He is asleep on the couch.
Tossing and turning, an obvious bulge rises up in his workout-sleepwear shorts, tented, from his nocturnal dreams of arousal.
I see the rounded top, the mushroom-shaped helmeted cock strain against the soft fabric of his fleece workout shorts.
It appears as if it will burst through the strained fabric, begging to be freed from its confines, at any moment.
He is 'going commando' in his shorts while he dreams.
His muscles, tensed, from the sexual frustration in his sleep causes his cock to stiffen, which is keeping him fidgety and restless while he slumbers.
As I gaze through the opening above the stove in the kitchen that spills out into the sunken den, I see he is bare-chested, hairy and sweating from his active sleep.
He is my nephew, not my blood nephew but one gained through marriage.
His aunt, my wife, I am her second marriage, she is my first.
He enthralled me the first moment I met and saw him at my wedding. A firm handshake, a scruffy unkempt beard, tussled hair and an obnoxious masculine bravado, are my first memories of him. He strives to be seen as the 'bad boy' at the wedding and a center of attention. An event, which brought him loudly into my life, he was welcomed. He was eighteen years old then, I think.
His wife has kicked him out of their house, again. It's become quite a frequent occurrence, and a cruel joke, when it happens; it lands him on my couch for the night. He is in his twenties, now. He is strong, willing and able. She accused him once again of cheating on her, he insist he hasn't but I guess she knows the power of his cock, more than me and suspects that many women lust after his man-tool like her or either she is a very jealous woman.
I catch myself fondling my cock as I stand in the darkened kitchen, looking at the young hairy-beast of a buck-man asleep on my couch. The bulge in my tightie-whiteys hurts as my cock is constrained against the bleached cotton fabric. I lovingly lift my cock out, coddle it, from its unwelcome confinement and feel the cool A/C hit my pubes, I cup my balls in my hand, weigh them, knowing that they are full of cum, which would be a much welcomed much-needed release.
I run my hands over my haired chest; tweak my nips, which grow harder in the cool air-conditioned space of the kitchen; he excites me, obviously.
My cock hangs over the elasticized waistband of my cheap briefs as I take in the image of him in front of me. My cock, buried and hard, in a hairy nest of pubes that attest to my manhood.
I hear a door open in the hallway, our bedroom, my wife and mine, which leads into the kitchen, where I am being a voyeur to a virile man as he sleeps.
It is she.
I tuck my cock and balls back into my tighty-whities and push my hardened cock back into its cradled position. There is a long tube-like bulge in my Fruit-of-the-Looms. Praying, hoping it goes down before she appears, if she makes an appearance in the kitchen.
"Is that you in the kitchen," she asks me, yelling from down the hallway.
"Yes," I answer, trying to be quiet as he sleeps.
"You alright," she asks, again yelling.
"Yeah, I am fine," I say in a whispered tone.
My cock is still at attention in my briefs, thinking and hoping it would deflate has not happened.
"Well come on back to bed, you have to get up in a few hours," she moans.
"Be there in a minute, hon," I say but not wanting to come.
Wishing I were next to him on the couch, nuzzling my nose and face into his male flesh.
I take one last look at him as he lies on the couch, uncovered; a sheet is buried under him. His cock is still hard; the dream must be fantastic and enthralling.
I catch myself salivating.
He is one fine specimen of a man.
He reminds me of myself at his age.
I was just as on fire as him.
I can only stay in the kitchen so long, as she will come back and catch me 'red cocked'.
I turn and depart to join her in our marital bed.
I see him standing the kitchen.
His presence outlined, oblivious to the light from the hallway that illuminates his standing form.
"Why was he watching me?" I say to myself.
I roll over and fall back to sleep, I have to be up early to go to work with him.
"Hey sport," I say, "time to wake up."
I touch him on his bare shoulder. His chest rises and falls as he breathes in his sleep.
His flesh is warm to the touch. I feel my cock twitch from my close proximity to him. A droplet of pre-cum escapes from my limp cock, its excitement.
I am still in my briefs, my cock not aroused as it was hours before as I leered at him through the kitchen.
When I rouse him from his sleep, his cock is still hard. The tented cock still prominently protrudes from his fleece short covered midsection. He acknowledges me as I wake him. I know he knows his cock is hard as he awakens. A man knows when his member is hard, especially when it is after a night of sleep; the piss hard-on is not an easy appendage to hide especially when you are not wearing underwear, as he does when he sleeps.
"Thanks Uncle, "he says to me as he groggily stirs from his slumber.
He reaches for his cock, to adjust himself; he reaches his hand into his shorts and fondles himself, not ashamed to do so in front of me.
I catch a peek of his upper pubes and the top-most portion of his swelled member.
There is a wet spot on his shorts from where his cock touched throughout the night.
"You want some coffee?" I ask.
I watch him as he stirs, still with his eyes closed to the morning.
"Sure, "he says, "but I gotta take a monster piss first."
"Okay, "I say as he jumps up in haste and races past me to the hallway and the bathroom and closes the door.
The sound of the toilet flushing is barely audible through the wall as I fill the coffee maker with water and add coffee.
He emerges from the bathroom and joins me in the kitchen as our coffee brews.
His morning hard-on has faded after his piss.
"Where is Aunt Mary?" he asks.
"She already left for work before I woke you," I say.
Her leaving early avails me another opportunity to gaze upon his manhood without any suspicious questions from her.
"Why don't you get a shower," I say," I'll get one after you."
"Okay," he says as he drops his cotton workout shorts in the kitchen floor, casually unabashed with his masculinity and heads to the shower. I leave them there on the floor, I am not his mother or his wife, I do not pick-up after a grown man. Also leaving them there will be another chance for me to see his ass as he stoops over to retrieve them. I take any opportunity I can to gaze upon his amazing manly perfection.
I feel my own flaccid cock come to life as I stand in my tighty-whities in the kitchen while I wait for the coffee to finish brewing. I grab my tool and adjust myself as I hear the shower come on from the opened door to the bathroom. He had left it open.
"The coffee is nearly done, "I shout out.
"Okay, Uncle," he responds accordingly, shouting from the bathroom over the rushing water.
I pour my cup of coffee and sit at that table in the kitchen. I spread my legs and shift my hard cock into a suggestive way, accenting it hardness, so he will see it when he makes his way from his shower.
The shower cuts off as I take my first sip of coffee.
It is still hot.
Sean walks into the kitchen, still drying his self off, his cock dangles like a pendulum as he walks. He is blessed with precious length. The towel is covering his muscled smooth chest, hanging over his left shoulder. He is not a hairy man but is instead blessed with sinewy muscles earned by hard work and tedious workouts with his own personal weight set.
If his aunt were here, he would have dressed behind the closed door of the bathroom but like with any man, when in the company of others of the same gender. A man does not worry about unneeded instances of modesty, if he is unashamed of his manhood.
"There is a cup by the coffeemaker along with the cream and sugar," I say.
He throws the towel around his neck; it hangs in a semi-circle, like an unclasped necklace.
As he prepares his coffee, I stare at his equipment, taking casual glances. I adjust my own cock, hoping he notices the wet spot on the center of my Fruit-of-the-Looms, if he does. So be it. I am still hard, although I have softened somewhat.
He finishes the coffee, preparing it how he wants it and sits his bare ass on the wooden chair near me.
I can see him clearly now.
All of him.
"So where are we headed today?" he asks.
"We are going out-of-town, going to be gone overnight," I say, "you got clothes here or are we going to have to go by yours and Amber's and get what you need?"
"I hate to say it but I am going to have to go by the house," he says.
"You think she is going to be there?" I ask.
"I doubt it," he says, "she has to be at the diner early; the breakfast rush is when she rakes in the most money."
He takes a sip of his coffee, relishing in the taste of it. He licks his lips as some of the coffee misses his mouth. I wish it were my cock, he was licking. I feel another droplet of cum escape my piss-slit as I gaze upon his unintentional sexual gesture.
"Okay," I say, "We best get a move on then. We are expected on the jobsite by noon. We are meeting the owner there."
"Okay," he says.
"You best pick up those shorts you left," I say as I point to those he shucked on the kitchen floor before he galloped off to his shower.
"Yes, sir," he says, jokingly.
He gets up from his chair and bends over, exposing his ass, which causes his low-hanging balls to descent between the hairy shaped V of his legs and ass-crack.
I feel my cock stiffen up to full mast as he does this. My cock-head peeks out over the waistband of my jockey shorts. I cannot hide my erection. I adjust myself; tuck my mushroom head back into my shorts before he sits back in his chair again.
He plops back down in his seat and gulps down another swig of his coffee. He places the dirty shorts over one of his legs as he continues drinking his hot java.
"Well, I best get my shower, so we can get a move on," I say.
I stand, leaving my empty cup of coffee on the table.
Grabbing both sides of my tighty-whities, I bring them down to the floor. My cock bounces out of its confinement and the sound of flesh upon flesh echoes through the small kitchen. I say nothing as I carry my soiled shorts to the washing machine and place them in it.
"You want Mary to wash yours?" I ask.
He throws them to me. I grab them as he tosses them to me, adding them to the already filled machine along with mine.
If it were not sitting in front of me, I would have sniffed them, smelled him in them.
I feel my cock twitch and jump as I touch the shorts that hugged his cock.
A drop of my cum hits the floor in a big wet dollop.
Knowing his shorts encased his man-meat, excites me.
Again, I do not acknowledge my erect cock, neither does he with words.
His eyes are focused on it as I move about.
His cock does stir too, growing a mite erect as he gazes at my nakedness but no words escape his lips.
I walk towards the bathroom and feel his eyes upon my older haired ass as I move. I do not turn around to let him know I know he is watching me. What is he pondering in his mind at my display?
On the Road
"So what is the job this time, Uncle?" Sean asks me as we are seated in the cab of my truck travelling to the job. It is a five-hour drive to southern Alabama, just over the Escambia County, Florida line north of Pensacola. We leave Havana at the first sign of light and head west on I-10.
He sits in the adjacent seat on the passenger side across from me.
"We are to update and enlarge a kitchen and make any changes that the owners want," I say, "the architect says they are a couple that is hard to please. The owner has hired a sub-contractor already in the same town but we will be doing the kitchen build. I am counting on you to be my eyes and ears on this job. "
"Oh boy, "he says.
"So expect anything from them," I say, "The contractor is a friend of the owner according to Gerald."
"I will," Sean says to me.
I know he will. I can trust him.
Sean started working with me after his aunt and I married. He picked up being a builder easy, it was a job he was born to do. He is a great worker with a very good work ethic; I trust his instinct on the guys who work with us. He has saved my ass twice from people who attempted to hurt my business.
I started doing kitchen rebuilds, remodels exclusively a few years back, and got really good at interpreting what people wanted and translating their wants into their dream kitchens. Over time, my reputation grew as the 'guy to go to', now I am asked to do some jobs in Alabama and Georgia, I just try to choose those jobs no further than five hours from my home. It provides me some alone time with Sean and a chance to get away from the wife.
"Do you know exactly what we are doing in the kitchen, Uncle Randy?" Sean asks.
"Gerald said that they want it enlarged, a custom antiqued fabricated range hood. I have to get the specifics today on the exact style," I say.
"So it is going to be a costly remodel for the couple," he says.
"Yep," I say, "...and hopefully more contacts in the area so we can expand more in the area."
"...and more money too," Sean says.
"Yep, growth is measured by profits, so yep, more money," I say.
Growth is also measured by one's pocket rod or more precisely by its strength, which one's possesses by the length and girth of the cock that protrudes betwixt one's legs.
I long to see Sean's cock grow.
He has teased and taunted me with his flaccid cock, I long to see it grow into full erection in full view, not covered.
Enough with the fantasies I have played out in my head regarding my nephew but it so good to dream about him.
"So where is that house we are going to?" Sean asks.
"It is out in the middle of bum-fuck Egypt according to Gerald," I say.
"The couple's home was designed by Gerald," I answer him, "so he has a vested interest in what we do."
Gerald is a much sought after architect in Tallahassee, his work can be seen all over north Florida, South Georgia and southern Alabama.
"Yep, apparently he played up my extraordinary ability as a builder," I say laughingly.
"Ha Ha," Sean laughs too, "Uncle Randy."
"It is a joke, "I say, "but I am thankful for the confidence that Gerald has in us, to recommends us."
"No, the confidence he has in you," Sean corrects me.
"No, in us, I could not do what I do if it were not for you," I say.
I then in my most uncle-like fashion pat him 'fatherly' on his shoulder to re-affirm the confidence I have in him and his abilities, I mean what I say.
"Thanks, Unc," he replies and places his hand strategically on my right leg as I drive.
I feel my cock stiffen in my pants. The bulge is apparent as my cock twitches and moves my jeans when he touches me. I want to adjust myself to make my hard cock more comfortable but it will have to wait. If I do it now, he will know he is the cause of my erection.
He does adjust his equipment, though, as he has grown hard too. Was his hardness because of me or just because the wind blew? No idea but his truck window is up and the A/C is on, so I have my answer.
We make our way to the house or what will be the house, I am unsure how far along the construction is.
I guess I will find out once we get there.
I finally see the number of the house painted haphazardly on a flimsy sign on this long desolate dirt road we have been driving on for twenty minutes. I turn in and make my way back to the address I was given. The GPS had stopped working when we crossed over in to Alabama. We had to rely on the old trusty maps. Sometimes technology ain't worth shit.
We pull up to a house under construction. There are two trucks parked when we get there. I recognize one as that of my friend, Gerald, the architect. He had not told me he would be here. There must have been another change in the plans; he said the couple that he designed the house for are a fickle pair.
We go to the door, ring the bell. I hope it works.
"Sean, why don't you go round back and see if you can find them," I say.
"Okay, Unc, "Sean says, "I sure will."
Sean makes his way around the yard to the back of the house. I stand at the front door patiently waiting. No one comes to the door. Where the hell are they?
Sean comes hastily from his errand I had sent him on.
"Unc, you need to come with me," Sean says in a hurried voice, frantic-like.
"What's the matter?" I say alarmed, "What the hell is the matter?"
"Just come with me, "he says, "You will see."
When we get to the back of the house, there is a high fence. There are noises emanating, loudly from behind the fence.
They sound like someone is being plummeted to death.
There are moans and screams.
"What is that?" I ask Sean.
"Look through the fence." He says frantically.
I do as he says and look between the latts of the fence and see something I have not seen since before I married Sean's aunt.
I peer between the spaces of the fence. On the diving pool of a rather large pool, I see Gerald fucking another man, a man I can only assume is the owner of the house.
Gerald long lean cock glistens in the light of the noon hour as it slides in and out of the tight hole of the handsome bottom guy that is taking his length into his dark interior regions.
The screams and moans are both of them entrenched in their own animal-like passions.
"Oh shit, "I say.
I am instantly intrigued, it was been a while since I have seen a man fuck another man, it has been weeks.
It has been even longer since I have done it.
I catch myself placing my hand on my cock, fondling myself.
I am transfixed.
"Uncle, what are we going to do?" Sean says.
I had forgotten he was beside me. "Oh shit," I think to myself.
I do not answer; I do not honestly know what we are going to do but I am not leaving my vantage point anytime soon.