We come through the door, finally home after a rather adventurous and all-telling trip to Alabama, interruptions and all.
"Honey, we're home," I yell out as we both enter my home in the corny way that the 1950s men did in the television shows of the time. They were false back then as they are now, when I repeated the same sentiments.
I turn to Sean, grimace, and look at him through starry-eyes.
"Wasn't that the shit?" I say, as I mocked a bygone era.
"It was the shit, Unc," he says.
I look down to see his bulge, which is quite pronounced from his arousal, where once I wondered what dangled between his long muscular legs, I no longer have to doubt, I know. I have felt his cock in the soft tight walls of my ass.
I know what is there now, as I have sampled and tasted it.
"You'd best lose that woody, junior," I say to him in a whispered tone.
"Oops," he says as he pushes down the tented-bulge in his loose low-hanging sport shorts.
Suddenly Mary comes barreling out from the back part of the house, the living room, and kisses me, excitedly, on the lips.
"About time y'all got back," she says, "Sean, Amber is waiting for you in the living room."
"My wife is here?" he says, shocked and surprised by his wife being in my house.
"Yes," she answers, tersely.
I look back at Sean, glancing over his body, looking to see his hard-on.
His has lost his hard-on; his bulge has disappeared as quickly as it had appeared.
His ego has been deflated too.
He bends his head, whipped, beaten-down, and defeated.
"Go see her son," I say, "make things right."
"Yes, sir," he says.
It is not what I wanted to say but it is the right thing to say.
"When did she get here Aunt Mary?" Sean asks his Aunt.
"About an hour ago," she says, "her mother dropped her off and then left. She had called and asked where you were. I told her, she rushed over when she knew you and Randy were nearly home. We have been talking discussing what has been going on with you two."
I turn to Sean, face him, face-to-face, and place my hand on his shoulder, in a fatherly fashion.
"Son, you go talk to your wife. Work things out and go home to her," I say.
I say these things, knowing I have the same type of secret from my wife that he does from his. We both have secrets from those we say we love in our lives. Secrets that could destroy what we have worked for and nurtured.
Sean has a young son.
I, however, do not. I have no one that will carry on my name. This is intentional on my part.
"I will Uncle," he says to me, the pressure of the situation is apparent upon his face.
In his eyes, I see confusion at my words. He knows what has transpired between us when we were in Alabama and Pensacola.
He walks into the living room, off from the kitchen, leaving his Aunt and me standing there wondering what is about to happen betwixt them two as they talk.
She touches me on my side and leans in to kiss me, her beloved.
"I hope they can work things out," she says.
"Me too," I say half-heartedly but I do not mean it.
Sean and Amber talk for over an hour. They come out, each hugging each other, seemingly appearing to have their problems resolved, worked-out and rehashed.
I am not quite so sure that it has been.
When they leave, arm-in-arm, Sean hugs his Aunt 'good bye.'
As he shakes my hand, he gives me a slight wink, when the women are not looking.
"I'll see you later, Unc," he says, "We have to start on that fabricated hood and go over the plans for the kitchen of Mr. Holmes."
"I'll see you at the shop later," I say, "We'll get to work on that and whatever else he wants."
As he walks away, I take a swing at his ass, a friendly pat, a gentle reminder of our time spent together.
Sean turns to me as I do this.
It is the first time I have ever done it.
Mary looks at me when I did it too, as did Amber.
"You and Sean have a 'bromance' going on now?" Mary asks jokingly.
Sean smirks at her notion of our 'man-love.'
Amber smiles but says nothing.
"I wouldn't call it that, I just have a new found respect for him after this trip," I say, "he added to the business. His help will make us more money on this job."
She smiles when I say this.
"...and you thought it was a bad idea to hire him, initially," she says.
"Yeah, I did," I say, "but I was wrong. I couldn't have done this job without him."
"I am glad," she says.
If she knew, exactly what he did and how he did it. She might not, well; she would not be quite as happy as she is now.
We walk into our house, as Sean and Amber leave in their restored 1977 red and white two-toned Chevrolet El Camino. It's his pride and joy; it belonged to his dad before he died. He restored its former mint condition, it is the only link to his father he has left.
I arrive at the shop, before Sean.
We plan to discuss, once Sean gets here, what was decided upon at the Alabama job and work out the particulars involved, what we will do and what the sub-contractor will do in the kitchen area.
Sean and I will handle the bulk of the job.
His input, his presence, will make us much money on this endeavor, and Neil really liked Sean, so I expect to reap bountiful profits.
His time spent with him and the added 'enthusiasm' of a young naked stud parading around with a swelled nearly busting cum-nut, will reap many benefits for Sean and me.
I am counting on it.
I walk into the shop; it is hot, filled with stifling, dry hot air, as the fans have not been on for a day or two, since it's the heat of summer, it sauna-like.
No one is here, now, I only employ four people that work out of my shop.
Sean, my nephew.
A fabricator named Reynolds. A damned tall specimen of a man that gets stares and gawks at his hulking masculine physique; he is quite a sight to behold. Quite a sight for a myriad of reasons but I digress.
An 18-year-old college freshman is a helper that I employ on occasion when I need more muscle and then there is myself.
Four people, it is all that make up my little well of profit, my business.
Four men, each one is very special in their own individual right.
It is a small operation but less outgoing means, more profits and I stay out of the red.
I strip off my T-shirt; sweat beads up on me, instantly, as I go over the kitchen plans for the Alabama job that I have laid out on the table.
The warehouse fan is whipping up only the hot air in the building. It will be a while before the heat dissipates somewhat.
The door buzzes as Sean walks in.
I have an alarm that lets all know when someone enters. It is a safety precaution and a warning notice.
"Hey boss," he says as he walks in," working naked now, uhh?"
"Naw, I am not," I say, "but it is not a bad idea though," I say.
I stand up, from my stool, drop my shorts, step out of my sweat-soaked cotton white briefs, and sit back down on the cold metal of the stool at the large table we use to lay out blueprints, leaving my boots laced-up and on my feet.
"So what are you waitin' for, boy, get naked," I say.
Sean pulls his wife-beater tank-top t-shirt over his head and drops his own basketball shorts, revealing his freeballing lazily resting cock on his groin, it moves as it is freed from its cloth-encased confinement.
"Mmm," I say, "you have one fine piece of ass, boy."
He leans his head down, conscience of his own nudity.
"Did you fuck Amber when you got home?" I ask.
He then fires back a question in retort to me.
"Did you fuck Aunt Mary after I left?" he asks me.
I do not know what to say, yet, but I get his meaning.
"Touché," I say.
"Yes, we fucked," he laughingly says, "I still have another load of cum in me, though, that I have not spent, maybe more."
He cups his cum heavy filled balls with both of his hands while he stands across from me in front of the table. The little rounds globes of man-juice are pulled up tight to his cock, he has replenished quickly from his fuck earlier and is ready to go at it again but men his age are ready to go again, within minutes, if they are not completely satisfied.
I grab my own flaccid cock and mock his actions, happily.
"I have more," he says.
"So do I," I say.
"Have you ever worked naked before boss?" Sean asks.
"No," I answer, "Why would I?"
"Have you ever wanted to?" he asks me.
"Yes, "I say, "but it has never availed itself to happen, until now, I think."
"You think we will be able to work naked in Alabama?" he asks.
"I think so," I say, "I think Neil would want us too, if he is there to watch us while you work in the kitchen."
"I do too."
As Sean says this, his cock springs to life at the possibility of working in the buff.
"Your cock seems to like this conversation, son," I say.
"I do," he says.
He grabs his rock-hard cock as sweat runs rivers down his bare-flesh from the hot humid shop.
Sean adds some spittle from his mouth and begins lubing-up his cock with his natural moisture and sweat.
"C'mere, let me get a taste of that, a taste of you," I say.
Sean walks around the table, in front of me, sits on the stool opposite of me, and spreads his legs, wide, openly welcoming me to his manhood, his treasure, his jewels.
"You want it?"
"Yes," I say, excitedly.
I bend down to take him fully into my mouth but he is too far away and the leaning down is not comfortable.
"Get up on the table, boy," I say, "I want your cock closer to my mouth and easier to swallow."
He climbs up onto the table, sitting with legs hanging down over the edge, his legs spread as I take him fully into my mouth. I smell the hint of the sex he had had with his wife as I nuzzle my nose into pubes as I suck his glorious member.
There is a sweat ring on the stool from his ass. The wet hair patterns of his ass on the chair show what a hairy ass he has. I want it. I want it bad.
"I smell her," I say.
The whiff of his wife's pussy juices in my nose startles me. I did not expect to smell her stench.
When I go down on a young buck's cock, I want to taste the man, not the latest pussy he has balled.
"I did not shower before I came here," he says, "Does it bother you? Her smell on my cock?"
He fires back at me in his defense.
"Did you shower after you fucked Aunt Mary?" he asks.
"Yes, I always shower after I fuck her, I want those fucking smells off me," I say, "I want that pussy smell gone."
"I like the sex to linger on me," he says," I want to know that I have been in a hot fuck session."
"Not me," I say, "I do not care to wear my fucking as a badge of honor or as a tally count of conquest or notches in my belt. I know when I do it. That's enough for me."
"I understand," he says, "but didn't you do it when you were younger, keep count."
"No, "I say, "I was confident in my sexual skills, I got what I wanted when I wanted it. I never had to fork out any bucks for it either when I needed to satisfy my hunger to fuck."
"You were quite the stud, huh, Unc," Sean says.
"I still am," I say, "your pecker does not hold a candle to what I can do. I guarantee it."
"Whatever you say, Unc," he says.
"It's not whatever I say, it's what I know, bud, remember that," I say, "don't doubt something when I say it. I say what I mean and mean what I say."
My arrogance is obvious on this.
I know what I know.
When I am actively pursuing something I want, I get it.
I did not have to work hard to get it either.
If I wanted a man, I got a man.
The same when it was a woman, if it was a woman. Although the pursuits of a woman were less, much less then the men I got.
I went through my stages when I bedded as many men as I did women.
Once I married, I solely kept my men, private.
I sleep with my wife, his aunt.
No one had to question my behavior, privacy is something I cherish above all else.
Sean's cock is a thing of beauty, a man so caught up in the pleasure of himself, that he cares little about the pleasure of others. Something should be done to teach him about what it means to please others.
The door buzzes but does not immediately open. There is a pause, which seems like an eternity, as I expected the visitor to be here much sooner.
"Who is that?" Sean says, alarmed at being caught with my head between his spread legs and his steel-hard cum-dripping cock in my mouth.
I do not answer as I am buried nose-deep on his man-root, in his pubes, which are tickling me as I indulge upon my meaty nephew.
I rise off his member.
"He's here," I say.
"Who's here?" Sean says, caught off guard and surprised.
"Reynolds," I say, matter-a-factly," he's right on time."
Sean gives me a bum-fuzzled puzzled dazed look.
"Why is he here?" Sean says with a tinge of anger. His time interrupted with me.
The door buzzes and opens.
"For playtime, boy," I say, "for playtime."