Alice My Uncle & Me

This continues the account of the third of five days and nights that studly 18 year old Mikey spends together with Mike, the 24-year old uncle he idolizes, and Mike's fascinating and beautiful 22-year old fiancée Alice. The beginning of their story is told in "Cross-Country with My Uncle," and continued by "Alice, My Uncle, and Me," day 1 and day 2.

The only way that Mike, as a key employee, could get away from work for more than two weeks was that he agree to monitor his email and to call in as often as he could. So while he took a while to log in and deal with his mail, Allie and I went for a bike ride. I took Mike's bike, and of course it fit me perfectly. There was a very pleasant bike route that went through some woodlands and along Los Trancos Creek. It was great to get out, and especially with Allie. She was a highly competent cyclist and took the hills with grace and ease. It was easy to maintain a conversation, riding abreast.

"Mikey," she said, "I think I know, but I want to hear it from you. What's wrong?"

She was an unusually astute observer, and she had detected that I was a more than a little uneasy.

"Uh, Allie, it's sort of hard to talk about..."

"Try me, Kiddo."

"Well, to be frank, in a few hours something is going to happen that I sort of dread -- even fear a little bit. About 2 pm Mike and I will be picking up Jeff at the airport, prior to tonight's bachelor party."

"Yeah, I thought that's what it was. But Mikey, don't worry. I promise you everything is going to come out just fine. I know Mike. I really, really know him."

My concerns -- my dread, even my fear -- were focused upon Jeff Jackson, the one man in the world of whom I was deeply jealous. Jeff was for almost four years my uncle's teammate, roommate, closest friend and, I felt, almost certainly, his lover. During his entire four years at Stanford my uncle had played second base and Jeff shortstop for the Cardinals. It was a classic of teamwork. Once they were starters (and that came soon), game after game, it was Jackson to Burlington to Stone (on first). In two seasons, they led the NCAA in double plays turned. It was a thing of beauty to watch them. I had only seen them play a couple of times together -- except for their appearance in the NCAA College World Series when they were juniors, which of course was all over ESPN2.

They were assigned together as roommates in their freshman year, and within a very few days it was as if they were brothers; and they continued to live together until they graduated. (How they first met, and the exact kind of relationship they sustained during the years they roomed together, is a story for another time.)

Mike had brought Jeff home for part of the Christmas holidays when he was a sophomore, and that's when I first met him. He was hugely impressive. He was 6 feet and one-half inch tall, and the very picture of an athlete: trim, but with broad shoulders, big arms and legs, and an animal grace. He was also incredibly handsome, with a very striking face: beautiful dark eyes, thick dark hair -- which he kept neatly cropped; a beautiful chin and firm jaw, that always seemed stubbly even just a few hours after he'd shaved closely. His thick dark eyebrows lent an unusual animation to his face, which in any case would have stopped traffic. He was a major babe!

He was from Pine Ridge, Texas, in the Big Thicket region, and he hated to wear long pants. It was always that way where he grew up, in subtropical Southeast Texas; and later in the mild Palo Alto area long pants were rarely necessary. But probably his aversion to long pants had something to do with the fact that he had the most insanely gorgeous legs ever seen: muscular and remarkably well-formed; but covered evenly with a rich coat of dark hair, the same hair that covered his forearms and belly. In this respect he was the dark twin to Mike, whose large and graceful limbs were so notably covered in crisp, blond hair.

If you listened to Jeff speak in his soft, but cultivated, East Texas accent you might easily underestimate him. Like Mike, he got virtually top scores on his SATs, and he was the top student in his school; but unlike Mike, who is remarkably clever, extremely well-informed, and who has a deep innate understanding of personalities, Jeff was a genuine intellectual, drawn to the world of ideas in a way in which the highly pragmatic Mike would never be. It was no surprise that while Mike became a computer engineer, and one of the most promising in the nation, on graduation Jeff went toYale with an important fellowship awarded by their Philosophy department, and he has been their prize student for the last two years. What might surprise some was that despite their differing approaches to the greater world around them, Mike and Jeff were remarkably sympathetic.

And that's why I dreaded his arrival. I was quite rabidly jealous of this god-like creature who had not only been the closest of teammates on a club which covered itself in glory, thanks in significant measure to their deadly double-play action -- and to the impressive offensive stats the two of them racked up year after year; but also they were the closest of friends, and day after day, night after night, month after month, year after year, Jeff had lived in closest intimacy with Mike, the uncle I had idolized every day of my life. Of course I hated him.

But Allie said, "Don't worry. Despite your life-long closeness with your uncle, in a significant way you do not quite understand him. He is far bigger, far more powerful, far more expansive than you give him credit for. That's why I can share him with you. There's so much of him. I have perfect confidence that in sharing him with you, I do not diminish or threaten my relationship whatsoever with him; in fact I deepen and enrich it. I know that at his very core he loves you very much. It's a love different from, but in many ways very similar to, the love he bears me. And these last seven days have immeasurably enriched and strengthened the love he has for you: I know. We've talked extensively and quite specifically about it. And in addition, I have come to love you more than I could have imagined. In part, just for yourself: you are a remarkable young man, quite wonderful in every way, particularly in your character; but in part, because you are so very much like your uncle, and all the things that make me love him so desperately make me love you too; and most of all, because loving you is another profoundly important thing that Mike and I share."

Allie said this in a kindly, but quite matter-of-fact way. Did she not know what a huge power her words were having on me? Actually, of course, she did. She knew exactly the effect that she was producing, and honestly, these words, offered so prosaically and unaffectedly, pierced my heart in a way that no sentimental assurance could ever have done. I felt suddenly light-headed, and I even doubted for a moment if it were safe for me to continue to bike! But even in my moment of physical weakness, I felt as if my soul had expanded like a mushroom cloud.

Allie continued: "There's room for both you and me in Mike's great heart; and when the time comes, there'll be room there for our kids; and eventually for their kids too. It's not a zero-sum game. There's room there too for Jeff. I think they will always love each other, but, unfortunately for Jeff, his soul is not constructed in such a magnificent way as Mike's is; and he has a need for an exclusive possession of Mike's core that Mike can never concede, and Jeff is therefore doomed to frustration. This became very evident when I came on the scene. Mike had dated one Stanford cutie after another, and believe me, none of them had oatmeal between the ears, either! Jeff was unfazed. He knew he was closer to Mike's heart than any of them, with their teamwork, their deep sympathy, and their ever-growing shared experience, and I know that their sex was hot, very, very hot."

"But when Mike met me, something different clicked. Hey, I don't know, it was some kind of Vulcan mind meld or something. It was a first time thing for me, and, Mike says, for him. So for the first time in years Jeff was not Mike's number one, and it was devastating to him. Unfortunately for all three of us, instead of our coming to an accommodation, especially possible in view of the fact that Mike was so unlimited, so boundless in his personality and makeup, Jeff could not help himself, and in his jealousy he conceived a dislike for me that has deeply damaged their relationship in a way in which it will be difficult to repair. Mike and I have spent hours and hours and hours talking about this. It has been the single gravest tragedy in his life. But it's beyond Mike's powers to make it right all by himself. Most of the changing necessarily has to come from Jeff. In time we both hope it will; at present, it has not yet developed."

"So on two fronts, let me reassure you: First, there is room in Mike's heart not only for you and for me but also for Jeff; you'll never be diminished by any passion that Mike feels for Jeff. And second, right now, despite everything, Jeff is still unable to reconcile himself to Mike's love for me; and if he knew of its depth and significance, of Mike's love for you as well. And as long as this unhappy condition subsists, Jeff sadly cannot resume his place in Mike's heart of hearts."

"And, knowing Mike as I do, what I urge you with every fiber of my being is to let your anxiety, your jealousy, your fear of Jeff just dissipate, evaporate. Greet him as a friend and a brother, someone with whom you share a great and good thing, a love for Mike. That is the best way to help Mike, help Jeff, and most of all help yourself."

When we returned to Alice's house, I excused myself to give Steve a call in Cheyenne. We talked for about half an hour. By the time I got off the phone, Alice had already headed out to the airport to pick up her cousin from Tucson and her old college roommate.

Mike and I were due at the airport ourselves in a little over two hours. Mike said, "Ready for a shower?" and of course I was! Alice's shower was a little larger than standard, but still quite compact for two big guys together. Oddly, now that I thought of it, it had been five days since he and I had been alone together, and we really enjoyed the time together under the warm prickly spray. My uncle was gorgeous 24/7, but never more so than in the shower. Wet, and lying against his skin, his dark blonde body hair looked even thicker and denser, whether it was the great mat on his chest, or the dense, gradually widening trail down his abs to his pubes. The golden hair on his arms also seemed heavier, denser, and thicker when wet, as did the hair on his legs, extending from his butt right down to his ankles. After his recent haircut, only his much-reduced forelock streamed down his forehead, but it was so fetching. His body was perfection itself in its proportions and even development. He looked like a slightly beefed up Apollo Praxiteles.

From the dense forest of pubic hair, matted and darkened by the water, his big heavy penis stood free, not erect, just full and fat, and incredibly beautiful, resting on his large, heavy balls.

It was the greatest of pleasures to soap him up, all over, from his ankles and highly defined calves, right up to the crack of his butt, and from his slim hips and waist up to his flaring shoulders. And his big arms, his powerful neck, his big chest, and rippling abs, and finally between his legs. I held his big cock in my hands and soaped it, while he looked on at me kindly and lovingly, as it filled and stiffened and rose right out of my hands to cleave to his hairy belly.

He soaped me too. My arms and legs were as hairy as his, but, though ropy with muscles, they were not as bulky and powerful-seeming as his. And while my belly was very hairy, it was not quite so thickly thatched as his. To my enduring pride, however, my cock and balls, however, were virtually identical to his very impressive genitals, and this was true whether we were flaccid or terminally erect. One day (I hoped and dreamed) my chest would be as big and fine as his, and as manfully matted as his; but at barely 18 I had yet some growth and development to go.

We rinsed, luxuriously, and as we turned this way and that to get every body part under the single nozzle, we touched again and again. When my hugely erect penis brushed against his, Mike put his arms around me, pulled me against his body, so that our cocks were tangent, and he tilted his head just a little to his left and began the most sybaritic kiss I had ever experienced. We were virtually the same height, and so there was no need for either of us to crane his neck. He started with his lips brushing, just slightly, against mine; and then, loosening his embrace somewhat, he put his big right hand on my left shoulder, lightly, and nibbled my lower lip very gently. He pressed his lips a little more firmly to mine, and then he reduced the pressure a little, and just then the very tip of his tongue parted my lips every so slightly, and then it receded. The next time his tongue manifested itself, it was a little more aggressive, and it sought out mine. Mike placed his right hand behind my head the better to hold and secure it as his tongue invaded my mouth. And then it was back to his nibbling on my lip, ever so gently as we slowly, slowly turned under the warm shower. Since I loved Mike more than life itself, it seemed, I was in a trance, a state of stupefaction as he continued his ever-inventive, ever-new osculation.

Mike released me and turned off the water, and then grasped my right hand in his, and he led me out of the shower, and using the big, thick cotton bath sheets we toweled each other off, and once again Mike seized my right hand and led me to Alice's bed. With a sweep of his arm he directed me to lie down upon it, and he lay down beside me, in the opposite direction, with his head at my crotch, and his crotch at my head. And he gently stroked my belly and chest for just a minute, hardly more. Then supporting himself on his left arm, he planted his right hand across my body on the bed to the right of my right thigh; and with his left knee above my left shoulder, he planted his right knee on the other side of my head, so that his big balls hung just over my face, and his stiff cock rode just above my lips. Maneuvering very gracefully, and supporting himself on his left hand and arm, he used his right hand to seize my cock and introduce my cockhead into his lips, and he swirled his tongue over and around my flaring glans, my cock now totally rigid with urgency. He was in no haste whatsoever. With my phallus between his lips, he used his right hand to cup and fondle my balls. Moving his head up and down, he took not only my cockhead but a good portion of my shaft as well into his mouth.

Meanwhile, tilting my head upward, and assisting a bit with my hand, I was able to place my lips on his great cock, and I caressed the head with my lips and my tongue, and even as Mike was enveloping my phallus in his mouth. Because I did not have a great deal of space available to move my head, Mike very gently and delicately flexed his hips just a bit up and then s.l.o.w.l.y down, so that he was very carefully fucking my face.

Anyone who has tried this specific form of sex knows that it can be a very powerful symbol, a symbol of intense reciprocity, and, perhaps, depending upon the circumstances, of deep love. And I knew that that was Mike had intended. That dear Allie had told him of my anxiety about Jeff, and that this was his way of reassuring me.

As soon as Mike had invited me to shower with him, my heart had risen in my chest; and his kiss was still a new and more comforting reassurance; and now this, this artful and awkward sixty-nine, something that we had never before attempted in this particular way. But anyone who has tried this specific school figure knows that for two guys with really large and really stiff cocks, it is a somewhat frustrating scheme for achieving real mutual satisfaction of the highest order.

So once Mike had deeply gratified me with the symbolism, he flipped himself back to the position from which he started, so that we were side by side, my feet toward his head, his feet toward mine. He scooted a little to his left, so that our hips were tangent, and raised my right leg and laid it across his chest. Grabbing the bottle of lube from the bedside table he poured a generous quantity into his right hand and he grasped my cock near the base. I held out my right hand to him and he squirted a good mess of lube into my palm, and thereupon I grasped his cock, and for the next twenty minutes we slowly, generously, reciprocally pleasured one another, slow and fast, fast and slow, using perhaps half a dozen different arabesques of swirls and pulls. As much as I had loved Mike before, now the feeling was still more intense. From my current perspective, my life before last week now seemed as if it had been nothing but a Sahara of barrenness and frustration.

Finally (because we were soon due at the airport), Mike shifted to a steadier pace of stroking and in two more minutes we were suddenly done; and since I had taken my lead from Mike, we arrived at climax together, a very delightfully messy event.

Covered with Mike's cum and mine, and the greasy-feeling lube, the simplest thing to do was to jump into the shower together again, which we did, but now there was no time for any funny business, as we rushed to get ready. Fortunately, with our new haircuts it was very easy to towel off and simply jump into our shorts and tee shirts.

Jeff's plane was on time and, per our arrangement, Mike and I waited for him at the luggage carrousel. Mike smiled broadly as Jeff approached, and he almost trotted toward him, clasping him in his arms, and hugging him hard and tight and long. And he kissed Jeff's ear and then his cheek, and then, releasing him from his bear hug, he took Jeff's face in his two hands and kissed him directly, if briefly, on the lips. Tears coursed down Jeff's incredibly handsome face, and, as they embraced again, I could see wetness on Mike's cheeks too. "I've missed you, man," was all that Mike could say at first. Almost at the point of choking, Jeff forced out, "Me too."

As they stepped back toward me, Mike said, "Jeff, You remember my nephew Mikey." Jeff looked me over appraisingly and said, "It's been a few years, Mikey, since I saw you last, and they've been good to you. I don't recall you're being taller than me before. You've really filled out. And, wow, it's spooky how much you look like your uncle."

Though they kept in touch by phone and email, there was still a great deal of catching up to do. About the wedding, Mike's work, Jeff's studies, life at Yale, and so forth.

From the airport we drove directly back to Mike's apartment, about a mile away from Alice's place. For the last few months, he had, all but technically, lived at Alice's; but he did maintain his old place where he kept clothes, books, a pretty impressive array of computers and electronics, most of his sports equipment, and so forth. Jeff would be staying there until Sunday after the wedding.

Mike had earlier this morning told Alice that he didn't know when the bachelor party was going to be over, "But," he said, "it'll almost certainly be very late, and so instead of waking you up, Mikey and I'll plan to spend the night at my place tonight, and ..."

"...And," Alice smoothly interrupted, finishing his sentence as she sometimes did, "you and Jeff'll fuck yourselves silly."

"Well, yes," said Mike. "I want to, and I'm sure he wants to."

"And to tell the truth," Alice said, "I want you to also. It'll be good for you and, very, very good for him."