UNCLE, GRUNGE & Love: Chapter Eleven
The day went by quickly. As much as I wanted to slow time and savor each moment of my new life, it felt like life with my Uncle moved at warp speed.
Is that life's irony? It goes too fast when it's going good, so we miss all the best parts - and it goes too slow when it sucks, so we wallow in depression?
Or - is this just mid-twenties gay angst from a kid who was getting his dream and not trusting it?
Fuck if I know.
But, after the ribbing that the guys gave me - and a hug from Lizzie the Lesbian Flower Lady, who told me she was happy for me - the day flew by. The only sore spot was Carlo, who gave me more shit, but even he came with revelation. I saw everything so much clearer now that I was living the life I was meant to lead - being the boy that lurked inside.
He was jealous, I thought - I could see it in his eyes. Jealous that I was happy, jealous of the man I was becoming and seriously jealous of the man who had made me that man. It came in a spark as he spit out some bullshit when I passed by. I turned, about to confront him - and then I saw it in his eyes.
It was sad to me - but also hot, in its own way. He wanted me, but he lived a life that wouldn't allow him to have me.
That was clear now.
So, I just smiled at him, gave him a wink, told him he was hot (he was) and moved on with my day and my life.
After my shift, the shopping went quick and as I was checking out, my phone buzzed.
"Meet ya out front, Stewie," it said, and then he sent a stupid selfie.
As I headed out of the store, loaded with groceries, he hopped out of the big truck to help. Each moment like this cemented my heart to his. It was beginning to feel dangerous how much I loved this man, but maybe that's the nature of love: it's the everyday shit that is shared that suddenly becomes meaningful.
He tossed the groceries in the back of the cab, slapped my ass as I got in the truck, and headed to the gym - tossing my ratty (and stank) gear at me.
"Get changed, bucko - " he said, smiling at me. "Coach is gonna kick your ass again, today."
"Oh great," I said, rolling my eyes, and he pretended to look wounded, but clearly was not. Then he threw me a water bottle and told me to drink half.
He was studly - wearing shorts that barely held his jock, and a jock that barely held his crotch. The tank top was old but held his muscles, accentuating them perfectly. Damn if he hadn't dressed specifically for the part, now that he knew he was the object of gay attention.
"You are so fucking hot, Unc," I said, showing him my tongue after gulping the water.
He just grabbed his cock and rearranged it -
"Need help with that, Dad?" I said, smiling at him.
"All the time, kid - but right now - it's you I'm focused on. Time to get you manned up!"
"Aw Jesus," I said, and then we were pulling into the parking lot of the gym. He waited patiently while I slipped out of the coveralls and into my jock - which I took a moment to snort, just as he did when he'd passed it too me.
"Nice ass, babe," he whispered, looking when I flashed it - and the appreciation was real. He was either embracing his homosexuality or just being a more rounded sexual animal. I didn't care - I could smell the desire and that's all that mattered. I pulled on my Under Armour and struggled with my kicks - but was ready as quickly as I possible. When I looked at him his eyes were glazed, staring at me. Then, he saw me staring at him and pushed his face into mine, nose to nose, breath heavy and masculine.
"You ate my shit this morning, son," he said, stating the new fact between us. I immediately sprang hard ... of course, I was half-hard already.
"I know, Dad - " I said, looking at him, proudly shamed by my desires. "Been thinking about it all day."
"Me, too, son. Me, too." Then he kissed the lips that had ingested his waste - giving me an evil smile. Minutes later we were checked in at the gym.
At the treadmill, he said: "You didn't run today - I did, while you worked," snorting his pit, which wafted heavily in my direction. I could barely see straight it smelled so good - aroused me so much. "So - half hour on this - start at the five-setting for the first five minutes. Then move up to a jog for ten - then a harder run for the rest. You figure out the speed -"
I nodded.
"But - I'll be watching -"
He turned on the machine, looking me up and down with a different eye. He really DID turn into a coach here and I loved it, even though it frightened me.
"I'm gonna do a quick circuit myself so I can focus on you when you're done."
He slapped me on the ass - hard - and three queens looked at me with envy. Then, I began.
I won't go into the major details here - or the minor ones. All I will say is that - to the extent that I could - I kept an eye on Jayson and he sure as hell put on a show for the fags at the gym - strutting and displaying his best assets - front and back - and he took notice of the eyes that were on him. It was not slutty - he was just operating in a new reality and testing the limits of that reality. And while I expected to feel jealousy, I only felt appreciation. As I have said, the ladies in his life (or, heterosexuality, generally) had done a number on him. If his ego was rebuilt - brick-by-brick - by a bunch of hungry cocksuckers, so be it.
I couldn't understand WHY he needed the affirmation: to me, he was a God, or, more accurately, a Bastard of a God, like they had in Greek Mythology when Zeus or some other entity got bored with his equals and mated with a human being. But my understanding didn't matter - he needed the affirmation and he was sucking up the adulation. In the end, the benefits would rain down on me, literally and figuratively.
Throughout the very tough workout he would whisper -
"That one kid? You think he's hot?"
"He wants to suck your dick," I would say, straining under the weight.
"Him?"
"Can't tell - seems straight - but I see the side-eye, too."
Then -
"What about him?"
"Possibly a freak - I think he's standing close so he can smell our funk," I whispered back, looking at the tanned, Mediterranean looking dude what was following us around like a puppy.
Jayson nodded at the kid and that nod just about melted him - but the more I looked, the more I realized he was no kid - there was a maturity about him that belied his youthful looks.
"I'm Stew," I said, introducing myself, as we moved to the next weight machine, and Jay's mouth fell flat on the floor. Fuck - if I was gonna teach him how to be gay, I was gonna teach him how to respond to obvious cruise. "This is my unc - um-uh - my friend, Jay."
"Tello -" he said, shaking my hand, and I had to ask again, 'cuz the name sounded weird to me> But that was his name so ... "Nice to meet you, Tello," I said. He pulled himself in, close, and that got Uncle's back up - but the man was only catching my scent, securing my instinct that he was at least part-pig.
"You're friend is a very hot man," Tello said to me, while eyeing Jayson - but I noted he did not give up power. The man's legs were smothered in hair and his pits were fur-balls - his ass was compact and tight - and his guns were thick and corded, even as he was shorter than both of us. The entire package was impressive: squat and swarthy and sexy.
"Well - uh -" Jay said, cutely tongue-tied.
"You smell like a man," Tello said. "The way a man should." And then the dude lifted up his pits and snorted. The move was private - surreptitious between the three of us, huddling in the corner, mixing our sweet sweat and stank.
"Yeah," Jay replied, catching on. "The way a man should." He went for his crotch again - I was learning it was his default stance when aroused - but this time, after the adjustment, he pulled his hand up and out, sniffing his personal scent.
"Can I try," Tello said, a surly growl in his voice. Jay just pushed his big hand into the man's face, who breathed deep, giving a smile of lust. "Like a man should," he whispered, his crotch enlarging impressively. Then, there was a pause and he bowed out of our coupledom with grace.
"With your permission," he said to Jay, grasping Uncle's crotch-hand with his own, shaking it, "I will give my number to your boy - you can call me, if you want - and we can maybe all have fun together - "
"That would be fine," Jayson said, learning the ropes, and imposing himself with his power. "But right now our lives are - busy - and ... complex - so you'll have to be patient - give us space." When he said that, he stepped between me and Tello and I felt protected. Owned. My face flushed and I looked down - I actually got dizzy with emotion.
"I would wait years for a chance with you two men," he said, meaningfully. "And perhaps we will see each other here."
"We come here a lot," I said, quietly, but subserviently. "Mr. Jay is a good Coach - he could maybe - help - with your workouts.
"I can always use some pointers - "
He stepped back, giving us our space, as "Mr. Jay" had requested. But then he said, "As long as you do not shower first - a natural man smell is the only smell for me."
"Naturally," Jay said, clawing back at his ass, scratching it intentionally. Tello's nostrils flared, and then he went on with his workout.
Minutes later, after he helped me finish my set: "Fuck, Stew," he said, looking at Tello, who was now working on his squats. "We coulda invited him over, huh?"
"Yessir. He wants it - bad - from both of us, I think. Not sure what he's into -"
"He likes stank - it's a fucking start."
"Yeah it is," I said, lustily. The dude was hot - not necessarily my type, but the thought of him grooving on Jay's cock got me twisted. With Jay in my life, a whole new buffet of men was opening up, and that buffet was 'all you can eat'.
"You gay guys - Jesus -"
I looked at him, smirking.
"What?" he said, stupidly.
"You mean 'US' gay guys, dontcha Unc?" It was dangerous ground, but I didn't care. If I couldn't have fun with him it wasn't gonna work. And, anyway, his crotch was full. He was being all gay and I wasn't gonna let him off the hook. And, with that, he did the unexpected - laughed so loud that the entire gym turned and looked at us.
"Come on, kid - let's finish up. Time to call it -"
And then, ten minutes later, we were in the truck and on the way home.
In the parking garage - alone - in the dark - I took the risk of taking off my pants in the cab. Trucks turned me the fuck on and I had a chance here. Jayson didn't hesitate at all, pouncing on me, licking at my sweat, and otherwise doing everything but raping me. The small space bloomed with our musk and soon it was all arms and legs - but I couldn't get a position that worked so I pushed open the door and sank to my knees, shirt on but pant-less, going public with my passion. He didn't skip a beat, looking both ways then jamming his cock in my mouth, but after a couple of deep stabs, all I could think of was his ass - the scene of my crime this morning - so I pulled off and raised up his legs. He caught on immediately, shoving his ass over the side of my seat and giving me full access.
"Hungry little fucker," he grumbled, but he spread 'em and I dove in, tonguing him deep and sucking on his slot with abandon.
I fed on his ass in a frenzy of fuck-lust that even I didn't expect or understand. I chewed and munched at his sweaty trench, shoving my tongue in as deep as I could go, and mouthing my insanity with grunts and groans of frightening hunger. I didn't know if I wanted to feed again and I was hopeful that it might happen again here, in near public - I didn't know if I was driven by the recent lack of orgasm, or by the testosterone that was surging through my body after two days of extreme workouts. All I know is that I was lost in the moment - descended to a level of grunge-gorging that I didn't know was lurking beneath my already-horny surface.
I could have eaten his ass all night and all I heard from him was a strong huffing of intense arousal that matched my own as his muscular butt responded to my ministrations. I wanted to stick my entire head up his hole and live there - I was insane with lust, on the edge of begging him for greater depravity.
And then there was the reverberating sound of a car door slamming, and I flew out of my revery, pulling up my pants, as he shifted up in the seat, a dazed look on his face.
We stayed like that - still - as a car pulled around the tight corner and left the garage - catching our beaths.
"Gonna get the groceries," I said, finally, gathering myself.
"I'll help," he said, vacantly, pulling up his sweat pants, which bulged, obscenely, given the urgency of his staff. Then he reached back, grabbing bags, passing them to me, grabbing the rest, and exiting the cab. We strode up the stairs two at a time - which was his thing: "Great for the glutes," he would say - pumping our thigh and ass muscles.
We got into the apartment, heading straight to the small kitchen. I turned the corner, put the bags on the counter. Behind me I heard him drop the bags on the floor and then his huge frame was up against my back, pushing me forward. I had nowhere to go except forward, given his momentum, and I was crushed against the wall, his hips grinding into my ass. He pumped two or three times against me, hard thrusts, sweat-pants to sweat-pants - aggressive frottage. Then he spun me around and grabbed my face with his hands. His eyes were not wild - they were vacant - nearly lifeless, like he was all instinct, no brain. Like the connection to his brain had been severed by his cock and balls.
Then he did something surprising. He stuck his tongue out and licked up the length of my face, swabbing off all of the butt grunge I had truffle-hunted, and tasting it for himself. It was a starkly male and feline action - like a huge lion licking the hot meat before he devoured it. When he was done, he pushed himself away.
"Not sure I can do this," he said, body pulsing: a coital coiled cat, ready to pounce.
"We don't have to," I said, offering my input, but again, learning the limitations of a structured relationship. So, I just leaned into that structure, dropping to my knees, head down, looking at his feet.
"Whatever you decide is the best thing for us, Dad," I said, simply - not knowing that this was, in fact, just what he needed from me: the necessary boost to push him forward.
"I'm gonna take a break," he said, very quietly. "Step back a little," he said, backing away. I rose, slowly.
"You should lay down, Dad - you've been pushing it pretty hard. There's a lot going on for you right now. New home - new -"
"New relationship," he said in my direction. "New life," he said, turning away.
"I'll put these away - don't worry, Daddy," I said quietly, watching him carefully. His breathing steadied. He turned, still a little vacant, and walked slowly into the small living room. I picked up the groceries, but then he dropped to the floor, emitting a low moan -
"Uhhhhhhnnnnnnnfuck," came the sound, deep and pain-ridden. "FUCK!" he cried, and I lurched out of the kitchen -
"DAD?"
"Hnh - hnh - hnh - hnh -" he gasped, trying to control his breathing. He was curled in a fetal position, beginning to shake.
"Jay - JAYSON!" I cried, kneeling beside him.
"Balls -" he huffed. His face had turned red. "Fucking balls - blues balls - fuck -" and I leaned down, heaving him up against my chest. I dropped my back, hard, against the front door, as I gripped him with my arms - he was so big, so muscular, but I held him as hard as I could, strong and tight.
"Breathe, Dad," I said with authority. "Breathe - now -"
He shook, and I let him -
"Fuck," he groaned.
"DAD!" I shouted, loudly. "Breathe. Now. Deep, deep breathes. With me, come on -"
And I started, and with effort he followed my lead, breathing in (as I gripped him tightly), then breathing out (as I relaxed my grip). It was his body that needed to breathe - his mind, it seemed, has shut down.
Minutes later - five minutes, maybe more - he quieted. Only then could I completely relax my grip.
Already I knew that the training he'd started with me was making a difference. My strength and endurance had improved. Without the two days of intense training at the gym, I never would have been able to yank him off the floor and control his bulk like that. In that instant I made a promise to myself. I would be as focused in my training as I could possibly be. I learned, in that instant, that if I was going to serve this man, I needed enough bulk to match his, enough strength to take whatever he had to dish out.
And, God forbid, if he ever needed me to save him, I would need to be strong enough to lift and carry his thick bulk.
"Here's what I'm gonna do," I said, quietly in his ear, as my harsh hold on him loosened and turned into an embrace. "I'm gonna come out from behind you and then help you get to bed, understood, Sir?"
"Uh huh," he said, quietly. It was fascinating to see him without power. It was ironic that his cock had felled him - not another man - not another human - but his own cock and his own balls that had brought him to his knees.
"We'll get you out of these clothes and you're gonna take a nap."
I did what I said, helping him down the hall. He was compliant, moving gingerly, but soon he was seated, taking off his shirt. I worked the boots - of course - and the pants. Then he was naked, lying on the sheets. He continued to breathe.
"Be right back," I said.
I turned on the faucets in the bathroom and kitchen, one hot, one cold. A minute later he had a cold clothe on his forehead and a warm clothe on his genitals. I treated them with reverence and care - no sexual undertones at all. I hadn't had much chance to examine him in repose - the beauty of his package lay displayed against his thighs. It was perfectly, entirely, completely male, thick and hefty and full. It took my breath away, and I know he caught that, but I refused to obsess. I needed to divert attention away from his cock, helping him to dial down his urges.
After a few more compresses I covered him with a sheet and blanket. He smiled at me, and I kissed him, lightly.
Then I drew the blinds and told him to sleep, which he did. He slept the afternoon away. At around seven or so, he emerged from the bedroom. I was reading on-line porn, as if I needed more arousal, but I couldn't help myself. But, nothing I was reading on-line matched what I was living, off-line, day by day, hour by hour.
He was naked and groggy and semi-hard. He looked at his dick as it swayed in the glomming.
"Normally I'd give this to you, kid," he said, stumbling past me, heading to the bathroom. "But I'm trying not to get hard for the next twenty-four hours."
"Good luck," I said, snarkily, and he burst out a big, loud laugh, striding to the bowl, and letting loose a jealousy-inducing stream of hot piss, brewed during a long nap.
When he came back out of the john, I was in the kitchen, prepping plates.
He sat at the table, still a little dazed, but waking up - shaking the sleep out of his body.
"Thanks, Stewart," I heard him say. I turned, looking at him. "You're welcome, Unc," I said, moving to the fridge. "You want a beer? I got take out - I'm ready to bring it up whenever you want it."
"Beer, yes," he said, nodding, and I pulled out two, opening his and handing it too him.
"Food, yes," he said before he drank more than half his bottle - enough so I just handed him mine, which he took with his other hand.
And so, I brought up dinner - an array of Thai that included too many egg-roles, a pile of fried wings, soup, noodles, rice and hefty sides. It was simple - abundant - and we chowed, him especially, just shoveling food into his mouth.
He sat naked, feeding like some magnificent caveman. Just days previously he had proclaimed that clothes were required at the table. Now he ruled that table with his nakedness, and it was right.
About three quarters of the way through the meal, as we were beginning to slow our gorging, he said, "This is an important meal," taking a round of seconds. "Make sure you eat a lot of rice."
He opened the second container of rice and dumped half on my plate. I said nothing - not engaging - intentionally working hard to lower the sexual volume. But I understood precisely what he was saying and I signaled that understanding by continuing to eat with relentless focus.
As we were clearing our plates, he spoke.
"That guy at the gym, today," he said, looking at me.
"Tello -" I said, getting up, getting two more beers. I figured a little beer and a little buzz would put us both out. Sleep was necessary, particularly for Uncle Jay, even after his long nap.
"Yeah - he basically told us we could fuck around with him at any time."
"Anytime," I said, popping the beers, handing him his.
"See, now -" he said, sitting up straight, shaking his head, filling his lungs with air. "I can't talk about this too much, or I'm gonna get hard - but is it that easy? Do you dudes do shit like that - like - a lot"
I started to snark, but then thought better of it. It was an honest question - it deserved an honest answer.
"I got three answers for ya, Unc," I said, clearing the plates. "First, yes, it's that easy. But, second, it's usually not that - you know - straightforward. He saw what he wanted and went for it. He laid his cards on the table, told us what he liked and left the door open. It's not always - that, you know - clear."
Jay was listening. My approach was correct. He was taking it in - actually learning.
"Third, though, is what I keep telling you, stud. You are hot as fuck. You're a fucking God, Jayson," I said, and he snorted, sucking back more beer. He feigned disbelief, but his ears were wide open. He was a subtle motherfucker, but the longer I hung around him the more I caught his nuances. He would often put on a sheepish "Who me?" cluelessness, but behind that façade was a hunger to be admired. It was this contradictory, endearing narcissism, that was bizarrely attractive. I kept speaking: "And there's also this goofy innocence about you which is adorable - so the combination is - you know - pretty powerful. I'm thinking you may need to get used to it."
There was a long pause while I put the kitchen back in order. He just sat, thinking.
"Did you think he was hot?" he asked, looking at me closely. I turned, addressing him directly. It seemed the only way to broach the subject of other men with Him, who was first in all things to me.
"He's really not my type - haven't ever done a dude like that - but I admit, I thought he was hot. I think what I keyed into was ... I mean ... I wouldn't be surprised if he was into the same things we're into." I let that sink in. "I mean - he's at least into funk and stink ... " He just took that in, nodding.
"Yeah," he said.
"Did you think he was hot?" I asked.
That turned his head.
"I don't know - I don't even ... know ... it wasn't him, that turned me on. It was the situation." He looked at me. "If we invited him over, he would have come, wouldn't he?
I nodded.
"And we'd all be just sweaty and - you know - fresh from our work out."
I nodded again.
"See - THAT'S what turns me on. He was hot in the way any guy would be hot that would let you fuck him - raw - at the drop of a hat. That would suck your pits or ...your ass - Jesus ..."
His voice trailed off.
"There's a lot of guys out there like that, Jayson. You're gonna have your pick. You better start getting used to it if you're gonna be hanging around with me."
He looked at me, then smiled that big-assed smile of his.
"Just you and me for now, kid," he finally said, standing slowly. "Just you and me for a while - a good while," he said, heading to the couch, where he lowered himself, gently. He picked up a console and I joined him, and soon we were playing some game I don't know what it was - but it was mindless and he needed that - we both did.
Later, in bed, he held me in his arms. We were gently and consciously unsexual, but it was difficult. So, I chose a topic that would create a chill.
"Are you worried - you know - about tomorrow."
There was a long pause. I felt his heart beating against my back. I loved being held by him.
"Yeah - I am."
I just pushed back into him.
"I mean," he said, whispering, settling into the bed. "That relationship seems like decades ago, given what's happened to you and me - to us. I mean, it's almost alien to me. It's so weird - hard to explain" I felt him thinking, putting himself back in the reality of just a few weeks ago. I could feel the honesty pouring from him. His trust that I would listen to him and accept him. "She and I talked about getting married. Talked about kids - it felt like we were on track. I'd almost proposed, but the counseling got me thinking, so I slowed it down a bit."
There was a long pause.
"I'm glad I did."
"Me too," I replied, quietly.
"So, yeah - tomorrow could be weird. It will be weird. Mostly, I just want it over with. Also, I want my fucking couch. That fucking futon out there is so me-ten-years-ago, I can't handle it.
I smiled, as he tried to tickle me - which only made me push back into him.
"Better not," I said, twerking. "Or, I'll get you hard."
"Little fucker - I'll make you pay for that."
"I hope so," I said, lustily.
Soon sleep came, but before it did, I said, "I'll be there for you, tomorrow, Dad."
"That's why I'm not worried" - he said, quietly, and then fell asleep.
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