Date: Sun, 24 Sep 2017 09:03:53 +1000 From: Taylor Foxx [email protected] Subject: New Story - Gay Incest - Uncle Poppers - Chapter 1
Hey guys. This is just the prologue of a story I am thinking of writing. If you like this and think I should continue, please contact me and let me know what you want to happen next.
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The Mistake Text Message (Incest section) My Son's Friends (Incest section) A Dark Discovery (Interracial section w/ incest)
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Uncle Poppers | Part 1
by Taylor Foxx
I'd been looking forward to Uncle Tommy's visit for weeks. It had been a few years since I'd seen him, and while I was too young to remember much of his visit, I did remember one thing - it was FUN.
I remembered staying up late watching scary movies with him, eating ice cream, and playing MarioKart for what felt like days at a time without him even suggesting I take a nap. Uncle Tommy took his role as the "fun younger uncle" seriously - and seeing that I was his only nephew, he really went whole hog the last time we were together. I was sure this next time would be no different - though looking back, I couldn't have been more wrong. My next visit with Uncle Tommy was going to blow the last one out of the park, and change my world forever.
In the days leading up to his visit, I ran through the plan over and over, much to my Dad's annoyance. He was in a bad mood already, with the big conference coming up. His short temper just served as a reminder of how happy I was to have my uncle coming for a WHOLE WEEK! And not only that, but my boring, stuffy Dad wouldn't even be around to interrupt our fun, since he was gonna be out of town.
A week at my house with Uncle Tommy sounded amazing on its own, but I pretty much burst with excitement when my dad told me Uncle Tommy was going to take me camping for part of the week as well. I'd never been camping, but I was sure with Uncle Tommy around it would be lots of fun.
When Uncle Tommy finally arrived, I remember feeling surprised as I watched him through the window. From my vague memory of his last visit, Tommy had been around my father's age - but now I could see he was actually quite a bit younger. I later found out he was actually 10 years younger than my dad, which would have made him around around 35 at this point.
I also surprised myself but suddenly feeling nervous and shy. I wouldn't have been able to put it into words then, but now that I"m older I know what threw me for a loop - it's how damn handsome my uncle was. As a single bachelor, he had plenty of time to take care of his body - he was tall and well-built, with none of the bulk my own father had. Instead, he looked lean and powerful, and I couldn't take my eyes off his long arms and big hands - I'll never forget how they looked in his sleeveless shirt that morning. With a handsome, still somewhat boyish face and messy, curly hair a lot like my own, I was totally dumbstruck as a kid.
My shyness wore off, though, within a few hours after my Uncle had greeted me, told me how big I looked, and given me a noogie as well. Pretty soon I found myself blabbing away to him as I "helped" him carry his suitcase up to his room.
As we unpacked, he told me more about where we were headed for the weekend. "You're gonna love it, kiddo. It's got lots of awesome hiking trails, and a bunch of these neat little lakes - some of them even have caves around them."
"Caves?" I said. "WIth bears?"
My uncle flashed a big, white smile at me. "Nah, no bears in that part of the woods. Just other guys like us." And he winked at me.
Just as he said this, my uncle lifted up his mostly-empty suitcase to put it on the bed. As he did, I saw something small fall out of the side pocket
My uncle didn't seem to notice, and so I quickly reache ddown to snatch it up. "What' this?" I said.
My uncle turned around smiling, but when he saw what I was holding, his smile vanished, and he snatched the bottle out of my hands so quickly that it scared me a little.
"Whoa there, partner," he said. "That's not for you."
"But what it is it?" I said. I immediately was fascinated - I knew well enough that when adults were secretive like that, usually what they were hiding was pretty interesting. Like the way my dad always hid away his favorite types of cookies so I wouldn't eat them.
"It's uh...adult...stuff," my uncle stammered. "Not for you. Just...don't worry about it. Hey...what do you say we go down to the garage and check out your camping gear?"
My uncle's distraction worked. I forgot all about that little brown bottle until later, two days into our camping trip. I'd already decided that it was the best week of my life. The weather was perfect, and so far me and Uncle Tommy had gone canoeing and swimming, we'd built a fire together and cooked hot dogs and marshmallows both nights. We'd even danced to some of Uncle Tommy's favorite music, which I didn't like to much, but the dancing late at night was fun.
The night of "the incident," I'd stayed up late begging Uncle Tommy to tell me a ghost story. He'd been reluctant, but he'd also been drinking. I'd seen my dad drunk a few times, enough to know it made men kinda silly. Uncle Tommy wouldn't let me have a sip of his beer (ironic, seeing what we'd be doing in just a few short hours), but he did finally give in and tell me one hell of a scary story.
Which is how we ended up snuggled so close that night in the tent. It was cold, but I was also freaked out from the story - and in all honest, I probably wanted to be close to Uncle Tommy more than I wanted to admit. He wore PJ bottoms and no shirt, and cuddled up against his warm body, the scary story pretty much vanished from my mind, and I was asleep in no time.
I don't know how much later it was when Uncle Tommy woke me up - thought not on purpose. I woke to the sound of the zipper to the sleeping bag slowly unzipping, and I mumbled a bit in my sleep as I felt the cold air replace Uncle Tommy's body heat.
I kept my eyes closed, figuring Uncle Tommy was just stepping out to pee. But to my surprise, he didn't leave the tent. I rolled over and squinted in the darkness, curious to know what my uncle was up to. I saw him rummaging through his bag, and then he turned to me again. I shut my eyes just in time - he must have thought I was still sleeping.
Not wanting to risk him catching me spying, I kept my eyes closed and listened. I heard Uncle Tommy grunt a bit as he adjusted himself, then the sound of cloth and the rustle of the tent. The next noise I heard really didn't register - a light tinkling, like a small piece of metal pinging against glass. Then I heard the distinc sound of something being unscrewed.
Then a strange smell hit my nose - faint, but totally foreign compared to the natural smells around me - the trees, the smoke from the recently extinguised fire, the smell of my Uncle's manly scent that made me feel so relaxed. The new smell was entirely different - it was a strong, chemical smell. It reminded me of the smell that came when my babysitter put on he nail polish.
I ignored the smell as best I could and listened more. Soon I heard the sound of rubbing flesh, and then a deep inhale - my uncle was breathing heavily through his nose. More rubbing flesh, and then I heard the sound of something being screwed back on - and then my uncles voice in a loud whisper, "Oh shit!"
Suddenly the chemical smell became A LOT stronger, and I felt my head start to spin. I still kept my eyes closed, mostly because I was instantly insanely dizzy.
"Oh fuck, oh shit," I heard Uncle Tommy say under his breath as he fumbled in the darkness. Then I heard the sound of wiping, and after a few minutes of that, I felt the zipper come undone, and my Uncle's body warmth returned. Though this time, it felt like he had a flashlight or something else in bed with us, pressed up against me.
Looking back, I wonder now if my Uncle thought about waking me up and taking me out of the tent. Did he consider what it might do to me, breathing in those fumes all night, pressed up against him and his adult erection. But there's no way he could know how far it would go. Surely...
He certainly seemed a bit worried the next morning, when he woke me up for breakfast. His first question was, "How are you feeling? Sleep ok?" I couldn't help but notice the concern etched on his face as he spooned out some eggs onto a plate for me.
"I'm good!" i said cheerfully. And it was the truth. My dad wasn't much of a cuddler, so the opportunity to spend the night snuggling with my fun (and sexy) uncle had been great. The chemical smell had been weird, but it hadn't bothered my sleep - in fact, I remember feeling particularly well-rested that morning, despite the scary stories and late-night incident.
Of course, I also had no idea what had happened. I've pieced it all together now, but back then, I didn't know a thing about masturbating OR poppers...how could I?
Which is why I had no qualms asking almost immediately. "What happened last night, Uncle Tommy? What was that smell?"
My question shocked Uncle Tommy, who inhaled a piece of egg and spent the next minute coughing as i giggled at him.
When he finally caught his breath, he said, "Did you...did you uh? Did you see what happened?"
"No...I was mostly sleeping," I said, which wasn't a lie. "But that smell...what was it?"
"It was...it was..."
As my uncle fumbled for words, my little brain somehow put two and two together, and I realized that the sounds I'd heard last night were the same sounds I'd heard when that strange bottle fell out of my uncle's suitcase a couple days earlier.
"The bottle!" I said. "Was it that bottle you said is just for adults?"
My uncle turned beet red. I can't imagine what was going through his head. He quickly changed the subject again, suggesting a swim in the lake. But this time, I wasn't so easily distracted - I was now intensely curious, and I spent the rest of the day bringing up "the brown bottle" whenever I could.
Throughout our morning swim/bath, our afternoon hike, and lunch, I whined on and on, begging my uncle to tell me more. Eventually I started to tell him I liked the smell, that I wanted to smell it again. This wasn't exactly true - the smell had been a little scary. But it was true that I liked the way it made me feel, and that I despeately wanted to know more.
I could tell, too, that when I said I liked it, it caught my Uncle's interest. By that time he'd been ignoring my questions, but as soon as I said I liked it, he immediately said, "You did?"
By the time we were building our fire for the night, I was finallly getting somewhere. I was a pro at this - asking questions over and over until the adults told me what i wanted to know. It was how I'd found out that my dad was the tooth fairy. And apparently it worked well on Uncle Tommy, because pretty soon, he was giving me the details.
"it's uh...sorta like a special perfume. For men. Not all men though. Just some."
"So you wear it?" I said, sucking sticky marshmallow off my fingers.
"No...you definitely don't put it on. You just sniff it. And it makes you feel good."
"It made me feel good!" I chriped.
"What....what do you mean?" my uncle said, eyeing me suspiciously.
"The smell," I said. "It made me feel good. Like kinda..."
"Relaxing?" my uncle said, swallowing hard.
"Yeah! And.."
"Excited?" he said again.
"Yeah! Exactly!" I said.
There was a pause, then, as we both stared at the fire.
"So why do you sniff it?" I said.
My uncle sighed. He must have been hoping I'd drop it. But he didn't protest, either. I could tell I'd gotten his attention with my last few comments.
"Because...well, there's something men like me do. Most men. You'll do it too, when you're older. It's really fun and really...good for you. Healthy. And that little brown bottle, it makes that sorta thing feel like...waaaay better."
I looked up at him curiously.
"You'll understand when you're older," my uncle said, seeing my confused expression.
"Sometimes...Daddy said to understand something you just need the right words."
"That sounds like your dad, the big nerd!" my uncle said, flashing me his big grin. It made me laugh so hard when he talked about my dad like that.
"But I'm serious!" I said, whining a bit again. "if you teach me the words of what you're talking about, maybe I could understand."
My uncle didn't say antyhing for a while, and again we returned to meditate on the fire. Then, finally, out of nowhere, my Uncle Tommy said...
"Poppers. The little brown bottle is called poppers."
"Poppers," i repeated. "Ok. And what about the other thing?"
"What other thing?" my uncle said, his voice barely a whisper. Why did he seem so nervous?
"The thing I'll do when I'm older. The healthy thing!"
"Oh. That. That's called....um...jerking off. Or masturbating."
"Mastur...b..."
"Just say jerking off," Uncle Tommy said, smiling despite himself. "It's easier."
"Jacking off. Ok...so what is it? When will I get to learn about it?"
Uncle Tommy grabbed a big stick and stirred the fire a bit, making the logs tumble on one another, sending sparts up into the night air.
"Well," he said. "I could show you right now, if you want."