If you don't find it, give me a call and I'll reorder it." Lenny grinned and scratched his nuts enthusiastically. I set out on my long and hot journey wondering if I'd somehow incurred a hoodoo or something. By the time I arrived back at the homestead I was delirious. My pants weighed a ton and the combination of dust and sweat had created mud in my sneakers, which bubbled as I neared the porch.

There was a maroon Chevy parked next to my uncle's pickup. If Dave was entertaining one of his buddies, I represented the perfect comical figure if they were in a mood to "fun" with me. I decided to sneak in and out quietly with the tire and some fresh clothes. I peeled off my shirt and pants and went into the garage to look for that damned tire. The box was easy to find, right under the window. As I leaned over to retrieve it I heard voices and saw a flash of activity from Uncle Dave's bedroom, which was less than six feet from my eyes. Sprawled across the bed was a Mexican-looking guy lying on his stomach. Dave hovered over him, pounding his huge prick in and out of the guy's ass. The Mexican was encouraging Dave to slam him harder, to fill up his ass with that massive organ. I was stunned by the contrast of the Mexican's smooth olive skin and Uncle Dave's two-tone hairy body. Dave's cock was twice its normal length, taut, fat and an angry pink color. He had either cum already or was using some clear lubricant. His tool was too shiny for it to be only sweat, and his heaving ball sack slapped wetly against the other man's balls.

"Fuck. Oh, yeah. Felix, you wanna get on top for a while? Wanna ride my cock? Huh? Felix?" stammered my relation through some very throaty grunts.

"No, buddy. I like this position today. Man, I needed this bad. Jam that hot cock up into my guts. Uh, yah, ugh, fuck me, Davey." said Felix, raising his leg and grabbing a dark brown cucumber that must have been his dick.

"You have become the laziest fuckin' beaner — you used to dig on acrobatics. You gettin' ready? I see you're fuckin' going to shoot. Roll over, you fat fuck," said Dave. He pulled his prick out with a wet plop and separated Felix' legs. With one hand, he grabbed both their cocks and began jerking them off. The other hand slid down and poked at least three fingers into the Mexican's hot, stretched out shit-chute. They began a series of groans and garbled obscenities culminating in Dave spewing thick gobs of scum all over the hairless flesh of his partner's chest. Felix came less spectacularly, dribbling out massive streams of cum, completely covering my uncle's fist.

They shuddered, their bodies jerking convulsively as Dave continued squeezing their softening pricks together.

"That was pretty good," murmured my host as he began licking all the spunk puddling on Felix's belly and pubes.

"Get some fucking A.C., willya? Let's take a shower and see if we have it in us for another round before the kid gets back," said Felix, pulling his prick from my uncle's lips and heading for the bathroom. I couldn't hear Dave's reply, but they both laughed heartily and then started the water running. I leaned against the wall, waiting for my knees to stop trembling and stared at the blobs of my own cream dappling the dusty floor. I had no idea how many times I shot. No idea whatsoever.

So for several weeks, this new pattern was established. Uncle Dave would stuff cash in my hand and praise the nonexistent youth culture I would be hustled off to enjoy. I'd disappear long enough for his guest to arrive, then hide the bike in a nearby copse of dead trees and sneak back to observe the unfolding drama. After a while, I'd discovered quite a few vantage points and sometimes used binoculars to better see all the pulsating details. There was an old guy about sixty who used to plug Dave for long tender sessions. His cock was really long and the head (when he skinned back his of dangling foreskin) was a light lilac. Then, there was an executive type who drove up in a sports car, doffed his suit and power tie, and put on a ladies' nightgown. Dave would slap him around and mock-rape him while ranting off an abusive tirade. This became my least favorite and actually drove me to visit the mall on occasion. A big bodybuilder would sometimes show up, but whatever they did happened in the bathroom and I never found a safe place to watch from. It was a pity, because the guy was black and I really keen to check out his equipment.

One particularly hot night, I sat alone on my end of the couch, flicking from channel to channel and trying to ignore the rivulets of sweat coursing down my body. Every once in a while, I'd stand up to give my spot a chance to cool off. My briefs were gray and the elastic was beginning to fray. It seemed to me that all my incessant whacking off had either stretched my dick or it was simply in a state of permanent semi-hard on. Uncle Dave hadn't returned from work and I had a sneaky feeling that he'd sought out refuge in an air-conditioned haven. I was staring vacantly at the television screen when I heard a car pulling up outside. It wasn't the pickup. Several minutes later the door slammed open and there was Felix trying to hold up my uncle, for all apparent purposes, stewed to the gills.

"Give me a hand, willya? This fucker is heavy." Felix huffed at me. Together we managed to drag him in the general direction of the couch and deposit most of him on it.

"Is he hurt? He's got blood on his shirt and pants leg." I asked.

"No, don't worry. That's someone else's blood. Davey got a little frisky and beat the piss out of some asshole who was slapping around some whore. It was just a nosebleed, but Christ!  He sprayed it all over the bar. Ha ha ha!" explained Felix. 'By the way, I'm a friend of your uncle's, Felix Cisernos. You're the spittin' image of your father, except for the glasses and the hair color"

"You knew my dad?" For some reason this surprised me.

"Well, you know. High school. I saw him around," said Felix. "We sort of moved in different circles."

"Different circle jerks, you mean," slurred my kinfolk from his supine position.

"Get those clothes off him and soak them, maybe they can be saved. And Eddie, try to get a few aspirins in him. I gotta go; I've got two more brain-deaths in the car that have to get home. See ya." Felix took a final peek at my basket and headed out the door.

I had no idea what stripping and transporting a two hundred and twenty-five pound man entailed. He was half on the bed and half on the floor when I submerged his shirt and pants. (I also tossed in the socks. They were definitely gamy.) I was really getting tired. I crawled up into the nest of dirty sheets and pillows and began hauling him in by inches. His snoring was almost deafening, and as we were both slick with sweat Dave eluded my grasp several times. Finally, I had him positioned in the center of the bed where he wouldn't slip off and crack his skull, but his arm and a good deal of his chest was on top of me.

Breathing heavily, I determined that I would need to rest and regroup my strength before going to get aspirin and begin this wrestling match anew. In a tangle of sweaty limbs, I discovered that I had been dozing. No, I had been sleeping; it was starting to get light outside. I shifted onto my side to avoid the steady blasts of extremely foul breaths emanating from my uncle. His moustache was clotted with spittle and his snoring had increased in decibel. It took me only a minute to realize that the heated cylinder pressed against my butt crack was a hard cock. Slowly, I began rotating my hips, trying to lodge that meat as close to me as possible. My mouth was dry and the light patina of sticky perspiration coating my body chilled me as the morning breeze blew through the window. When his snoring became interrupted by occasional strangling noises, I would freeze, the thumping of my heart infusing the whole bed. I could feel the pulsing in my ears. I was grinding my ass up and down against his pole and I felt it twitching and expanding, and still it didn't seem near enough.

Dave's arm lay across mine, his short fingers grazing my nipple. I began peeling my jockeys down from my exposed hip, as carefully and with as little sudden movement as possible. Nestling back into my former position I glided his hot, naked cock right between my cheeks. For several minutes I simply lay there, basking in the incredible sensation of the entire length of that sticky baton fitted alongside my asshole. Needing more, I once again started to shift my butt in tiny circles mashing my uncle's rubbery stiffness into my sweaty crack. Pre-cum leaked from his flopping foreskin, smearing a coat of his juices onto my lower back. In his sleep he responded slightly, following the wave of my motion and pushing back. Guiding his arm down the length of my side I gradually placed his hand over my dick, still confined in my underwear. With each stroke from behind I could feel his fingers encircling my pouch. I started cumming, my entire body spasming, my cock jumping and shooting again... and... againnnn.......

--------

Opening my eyes, I began my every morning ritual of locating my glasses. The layout of the room seemed strange, and then, I noticed Dave standing at the end of the bed decked out in his logo jumpsuit and cap for work. He looked at me kind of funny.

"Did I," he inquired, "by any chance, try to pork you last night?"

"No. Of course not. What crazy idea you...," I said defensively.

"Whew! What a relief. Go back to sleep. I'll catch you later."

Over an hour later, I finally did wake up. The sun washed the room in a golden light and I rolled around enjoying the extra space. I've never been much of a morning person and it took me several minutes to see that I wasn't in my own bed. And that the back of my shorts were twisted into a tight roll under my cheeks. And that the crotch was encrusted with an expansive yellowing stain that could only be drying semen. Luckily in this part of the country, it's too hot to think, much less worry.

There was a program on about giant otters in South America that seemed very familiar. Sometimes if you see the promotional spots often enough it's like having seen the whole thing. I was immersed in a six-year-old National Geographic and stealing furtive looks at Uncle Dave's cock in its usual various positions at the other end of the couch.

"Are you going to be gawking at my pecker from now on, or what?" asked Dave with a scowl.

"I'm sorry. I, uh...," I choked out.

"Well, it's starting to get on my fuckin' nerves so cut it out," he said. And to show he was serious he parked his overflowing ashtray on top of the member in question.

"I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I'll just... er..." I was flabbergasted at the prospect of not being able to feast my eyes on his cock. I'd become accustomed to that fat juicy prick always on display.

"I've seen this fucking show. Maybe even twice," he said and looked at me. He really showed all the signs of complete exasperation. "Oh, fuck it. Come on," and led the way into his bedroom muttering about "fuckin' novices." He shucked off his shorts and lay on the bed, spreading his legs wide. "Take off those underwears before you split them and come here and play with my meat."

I played with the loose foreskin sliding it over the peach-colored head and feeling the weight of it. My fingertips traced the raised patterns of veins and fondled the hairy jumbo balls. Close up, I became intoxicated by the aroma of his sweat, piss and cheese. My tongue scooped around his glans, probing his gaping piss-slit. It had hardened to its full majestic thickness so I tried stuffing it in my mouth.

"Easy! You dumb fuck! It's a cock, not a fuckin' sandwich! Turn and face the other way. Yeah, asshole. Put your dick over here by my face. Now, you do exactly to me what I'm doin' to you," he instructed. The second I felt his lips around my dick I shot off. Uncle Dave sucked it down and continued giving me directions and soon the entire shaft of his prick was embedded in my throat. Some cold greasy stuff found its way to my asshole, and then, his fingers began jabbing that tender flesh. Four of his thick fingers were spreading my hole open as I licked his balls like a hungry dog. When he sank his hot flesh tube into my butt lips, I felt as if I were going to heaven by degrees. He fucked me hard, fast, slow, deep, shallow, every way possible. Just before he shot his load up into my burning canal, he ordered me to jerk off, but I had cum so many times already that I could barely manage a drizzle.

When he pulled out, he laughed. "Well," Uncle Dave said on his way to the bathroom, "I suppose we can take some of that money your ma's been sending and fix up the garage a little to give us some extra room." His loud pissing was splattering around the rim of the bowl.

I smiled about his use of the words "us" and "we" as my asshole gave gooey gasps of contentment. He must be insane if he thinks I want to stay in this crummy town!

THE  END