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Coming of Age
|Long time, no type. Hello, guys, what's up besides your dicks? Me,
been busy, obviously, but I found myself on a long plane ride with a
laptop and an extra battery, and look what I done. Not sure if I'll
finish it -- you know me, so many unfinished tales -- but if anyone
feels inspired, feel free to take it up where I left off.
Hope you enjoy it!
|I knew very little about my nephew save his name and his age. My
half-sister's son was given the unfortunate task of growing up with a
certified lunatic. To be fair, my parents had disowned us both, but
for different reasons, but that connection had not solidified my
relationship to hers as the family outcasts, mostly because I
considered myself normal and human, and she was a crazed loon.
She had been living in a commune of some sort, and believe it or not the group was some sort of UFO cult or something, though what they really believed I wouldn't know until Joe joined my household (being me and my dog, Buddy). So she had been disowned for being just weird, while my own rejection was quite a bit more mainstream than that. When I came out to the parents at the age of 19, I was summarily dismissed from the house as a fruit and a blight on the good name of Lawson. So it was that I moved out and never spoke to them again.
Joe's upbringing had to have been as odd as my sister. Surrounded by the weird fanaticism of a religion that believed, as far as I could tell, that the Earth had `visitors' from some distant planet on it, and they would mingle with us and guide us and some such horseshit, which I guess is no more far-fetched than the idea that some bearded dude is sitting on a throne in the clouds doing the same thing.
Maybe it helped that I believed neither possibility.
I knew of Joe, but there were no communications between Diane and I, and certainly no pictures. He was now 16. I was 28. Diane and I shared mothers, but her father was long gone by the time mine showed up, and she was ten years my senior, more often my baby sitter than my sister. Now she was gone, and somehow I was the only person in the world she trusted enough to raise her son.
I didn't know who the father was, but he was evidently gone. All my questions to the organization where she'd been up in Oregon had gone unanswered except one – Joe would be arriving today.
I lived in San Francisco, in a one-bedroom apartment in Twin Peaks. It wasn't a big place but it offered an amazing view of the city and a quick walk down 17th to the Castro. It was convenient and it was comfortable, but how I was going to fit a teenager into my life was something I had yet to figure out.
`Unprepared' is a word that pales in comparison to what I felt when I answered the knock on my door that Sunday. Turning the handle and pulling it open, the man – not boy – that stood on my threshold was beyond beautiful, and built like a brick shithouse.
This was trouble.
Now, I'm not a small guy. At 6'2" and 210lbs, I am one ripped and buff stud. I work out five days a week, I am on my bike and up Mount Tam every Sunday, rain or shine, and I am proud of how I look and how strong I am. So maybe you can imagine what I felt when I was confronted with a guy who looked like he outweighed me by a good twenty pounds – all of it muscle – and I had to look up to see his face.
And what a face! Jesus! I must have stood there gawking for a minute or so before he said, "Uncle Jerry?" I could hear Buddy barking from the bedroom and I woke from my daze to say, "Joseph?" and watch the kid's smile spread across his smooth, tanned features.
Then he dropped his duffle and embraced me in his arms. I could feel every hard contour of his brawn pressing against me. Then, amazingly, he kissed me on the lips. It was a short, introductory gesture but I wasn't expecting it and my reaction caused him to pull away slightly and stammer an apology. "Oops," he said, "sorry. I keep forgetting."
His words didn't quite register and I nodded and mumbled, "S'okay, I just… Jesus you're big!" His smile grew incandescent and he nodded.
"Yeah, sorta. Um, can I come in?" His brows arched until the disappeared under his dark honey-colored locks. His hair was long and shining. He was wearing a T-shirt that looked to be one size too small above a pair of jeans that hung off his narrow hips. A couple of inches of flesh was bare between the hem of the shirt and the low waistband, and he displayed a tight, flat belly as tanned as his face. His navel looked like a little smile on the smooth contour of muscle. I opened the door wider and he picked up his bag and came inside.
I paused to catch my breath, breathing in his earthy scent as he passed, and shut us both inside my small place. He had deposited his bag on the floor and stood in the center of the room, looking around. My place was well-appointed, showcasing my tastes in mid-forties furniture and modern art. The wood floors gleamed and the sun's reflection was thrown up his body, making his muscular angles stark and obvious inside that small shirt. "Welcome," I managed to say at last. "Do you want something to eat? You hungry?"
He shook his head. "Nah, m'okay. Could use a glass of water, though?"
"Yeah! Yes, of course. Just water?"
He shrugged, his shoulders mounding into mountains. "What else you got?"
"Orange juice, San Pellegrino, uhh, I might have a bottle of beer or… wait, you're 16."
He smiled again. "Yeah."
"You sure don't look it, Joseph."
"Just Joe." He was looking at the couch. So polite! I would have to get used to that.
"Have a seat. I'll be right back."
He sat down and clasped his hands at his knees. More of his fine, straight hair fell forward across his face and he pushed it back over one ear, his bicep balling into a huge muscle. "You have a really cool place, Uncle Jerry. I like the art."
"Thanks, a lot of it is by locals. Undiscovered talent, you might say."
"That's cool." His voice, separated from the overwhelming physicality of his presence, was light and easy and colored with honesty. It was deeper than I would have expected, but with a body that size maybe that was normal – although my definitions of normal were about to be drastically challenged. "You like it here?"
"Twin Peaks? It's nice. A little pricey."
"No, I meant San Francisco."
I came back with two glasses of water, handing him one. "Sure, it's great. You know I'm gay, right?" He shrugged. "So, it makes it easier. I often forget how easy we have it here when I go almost anywhere else, except in Europe. Parts of it, anyway."
"Why are you gay?" My expression probably gave me away, because he said again, "Sorry, I keep forgetting."
"That's okay. Keep forgetting what?"
"How it is out here."
"What do you mean?"
"Back… home, nobody cares about that."
"Stuff," he said, then he looked at me again, intently. "Sex stuff."
"What do you mean?"
He leaned forward. "It's like… everyone's so scared or something. It wasn't that way back home. No one was scared."
"Scared of what?"
He tilted his head. "Kissing. Like when I kissed you. And you pulled away."
"And fucking." He said it bluntly. "It's like everyone has to, like, be something or fall into a category and try to, sort of, not…" He scrubbed his hand through his hair and fell back into the couch, exposing more inches of tanned flesh above his jeans again. His other hand fell to his belly, onto his skin, and crawled up under his shirt. His stomach was a cobblestone street, and even relaxed his six pack was cleanly defined. "Do you mind if I…?" But instead of finishing the question, he was stripping out of the T-shirt, pulling it up over his body.
Good God, where had this boy developed such a body? As he pulled the white cotton from his torso, I watched the muscle twist and flex under his golden flesh. He was lean and hard and deeply etched with brawn, gifted with killer obliques and a pair of pecs that put mine to shame. Completely hairless, his skin seemed to glow. Under his arms he had a hint of curls, dark and wet with his perspiration, but that was all. He lay the shirt across the back of the couch, allowing me a view of his shoulders and the three distinct lobes of muscle that bulged from them, before turning back and lowering his arms. His pectorals relaxed into two heavy globes with amazingly fat and perky nips, and he grinned at me as he reached down and his fingers started undoing his jeans.
I was dumbfounded. My mouth hung open but no words came out. He was unbuttoning his Levi's, exposing a crotch lightly dusted with rough blonde curls. He wasn't wearing underwear, and now that I looked, I could see the lengthy bulge of him pushing against the dark denim.
"Is this okay?" He stood up, now, and pushed the shoes off his feet and shoved his jeans down his perfect, beautiful, amazing body. His cock was long and fat, his balls hung low, completely hairless, and in moments he was standing in my living room, my 16-year-old nephew, stark naked, deeply tanned, golden-haired, with the face of a god and a gloriously muscular and beautiful body.
"Joe, I don't think…"
"I'm not used to wearing clothes." He bent to pick up the jeans and started to carefully fold them, putting them with the shirt. "These aren't even mine, and the shirt was kind of tight." He settled back onto the couch, absently brushing his limp prick with the back of his hand. He looked down at this tool with a sort of distracted nonchalance, as if this was how everyone spent their spare time – not watching TV or reading books, but lazing on their couches and worshiping their own huge dicks. He was uncut, with a wealth of foreskin, and the shaft had two fat veins running the length.
"Joe, maybe you shouldn't…" My cock was throbbing hotly in my pants. I could hardly catch my breath.
He simply sat there and looked up, across the space between us at me. His body was glorious. A perfectly formed collection of youthful brawn, bulging with power. His skin was bronzed, smooth and glowing. "Why not?" He glanced at my pants as I tried adjusting myself. "Oh. Well, if it helps, take off your clothes, too."
"I'm not sure that's a great idea, under the circumstances." He started to say something, so I changed the subject quickly. "Joe, I think we should go down into the city and take you shopping." That wasn't really what I wanted to do with him, but it made more sense and wouldn't lead to any arrests.
"Well, frankly, I'm all for nudity. But there are rules about this sort of thing and also anyone with a body like yours parading around naked in this neighborhood on any day that isn't Pride or Halloween is going to start a riot." I swallowed hard, "Well, a riot is definite possibility regardless of the actual date." His belly rose and fell slowly as he breathed. I watched his abs swell and recede, thinking about licking them.
He grinned mischievously. "Really?" A spark came into his eyes that spelled T-R-O-U-B-L-E in big capital letters. "I don't like wearing underwear." He hefted his fat balls in his grip, but one spilled out, they were that big. "Makes me get all cramped up."
"Ooookay, but pants, at least? And we'll find some shirts to stretch over your torso." Joe flexed for me to display his size. "They make them out of cotton and lycra, they're very comfortable."
He shrugged. "If you say so, but I still don't see the point." He scratched his crotch, sending his pendulous prick bobbing. "You said yourself you don't like clothes either." He peeled back the foreskin and rubbed his index finger across the piss slit. The head was smooth and gleamed like glass.
"I didn't say that, exactly."
"You said you like being nude," he smiled and stood up, stepping towards me, his physical closeness and sheer muscular beauty overwhelming me. "Can I just be naked a while longer before I have to try and put myself back into those clothes?" His eyes flashed and his smile was lascivious. One hand was resting on his firm, cobbled belly. The other was still calmly stroking his monster, and it was showing signs of life, arching forward over his big ballsack and thickening noticeably.
I got up quickly, going toward the bedroom. "I'll find you some that'll fit better. You're a little taller and a lot… bigger than I am," I admitted, glancing at his cock, "but I have some shorts that'll work, lace-up jobs with ample room up front, and you can wear one of my tanks. There aren't any arms to constrict your guns and…"
"Biceps. Guns." I shrugged. "Gym talk."
Buddy erupted out of the bedroom and attacked Joe like he attacked every new person he met, with unadulterated love. He jumped against the kid and Joseph welcomed him like they were old friends. "Hey, boy! Who's a good boy? Yeah! There ya go? Hey, what's his name?" Buddy was snorting all over Joe, including his cock, balls and ass. If the boy wasn't bothered, neither was I.
"Buddy," I said, crossing my arms. "Apparently he hates you."
"Dogs love me." He bent down – his prick practically dragged the ground! Fuck, this was going to be a difficult roommate. Buddy was licking his face all over and Joe wasn't minding at all. "He's cool!" Joseph stood, and I watched his muscled flex and bulge everywhere as he moved. "Hey, Buddy! Where's your ball, boy? Where's your ball?" Buddy knew that word well enough, and he darted toward the couch and began to bark and dance, "Is it there, Bud? Under the couch?" He dropped to his knees and bent down to reach under, awarding me a perfect view of his ass and, more than that, his tight, rosy hole.
His butt was as smooth and hairless as the rest of him. His heavy balls dangled low and there was that huge cock again, lying on the carpet. The muscles of his back stretched and swelled as he reached under the couch and retrieved the bright green tennis ball, looking back at Buddy still on all fours as he rolled the ball away. I think he caught me staring at his ass, because when our eyes met again, he was smiling and wiggled it slightly. "You sure you want me to get dressed?"
He had a fantastic butt, there was no doubt about that, and his hole was so choice and juicy that my groin swelled again as I thought of sticking my tongue up his ass and lubing the way for my hungry cock. I took in a sudden breath and my mouth hung open as I watched him dilate his asshole for me. His butt was winking at me.
"Um…" Shit. Okay, okay, he's your nephew. Get that thought out of your head. "Yes, I think you'd better."
He got to his feet and stretched his muscled frame, tilting his torso at an absurd angle that showcased both the extent of his muscular control and the limber nature of his young body. He lifted an arm and took a deep, lengthy whiff of his body's scent. "Mind if I take a shower? It's been a long trip." He moved his hand down the side of his body, starting at the pit and running over the ripples of his intercostals and rubbed a sheen of his sweat along his tight belly.
I swallowed hard. "Sure, no problem. Follow me." We went to the bathroom and I turned on the water. When I turned around, Joe was standing so close I could hardly move. "Towels are on the rack," I said.
He smiled, pressing against me. He leaned his mouth to my ear and asked softly, as if this was the dirtiest thing he'd done so far, "You want to join me?" His breath was warm and wet on my ear and I think his tongue brushed against the lobe.
He wasn't joking, and this was becoming a serious problem for me and my weakening moral fiber, so I left the bathroom and the beautiful and off-limits young man behind and quickly departed. I went back into the living room as I heard the glass shower partition slide open and the tone of the water suggested he was not following me out and pondered this young man who had abruptly come into my life.
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