Cross-Country with My Uncle Ch. 13

Meanwhile, Steve moved to Mike's chest, and very sloppily, licked his chest hair away in every direction from his nipples, leaving them clean and open; and then, wickedly teased first the one, and then the other with his lips, and tongue, and, gently, with his teeth.

Eventually, I had completed the thirtieth stroke, each very firm, very slippery, one designed to get the most mileage, starting at the root and pulling up, and at the same time pulling the cock away from the belly (and generally in the direction of his knees), and often enough, giving a bit of a swirl or slight twist, too, on approaching the cockhead, and it looked as if my sturdy, studly uncle was in good shape, and so the next eighteen strokes I administered in groups of three, with 15-second intervals between the sets. He probably thought that he was headed, finally, toward release, but he was wrong. On the 48th stroke, without explanation, without apology, without mercy, I left him to deal by himself with his great massive erection, unable to touch or rub anything, and Steve abandoned his tits.

It was now time finally, for supper. When Mike had entered the room, he'd been carrying a big bag of fried chicken. It had fallen on the floor in the first second of our surprise attack and there it had lain for the last hour and a half. By now it was somewhere between barely tepid and room temperature, but it was still aromatic. I brought a piece and moved it near to Mike's face and he immediately reacted with a deep sniff.

I held a piece to his lips and he took a large bite out of it, chewed it well, and swallowed. Steve had popped the tab on one of the cans of coke Mike'd brought, and he put a straw into it and let Mike sip.

Then with my teeth I ripped off another piece of the chicken, and held it in my fingers over Mike's mouth, and slowly lowered, as he took it in. Realizing that he had gotten to my fingers, he licked them, and opened his mouth for more.

I ripped off another piece of the chicken flesh, and this time held it in my mouth, and again slowly lowered it. In something reminiscent of the famous scene in "Lady and the Tramp" when he got to the end of the chicken strip he found my lips, and we kissed.

Again I ripped off a piece of chicken with my teeth to feed him. This time I mangled it a bit with my teeth, and again lowered it to him, and fed him mouth to mouth, and again, we kissed. Steve again offered him the straw from the coke and he greedily sucked. And now I pulled still yet another strip off a chicken part, and this time didn't merely mangle it along the way, I actually chewed my end of it, and as before, fed my helpless uncle mouth to mouth, and again, I was rewarded with a kiss.

The next strip I ripped from the chicken I fairly masticated, and deposited it directly from my lips into his, again receiving a kiss. And in the next iteration it was only an aromatic mash that I exchange with Mike in the course of a deep kiss.

And the next time, there was no chicken at all, but, holding his helpless head in my hands I explored every secret part of his mouth with my hungry tongue. Of course even blindfolded he had known it was me, from the first time our lips met, and his lips had wandered to my now four-day old beard. (Steve was of course cleanshaven.)

Then it was a matter of my holding the chicken right to his mouth as he chewed directly off the bone, until he signaled he wanted no more.

During the feeding by kiss, his cock had remained at the highest state of tension. During the feeding off the bone, however, he softened somewhat as his attention was distracted.

That was no problem: All it took was Steve kneeling between his legs and working his magic, that gift of fellation wherein it's not clear whether or not he's actually fellating you, it's so gentle and yet so real. In less than sixty seconds, Mike was as intensely, ragingly erect as ever, virtually on the brink, it seemed of culmination. But it was not to be so, even though Mike had already been submitted to our wills for more than two hours.

Steve and hauled on the ropes securing Mike's powerful legs, and pulled the duffle bags close to the bed, and then we actually lifted them onto the bed, so that in effect there was so much slack in the ropes that Mike's legs were effectively free to move for the first time, though his arms were as secure as ever.

I crept to the head of the bed and stroked Mike's hair, above the blindfold.

Steve knelt between Mike's legs, and stroked his belly, but avoided his cock and balls. I reached over and poured lube into his hand and he slicked his cock, and Mike's butt, and then, suddenly hauled Mike's hairy legs up and onto his big square shoulders, and shifted to position himself just right and pushed his cockhead directly into my uncle's hairy butthole. The introduction was the work of but a moment, and although the preparations were obvious enough, Mike still gave out a gasp, and then he said, "Mike, is that y---," before I, at his head, quickly stopped his mouth quite firmly with my hand.

He understood not to speak again - he knew we could replace the gag in a few seconds -- and he spoke no more words while Steve began the serious labor of reaming his butt. Steve was no newcomer to this line of work, and he knew every teasing way to make the experience pleasurable for both him and Mike, especially playing with Mike's sphincter with the well-lubed and very well-defined ridge of his cockhead; and then alternating short strokes with deep, exploratory ones, and changing speeds. Despite Steve's obvious artistry, Mike still didn't know who was fucking him. After a series of very studly full strokes, so that Steve completely withdrew from Mike and then sent his shaft full home, Steve once, twice, thrice, stiffened and trembled and shot his load deep into the bound subject of our amorous attention. Mike moaned, but knew better than to beg for final release.

Steve withdrew and lowered Mike's legs, and retired from the bed, and I took his place, without delay other than to lube my own erection, and in a business-like fashion I hoisted Mike's big legs onto my own shoulders as Steve had done, and tried to follow Steve's lead as much as I could. But as soon as my big cock split his butt, Mike instantly knew this time it was me, just by the difference in girth of my phallus. And this time no one stopped him when he moaned, "Mikey, Mikey, Mikey! It's you, it's you!" I signaled to Steve to remove Mike's blindfold at last, after close to two and a half hours, and he looked up at me and I looked down at him, each holding the eyes of the other, as I was at last redeeming the promise I made back in Galena. I leaned down into his face, stretching a bit, and supporting myself with my hands, and virtually fucked his mouth with my tongue just as I was fucking his butt. It sounds a bit coarse to put it that way, but I was in a passion I could not control, being in this incredibly intimate and special relation with the man I had idolized since my earliest memories, and this time I was fucking him, it was my big dick up his ass and he was loving it, and every movement of mine, small or large he accepted and received and was obviously grateful.

Pulling back from his mouth so that I could view his face, so familiar to me, so long the object of my fantasies - just to stroke his cheek! And now I was fucking him. It made me feel as though I were a giant bestriding the earth, and things would never be the same again. Odd as it sounds now to think about it, at that moment I was thinking that no matter what happened in the future, no one, no thing could ever take this moment away from me, that I was permanently changed, a different kind of man, a bigger, more serious and more joyful person, more a man of substance, more a man to be reckoned with by everybody, from now on.

I took my time, and like Steve I alternated small and subtle movements in series with several series of large and masterful, deep, exploratory plunges, such that sank my shaft right to its root. I wasn't experienced enough to know for sure what kind of difference, if any, the presence of Steve's spunk within Mike made. Of course it represented a new kind of bond with Steve, but all that seemed subsidiary, even insignificant, compared to the kind of bonding that I was undergoing with my young uncle. More than ever, I felt, more like a brother to him instead of a nephew, more of a potential partner, at least a junior partner, than just a disciple or admirer.

As all this went through my mind, something far more primal was operating. I too had had a constant boner for more than two and a half hours, and careful as I was trying to be, I could not resist any longer, and I gushed to the biggest orgasm of the entire trip, probably ever in my life.

Mike, of course, knew exactly what was happening as I was seized by my overwhelming passion and its inevitable sequelae.

But when at last I withdrew my now softening penis, Mike was still of course rigid as ever, still after all this time unrelieved. I lowered his legs, but spread them wide apart again, so that once again I was kneeling between them.

I was spent. I no longer had any interest in further exploring Mike's capacity for frustration, and it was evident that Steve too was finished. So I signaled to Steve to cut the ropes fastening his wrists to the bed, and I immediately went down on Mike's big, trembling cock. As soon as his hands were free, Mike put them gently upon my head, threading his big, strong fingers through my floppy golden hair, as my head bobbed up and down on his dick. I would have wanted to have brought Mike still more exquisite pleasure, but even more I wanted him to join Steve and me in repose after relief, and in a matter of seconds really, the deed was done, and my mouth was fairly flooded with his cum, now as familiar in its texture and smell and taste as it was welcome. I swallowed his seed, and, exhausted, lay my head upon his fuzzy belly.

And, curiously, after now close to three hours of ars amatoria, involving three very virile young men, except for a few drops leaking from my uncle's anus, there wasn't a speck of spunk anywhere to be seen, quite a different situation than in most of our earlier interludes, where cum wound up dripping from body parts, walls, floors, beds, car panels and showers and seeping into desert dirt.

I took a position alongside Mike, and lay my head upon his right pec; Steve did likewise, with his cheek upon Mike's left, and we each had a hand on his belly, our fingers touching. Mike raised his head, and leaned down and briefly kissed first my nose, and then Steve's. Now in repose, we quietly recapped the whole evening. As it turns out we each had a favorite part, but Mike had the last word when he said, "Guys, of all the nights of my life, this may the very last I'll ever forget."

And we sank into a deep sleep, and so ended the fourth night of my trip with my uncle.

To be continued...