My Uncle Tony

 When I was a young Uncle Tony was the Uncle that I was told not to spend too much time around, especially since he had been to prison, which of course had the opposite effect. I felt drawn to him, the rebel, the rule breaker, the bad boy with charisma and charm who had been locked up in clink.

 I would just sit at his flat and watch him in awe, 5’8” with short cropped brown hair, and slim face with eyes that had a hardened look. I would listen to the constant flow of vulgar language and mimic him, much to his amusement. He was incredibly lean and ripped, his slender upper torso a canvas of brightly coloured ink that I would admire as he walked around in nothing more than skimpy bikini briefs, my gaze more than just occasionally going to his bulky man bulge that filled the thin worn fabric pouch.

There had been many a time when he would get home from work to find me already at his bedsit apartment, skiving from school, sat in my uniform, and he would strip off his construction site work gear right there in front of me, and then walk around in nothing but those small ole briefs of his, the narrow waistband frayed at the edges, the elastic often gone allowing them to drop down lower than they should, especially at the rear, exposing a portion of crack as the damp fabric stuck up between his butt cheeks where his hole was, his hand often rummaging around inside the front pouch as he chatted to me, pulling and tugging on his equipment as if he wanted my attention drawn to his crotch, and my face blushing crimson red every time I thought he had caught me looking.

 If that was not enough to get my heart racing there were times he would take off his skimpy briefs too. Peel them down as he faced me and kick them away, his big man-sized junk swinging from side to side with low hanging balls swinging beneath, as I pretended not to be taking much notice. Stood stark naked right there in front of me, tugging down on sweaty bollocks, or pulling on loose droopy foreskin as if taunting me, daring me to look, which of course I did out of curiosity, as surreptitiously as possible, all the while fearing what I felt simmering inside.

 There was this one time he had gotten home from work on a particular hot summer day, he immediately stripped off his work gear and paraded around in those skimpy underpants, and pretty  soon those came off too. “Did you see my new tattoo?” he asked as he stood right in front of me, edging closer with flaccid uncut fat schlong dangling like a lure.
 
He points to his pubic bone, a bright shiny tattoo with colours still crisp, a large patch of pubic hair shaved away. “What do you fuckin’ think?” he asks as he leans in even closer, his thick floppy manhood now just inches away from my face, musky scent of unwashed cock drifting up into my nostrils.

 I respond with a stutter “y.. yeah it, it looks really g... g... g... great”

“I wasn’t asking about my fuckin’ cock you queer cunt” he says bluntly, giving it a good tug before raising his fingers to his nose and taking a whiff. I don’t think I could feel more embarrassed as I did in that moment, his cock hovering right in my face as I etched every minute detail of every vein, pore and blemish into my mind.

He gives me a swift slap on the back of the head as he gives a sadistic laugh “just fuckin teasing you lad is all. I know you aren’t really a poofter” and then he steps back, smirking at me, his hand going back to man junk and tugging it yet again. It is like he knows I lust after him, and knows I have had wet dreams about him, his cock becomes plump as if proof as he smirks at me, cock jutting out a little as he physically handles himself, scrutinising my reactions with narrowed eyes.

And there I am, just like a scared rabbit in headlights, motionless, unable to look away as he begins to get hard whilst I watch. Captivated by strong hand gripping growing cock.

 Then he gives another evil sadistic laugh and backs off into the bathroom before slamming the door and shouting “I am just going to have a quick wank”

 I wonder if it is an invite, but surly if that was the case he would have left the door ajar. I can hear him groaning, he is making no secret of his masturbatory pleasure, deep gasping breaths punctuated by “fuck yeah” as if he wants me to hear, as if he is getting off on me hearing him.

 I look down and see his briefs on the floor, pale blue and a little threadbare. Like all of his underwear they have seen better days, and I bet he has been wearing them more than one or two days on the trot. I pick them up as I listen to his continued gasps and groans, hearing him moaning “fuck” a few more times as I closely analyse the fabric at the pouch, still warm to the touch, the material stretched and worn from where his big cock has been pressed.

 “Oh yeah fuck come on” I hear him say loudly through closed bathroom door, and some primal instinct drives me to raise the pouch to my face, covering my nose and mouth and inhaling deeply on his potent stench. The rich ingrained odour of cock and balls so strong at first that I retch a little, but I hold them firmly in place, pushed against my face as I feel surges of arousal that make my cock twitch with pleasure.

“Oh fuck yes... yes... yes I am going to cum... Oh my fucking god yes” he shouts, his voice deep and manly.

I take one last deep inhale with my eyes closed before tossing them to the floor. The door swings open and he steps out, his face flushed as he grins from ear to ear, his cock only just starting to lose its rigidity, a long drizzle of cum hanging from piss slit like a creamy white stalactite.

“Shit I needed that” Uncle Tony says with a deep guttural gasp, picking up his underpants and using them to wipe away the dripping cum as his loose balls jiggle about, and then discarding the underpants, throwing them so that they land on the floor by my side of the couch. He wonders off to the kitchen, and nervously I pick them up and bundle them in my pocket for later, glancing over to see he has his back to me, and finding my attention on his perfectly rounded plump buttocks.

“Do you want coffee or tea?” Uncle Tony asks calmly, as if nothing that has happened is out of the ordinary...