Custard's Last Stand
Bald Hairy Man
This is pure fantasy. If you are offended by stories about gay men and gay sex, or if you are under age, DO NOT READ IT. It is not a guide to safe sexual techniques. It does not depict real men, or real situations. It does not depict necessary safe sex practices. Fantasy characters can do anything they want, real men can not!
My Uncle Joe thought up the name for his ice cream custard stand, Custard's Last Stand, forty years ago. He hoped it would go nationwide. It didn't, but it went city wide and there were now thirty stands. Somehow it became the favorite location for children's birthday parties.
He specialized in mini bite sized puff pastry wrapped ice cream snacks. Joe liked joke names, so Raz-a-ma-taz Raspberry, Fairy Delight, Clown Coconut, and Dark-Chocolate Wonder flavors were popular. As the stands got older they also became popular for joke birthday and retirement parties for adults. The custard and the cones were home made and the prices were low, so a party there was a nice, fun and economical event. The snacks were small, but rich. If you ate only one, they were low calorie. I am not sure anyone ever ate only one,
Custards Last Stand did not make it to Wall Street, but it was consistently profitable year after year. Uncle Joe never married, and I was his only brother's only child, Joseph. Everyone called me Joey. Joe joked that I was his favorite nephew. I was his only nephew. Joe was fun, cheerful, and gave me great presents at Christmas and for my birthday.
Uncle Joe got sick when I was in my last year of college. I was getting a degree in accounting, so I worked in his office helping him as he got sicker. When he died two years later, he split the estate between my parents and me. I got half of his money and all of the business.
Running Custards Last Stand was not a dream business for me, but I knew almost all of the employees. If I sold the business, many would be out of a job. I decided to keep the business.
We had a simple, but well attended funeral. Joe had a lot of non restaurant related friends. Most were older men, but there were some younger guys too. Joe had never married, and I guessed why. Men in his generation didn't admit to some things. His private life was very private.
The next day I had an office meeting with all the managers of Custard's Last Stand. I told them I would be the president of the business, and there would be no immediate changes. I also issued bonuses for long time employees.
My parents decided to retire and move to Florida. They had vacationed there and knew where they wanted to live. They had had a friend there who wanted to sell his house to them. My parents asked if I wanted the house. I said no, so they sold it. There were considerable tax advantages to buying a new house with the money from the sale of the old house.
I had been living with my parents, and I moved into Joe's house. I was a little worried that they wouldn't like that. It turns out having a twenty-four year old son leave their house was not a problem at all. It was nice to know my parents were normal.
Joe's house was big, but not too big. It was on the side of a hill in the woods. He had similar tastes to my parents, but the furniture was newer and in good condition. The appliances were brand new. I found out later appliance manufacturers were very willing to supply a man who owned a chain of restaurants with free household equipment.
I had been in the house for three weeks, when Spiros, one of Joe's best friends came by. I asked him in and he again expressed his condolences. Spiros invited me to a little get together of Joe's closest friends. I said I would be glad to attend.
"I hope I don't offend by telling you, some of his friends were very close. They had an intimate relationship with him. They were all-male relationships," Spiros said.
"I am not offended at all. I knew he never married, and assumed his interests were elsewhere," I said.
"There are photographs and videos here that would embarrass some of his friends," Spiros explained. "I was hoping to collect them and avoid embarrassment."
I understood. I smiled and said, "That is not a problem, show me where they are and you can take them."
We went into the basement rec room. There was a concealed closet to one side. A secret panel opened.
I took out an photograph album and a 8 by10 photo fell out. It was a nude photograph of Spiros, fully erect.
I was shocked and said, "Damn, your cock belongs in a museum! What a beauty!" I was known for sometimes blurting things out. It seems that my response gave him a clue as to my sexual preferences.
"Your uncle liked it," Spiro said.
"Could he take it?" I asked.
"He could and did take it anywhere it fit," he replied.
"Up his ass?"
"It was no problem at all for him," Spiros replied. "Would you be insulted if I told you that I suspect you have an itch in a hard to reach place?"
"I've taken a few cocks up my ass. Their cocks were the size of a pinkie finger compared to your monster," I said.
"You're built like Joe," Spiros said. "I bet it would fit." He paused. "This might sound like some Twilight Zone, Science Fiction thing, but you said the exact same thing Joe said thirty-five years ago when we first met."
While I didn't want to take it up my ass, but I surely wanted to see Spiro's cock in the flesh. The all powerful god governing stupid sexual decisions took control of my mind.
We got naked. I sucked his cock to an erection, and I fell in love. I was shocked. It wasn't 100% love, it was clearly focused on his cock. Spiros had a coat of curly white hair covering most of his body. When he had pitch black hair and looked a but scary. Now he looked like a well hung Santa. He was permanently in heat and willing to fuck.
Spiro told me I had my uncle's build and sexual equipment. Most of all I had Uncle Joe's ass. His cock had been a prefect fit. I didn't know if I wanted that at all, but a perfect fit is a prefect fit. I knew that while I sort of didn't want it, I would be craving it in a day or two.
It fit. I hoped he would pull out before he shot off. When he shot ejaculation after ejaculation of steamy cum deep in my ass, I came close to passing out from the pleasure. I rested when he pulled out. "That was good," I said.
"Wait until you meet all of your uncle's pals," Spiros said.
"That might be a bit much," I said.
"Joey, you know you are going to meet them. You are going to turn them on, and they will do the same for you," Spiros said. "I have a strong sense you and Joe have similar tastes."
I didn't believe that one bit, but somehow my cock and my ass took control. Tried to resist my sexual urges, but logic and intelligence were unequal to the task.
A week later Spiros and I drove up to the home of Willard D. Carson, the owner of the largest stock brokerage firm in the city. He had been Joe's broker and was responsible for much of his wealth. He lived on his family farm ten miles out of town. He was a widower, and had two grown kids. One lived in New York and the other in Seattle. They returned rarely. The original 19th Century farm house was carefully restored. We went to the back into a rec room.
There were ten or twelve men there. Most were middle aged, but there were a few younger guys. With Willard, Spiros and me there were 13 to 15 men.
"Men, I want to introduce you to Joey. He is Joe's only nephew and the new president of Custards Last Stand. Introduce yourselves to him." Turning to me he said, "Joey, I want to assure you that there will not be an exam on their names before you leave. By the way, the dress code is a bit informal. The guys don't mind nick names, but "Big boy" and "Is that thing real" are popular choices." The men laughed.
Two men came up to me. "I'm Dennis, your uncle was a good man and a great friend to me," one of the men said.
"Are you Dennis of Dents-R-Us?" I asked.
"I sure am," he said laughing. "It was Dennis's Body Shop. Joe thought the name needed more zip."
"Did the name work?" I asked.
"It sure did!" he said, "My ex wife thought it was stupid, but it worked. When she left me for another man, Joe came by to cheer me up. I have no idea why he thought that letting me shove my cock up his behind would cheer me up, but it did the trick." Dennis was a big, brawny man. He was bald, but the chest hair poking out from his partially unbuttoned shirt was thick and curly.
"I'm Tulsa, Dennis's right hand man. I was real unlucky with the ladies. He gave me a blow job that made me realize I had been looking in the ladies section of the store when I should have been looking in the Big and Tall section of the men's department," he said.
"I got to know Joe better when my cock was up his ass," Dennis said. "He preferred to be a top, but he thought I needed an affectionate replacement for my wife. He wasn't a lover, but he was a great guy. I had sex with him for months before I discovered he was a top. I figured I owed him, so I let him fuck me."
"Was it okay? I asked.
"Let's just say, when it comes to sex, the more you do, the more there is to like," Dennis replied. "He was always ready to help if you needed it and he was always fun to be around."
"I'm not that outgoing," I said. "I can't rhyme either." The men laughed.
"There were times when Joe's rhymes drove you crazy," Tulsa said.
Another man came up to us. "Joey, I'm Sonny of Sunshine Florists. I assume you can tell Joe worked his magic on my business's name. My nickname is Sonny, but I am Reginald Whitson Jr. My dad started the business. He worked for a Funeral home before he became a florist. We were Whitson's Floral Service, and specialized in funerals. When my dad died I took over the firm. Joe told me the big bucks were in weddings and fancy banquets.
"We changed the name the Sunshine Florist and did window displays of wedding cakes surrounded by flowers. Weddings are indeed big bucks. Joe also suggested we do funeral flowers that related to the deceased. When the hunter Tommy Gibson died, I did woodland flowers and evergreen branches for the funeral. Everyone commented on how appropriate it was. I've done thirty of more funerals for hunters since then."
As we talked I notice several of the men paired off and went to a quiet corner of the room. Many of them were shirtless and some were nude. I noticed two men were obviously enjoying themselves. No one seemed to notice, of if they did, no one cared.
"Did Spiros mention that we are all old friends and pretty uninhibited?" Sonny asked me.
"Nope, but I guessed uncle Joe had lots of intimate friends." I said.
"Some of his friends were intimate, some were more purely recreational," Sonny said.
"What kind of a friend were you," I asked.
Sonny smiled and said, "I was in the recreational category. Joe made sure that his partners liked it as much as he did. I had been a Johnny-One-note. Joe taught me how to play all the instruments in the band. He knew all the tricks of the trade. I was unsure about being fucked. Some how he managed to get his cock in my ass and when he shot off deep in my hole I thought I had won the lottery. It was beautiful."
Dennis had been listening. "I had a similar experience. Joe called fucking me a "buff and shine using a custom, home made polish."
I asked him how long the polish would look good. He told me it would last a long while, but some guys came back for a touch up.
"How often did you go back?" I asked.
"Usually every few weeks. Joe later gave Tulsa some lessons, so we traded our home-made custom polish regularly," Dennis explained. I went off to a corner with Dennis and Tulsa. We got naked and had a good time. Dennis had a beer can cock. Tulsa had a tea spoon cock. An over sized cock head crowned a long, thin, shaft. Later Dennis told me he used the technique my uncle like best. I reacted the same way Joe did.
A huge, ugly man came over to us. "Dennis is this an exclusive engagement or is there room for one more?"
Dennis introduced me to him. "Joey, this is Ruben. He is on the city crew. He a good man even though he can scare you when you find him in bed with you in the morning."
"Shit, I scare myself when I look in the mirror," Ruben said. The men laughed. He looked like a Bigfoot imitator, except he wasn't wearing a costume. He dropped his shorts and I immediately noticed his cock belonged in a museum. Ruben's cock was uncut, almost twelve inches soft and the diameter of a beer can.
I immediately thought it would rip me in half. I liked to think of myself as a normal guy who just happened to like sex with men. I also thought I was sort of interested in cocks. While I knew that, but I somehow knew I had to have it in my ass. I shook hands with Ruben and introduced myself to him.
"Joey, there is something special about Ruben that attracts some men. Ruben thinks it's his smile and his muskrat size beard. Don't worry, only a few guys needed to be sewn back together after they got to know him intimately," Dennis said.
"You guys must think I'm easy," I said.
"You're wrong about that. We're hoping you're easy!" Tulsa said. We all laughed.
Ruben was all muscle, hair and cock. I had a sense he didn't have a future in nuclear science, but I later realized he had a lot of common sense and was a good judge of character. He was on the rescue squad. When you need instant muscle, Ruben could move heavy objects like smaller cars.
Dennis later told me that Ruben was mostly a top and seemed to know just about all the ways to get his cock into tight places. He had no problem easing his way into my backside. He later told me I had been easy. He told me that I had my uncle's ass. I asked him if he liked it.
"You like it more than he did," Ruben replied. "For him taking my cock was an achievement. When I shot off in you, you glowed. When I pulled out your ass sort of kissed my knob. I don't know if you wanted to thank me, or if you were trying to squeeze the last drop of cum from my ass."
"I wanted to hold it in me a little longer," I said.
I was afraid I made a spectacle of myself taking Ruben's cock. That was sort of true, but to Ruben it was as if I was a weight lifter, winning the gold medal at the Olympics. I was an athlete, not a slut.
Looking back I realized that my uncle was a good man with many friends. Joe was friendly, funny and helpful. He also seemed to be incredibly horny all the time. He wasn't sexually aggressive like the business man who makes a pass at every good looking woman in the building. He just let nature take it course. He wasn't a Hollywood dreamboat. He was just a friendly guy.
I sort of looked like him, and much to my surprise I seemed to have his sex drive. I think living with my parents must have dampened that drive. Along with his business, I seem to have inherited his friends.
The party was a success. I found out a lot about my uncle, and discovered that he and I shared the same taste in friends. We also seemed the have similar sexual tastes and preferences. You could say I went from being a closeted kid, to having a collection of like minded friends.
They had one other trait I liked. They were all into sex big time. They were all closeted and were usually reticent about their sexual tastes. Most were professional or had small business. We were in a small, bible belt city, so a low profile was a smart choice. There were a few restaurants that became sort of gay later at night. There was a dance hall that had a back room. The Excelsior Motel never asked questions about their guests or their companions.
In some ways uncle Joe was at the center of gay social life for a portion of the population. He was successful, smart, funny, intelligent and generous. If you had a fund raiser at your church, Joe would help you out. If he couldn't help you. He knew some one who could.
I knew enough about his business to keep it going. There was one aspect about the business I didn't know. Spiros was the inventor of Raz-a-ma-taz Raspberry and all the specialty items on our menu. He had been the cook in an upscale hotel restaurant. He didn't want his name used with his contributions to the Custard's Last Stand's successful menu. He was a serious chef, and did not want to be known as the creator of joke novelty delicacies.