Say Uncle 2

All my stories take place in a parallel world, very similar to our own, where STI’s do not exist, so my stories are filled with practices that are highly unsafe in this world. I’m not going to say don’t try this at home, but take care of yourself.

All my characters are of legal age, and you should be, too—do not read my stories if you are under the legal age in your country/area. Any resemblance to real persons, locations, or events is entirely coincidental.

This story is brought to you by my wonderful Patrons. I love you guys!

And now, our feature presentation...

---CHAPTER ONE---

Nathan, my best friend since second grade stood above me in the locker room. He cornered me after class, when I thought everyone else was gone already, and now he had me on my knees. His hands were on my shoulders, holding me down, my eyes level with his crotch. He was only wearing his jock, and I could tell he was getting hard behind the flimsy pouch. My eyes were drawn to it, but I couldn’t let him know how much I wanted it. He was my best friend! “Come on, dude, suck it,” he commanded. I looked up, my eyes sliding from his crotch over his torso, his abs lightly defined and his chest just starting to bulk up, to his face. His expression was hard to place. Amused? Knowing? Certainly superior... It was like he was calling me a faggot with his eyes. My gaze settled on his crotch again, my tongue darting out to brush across my lips.

“No, I’m not... I’m not gay...” but I didn’t look away, and he knew it. He closed the space between us, bringing his crotch closer to my face.

“You were getting fucked by Coach Carr in the chem. lab, faggot; we all know you love dick, so stop pretending.” The world shifted.

I was belly-down on one of the cold, dark tables in the chemistry lab, my naked torso sweat-glued to the tabletop. My legs were suspended in the air, gripped in strong hands, parted, wrapped around Coach Carr’s strong hips. He slammed forward, a sudden thrust all the way in, and I groaned as my cock bounced in the gap between my hips and the table, trails of precum splashing onto the side of it and sliding slowly toward the tan tiles of the floor. I snapped out of it.

“That’s not what you think it was!” I tried to argue with Nathan without looking away from his erection, not sure myself what else it could have been. I licked my lips again. “I’m not a... a... fag.”

“Dude, I was there. Coach fucked you, and you came all over yourself... it’s kind of obvious you liked it.” He took a short pause, reaching down and groping his bulge as he added, “Faggot.”

I groaned. The world shifted.

The door slammed open. I could feel Coach Carr pause, half way out of my ass, as a herd of my classmates walked in. The sound faded quickly, individual voices rising above the falling cacophony to deliver their own commentary.

“Coach is fucking Phelps!”

“The fuck?!?”

“Stanny’s a fag!”

“Holy shit.”

Coach gripped my legs tighter, his cock jerking around my insides to the rhythm of the same lewd commentary that had painted my face red. I heard him let out a resigned, “Fuck...” Then he slid all the way back into me as he leaned forward to whisper in my ear.

“Looks like we’re busted, kid. We might as well go out with a bang and give them a good show.” Out, in. Out, in. Out, in. My face turned a previously undiscovered shade of red when I realized that I was moaning out loud in front of half my class. I couldn’t stop. My moaning seemed even louder as all the voices died down, everyone just watching. I heard the shutter sound from a cellphone camera, and looked around to see a number of phones out, snapping pictures.

Coach had been fucking me for a couple of weeks, but never like this. He was pounding into me, taking me to new heights of pleasure. It felt like I had no control of my body; I was nothing but a lewd puppet, and he was grasping my strings and jerking me around to his will.

I couldn’t stop moaning.

I couldn’t stop pushing back.

I couldn’t stop my dick from bouncing up, rigid, and shooting cum all over the side of the lab table when I felt coach start to cum, deep inside me.

“The fag’s cumming from getting fucked...”

“Look at the queer...”

“Can’t fucking believe my eyes...”

“What a slut...”

“Dickworshipper...”

“Faggot...” The voices were blending together, adding another layer to my humiliation as my balls drained down the side of the table, my ass jerking around Coach’s hard shaft.

My knees pressed into the locker room floor. My face pressed into my best friend’s crotch. I took a deep breath without meaning to, getting turned on by the smell of him. My eyes were closed, my body shaking; embarrassed; anticipating. He pulled back, and then his cock slapped against my left cheek, dragged across my lips, and thunk’d heavily against my right cheek.

“Stan, bro, no straight guy likes getting fucked like that. You can stop lying, now. We all know.” His cock slid into my mouth, and I surrendered to him and started sucking...

My eyes snapped open, face flushed, and I could feel myself cumming in my jeans. I concentrated on staying quiet, orgasm fogging my mind. Where was I? The pleasure started to fade, and I looked down at the wet spot on my jeans, and then around the bus. I blushed when I noticed one guy watching me, a crooked smile on his face, but nobody else was looking. I thought back on the past few weeks and the events that had put me in this seat.

First, I was caught getting fucked by Coach Carr; that was hard enough for my parents--they had started praying over me every night, begging God not to let me be a faggot. The problem was that the whole school already knew. They had SEEN how good getting fucked made me feel, and they were taking advantage of me.

I got caught again before two weeks had past, splayed over a bench in the locker room with a dick in both ends. The guys fucking me didn’t get in trouble, after all, “boys will be boys,” the principal pointed out. I tried so hard to be a good son, to be different than what I was, and to ignore my body, but my classmates already knew I wanted it, and they wouldn’t take no for an answer.

The third time I got caught, my parents kicked me out. They had warned me that, if it happened again, I wouldn’t be welcome in the house anymore. I knew that, even as the principal walked in on me blowing the school custodian. I tried to get out of it by sucking him off, or letting him fuck me, but he didn’t let me and called my parents instead.

Now, I was on my way to live with my uncle, who I barely knew. I’d only seen him a couple of times a year at family holidays in the past, but the past few years he hadn’t even made it to those... It felt so awkward, but there was nobody else for me to turn to. He didn’t really know much about what had happened, and since I was going to be in a new city where nobody knew, I just said that mom and dad had kicked me out for coming out as gay... he didn’t need to know it was really because I kept getting caught fucking at school. I was hard again, behind my cum-soaked denim, when the bus arrived. The guy who had noticed my wet dream kept giving me knowing looks and groping himself when only I was looking. I felt like crawling over and blowing him. Uncle Colton was waiting for me when the bus stopped. I grabbed my bag and got in his car, leaving the guy from the bus looking disappointed. The drive home from the station passed in silence.

The first thing I noticed when I walked into Uncle Colt’s house was the smell; it smelled funny... No, not funny... Good. It smelled good. I found myself breathing deeper, feeling light headed, as he gave me the grand tour. It was a nice, three bedroom house. The downstairs bedroom was his office, so he took me upstairs and showed me his room first.

“And last, but not least, this will be your room.” Uncle Colt pushed the door open and my jaw dropped. There was a king sized bed up against the right wall that looked comfortable as hell. Right across from the door was a desk with a computer on it. Not just a computer, the coolest computer I’d ever seen. I gaped at it. It looked like a custom build.

“Just a welcome home present. It’ll be easier to catch up at your new school with a decent computer, don’t you think?” He winked at me.

“Thank you so much... I don’t even know what to say.” He stepped across the room and gave me a hug. I couldn’t help but take a deep breath when he did. He smelled like the house... Or, rather, I suppose, the house smelled like him.

“Settle in, I’ll get dinner ready.” He backed away, ruffling his fingers through my hair before he walked out, leaving me wondering why the feeling of his fingers through my hair was making me hard. I unpacked my clothes into the dresser and sat down at the computer. I went to my email, first thing, aware that I didn’t have any friends left, and that I was living with the only family member who would talk to me, so I didn’t really expect to have any messages. When my email came up, my eyes shot right to the third new message, ignoring the preceding spam offers. It was from Nathan, my best friend in the world, before he learned I was a faggot. After that, he’d started using me, just like the other boys. I opened the message.

To: Stanley Phelps

From: Nathan Parker

Subject: Bye bye buddy

“Hey, Stan. So sad to see you moved. Even more surprised you wanted to, given how well we were taking care of you. We put together some parting gifts for you. Enjoy.”

I stared at the message for a few moments, and then at the links that followed it. I clicked the first one and a video player opened up. I clicked play, and there I was on the screen, getting fucked by Coach Carr. I was rock hard and felt humiliated all over again. The angle the video was shot at showed the arch in my back while my dick slapped against the table with each thrust. My face, in profile, looked shocked—not by the fact that I was getting fucked, but rather shocked by how good it felt. My mouth was gaping in a wide O as I moaned and writhed beneath my coach’s tight body. You could hear coach trash talking me, calling me a faggot and a slut, while he pounded into me. You could hear me moaning, which I realized now grew more intense with each lewd comment. You could see me rocking my body, hunching into the fuck, gasping and crying out in pleasure. You could hear my classmates calling me a slut, and a faggot, and a whore.

The video had over 2,000 views. That many people had seen me getting fucked at school by my own fucking coach in front of half my fucking class! I closed the browser, quickly, worried that I wouldn’t be able to keep from cumming if I saw myself lose it on the video.

I clicked the second link. Another video. I was almost too scared to click play. I couldn’t believe how horny the first video had made me; it was humiliating.

What else had been recorded?

The video started with white text on a black background reading, “For a good time call Stanley Phelps.” Then it started. Another cell phone video of me blowing a classmate. You couldn’t tell who the person stuffing my face was, but you could see my face clear as day. And then the guy was cumming, and I was swallowing and moaning when he pulled the head of his cock out and soaked my face in his cum. I watched my tongue lashing the air, apparently hungry for as much cum as I could get down my throat. A hand started scooping from my face, and I watched myself eagerly suck the cum from his fingers. It started again, with a different cock. And then another. And then I was getting fucked. And two cocks were cumming, one on either side of my face, as I tried to whip my head back and forth to get cum from them both at the same time. Two hands were scooping what I didn’t catch to feed it to me.

I could remember each fuck, each delicious load, and there it is on the internet for anyone to see. I closed the video and clicked the next link.

This one was a slide show of cocks, all from the same angle. My classmates cocks. I recognized most of them; the ones I didn’t recognize made me feel hornier and hornier. I felt a rush of disappointment that I hadn’t gotten to see them in person, and then a flush of shame that made my cock lurch. “Faggot,” I gasped to myself.

I ran away from these guys! Why is this making me so horny?

I moved on to the final link, a slide show of me getting fucked by coach. Every moment, every angle... I was rubbing my cock through my jeans, ready to take it out and make myself cum.

“Why are you getting turned on by this? Fucking faggot!” I said to myself. The wet spot on my jeans kept growing.

“Dinner’s ready.” I hadn’t heard the door open! I turned around, my hands flying to cover my crotch as I tried to put my body between my uncle and the pictures of me getting fucked on the computer. He smiled at me, a little wickedly, I thought, and then turned to walk away. I sank back in the chair, my cock throbbing and leaking. He must not have seen; if he had, he would be upset.

My head had cleared a little, so I closed the slide show and hit reply on Nathan’s message. “Don’t contact me you sick fuck.” I sent the message and minimized my email, arranging my still plumped cock in as inconspicuous a way as I could manage. I came out to the kitchen and there was a woman sitting at the table already. She saw me pause and stood up, walking over to introduce herself.

“You must be Stanley. I’m Veronica, your uncle’s girlfriend.”

“Uh, nice to meet you.” I held out my hand. She laughed and came in for a hug.

“Welcome home, kiddo. I’m glad you’re here. It’ll be good for you uncle.” She let me go and sat back down at the table. “Have a seat,” she indicated a place setting to her right, on the closest side of the square table. I took it, watching my uncle put food onto plates. He set a plate of spaghetti in front of me, then brought over two more for himself and Veronica. I was happy to discover that they weren’t the chat-as-you-eat type, so I sat and ate spaghetti. I thought it tasted a little funny, but neither of them said anything so I figured it was just me. I stopped noticing after a while, feeling a little odd. I was feeling strangely resentful of Veronica. I finished eating, and sat waiting for both of them to finish.

Hey, Uncle Colt is kind of hot, said a voice in my head. Faggot, said another. I was hard again. Really hard. I excused myself and went upstairs, trying to casually keep my crotch covered as I went. I looked back from the stairs, it looked like they both were smiling while they finished eating.

I took off my shirt and jeans and sat down at the computer chair in just my tented boxers. I couldn’t be this horny over being exposed to the internet as a faggot, it just wasn’t possible.

I went back to the slide show of my classmates’ cocks and started watching as cock after familiar cock crossed the screen. I zoned out at some point, staring blankly ahead, hard and dripping into the already saturated material of my shorts. The slide show ended, and I was so horny. I went back to the video of coach fucking me... God, watching it, I could remember every moment. I remembered how it all felt. Coach knew how to use that thick cock of his, and then half the guys in the school were watching us. They were taking pictures and videos with their phones. And then coach had told me that, since he was fucked, we might as well finish and put on a good show. You couldn’t tell what he said on the video, when he leaned in and whispered into my ear, but I knew.

And then he had started fucking me like I had never been fucked before. I pulled my cock through the fly of my shorts and started slowly rubbing it, already so horny that it couldn’t take much.

Can’t cum yet.

I kept watching after I came on the video, seeing something I didn’t remember. There, in front of everybody, with his cock buried in my ass, coach had scooped my cum up from the side of the lab table and held it to my face. I watched myself, dazed, lick my own cum from his fingers before he pulled out of me, zipped up, and left for good. It took me a second to realize the video was over. I was so horny!

Don’t cum.

I went into the bathroom to take a shower. I wanted to cum so bad, but... not yet. The shower had full dispensers of shampoo, conditioner, and body soap, so I just used what was there. It smelled great. I lathered my hair, my mind stuck on coach. He was the best fuck I ever had. He was the oldest, too... About Uncle Colt’s age.

My dick throbbed, a pearl of precum dripping down to the floor of the shower.

Noooo, I can’t think about my uncle like that. “Faggot,” I admonished myself.

I put conditioner into my hair, leaving it in as I began to soap up my body. It all smelled so good. I put some of the conditioner in my hand and started to stroke my cock with it. I’d have to find a way to get laid, soon. This was crazy... I was so horny I was even thinking about my uncle sexually.

He is in really good shape, said a voice in my head. And I know you’ve noticed his package.

Don’t cum.

I groaned and rinsed off. I got out of the shower and dried off, walking naked back to the computer. I’d left open the slide show of myself getting fucked by coach, and it was still looping on the screen. Shit, Uncle Colt could have walked in and seen!

I sat back down at the computer and started lightly stroking my cock, wondering what would happen if Uncle Colt did catch me watching a video of myself getting fucked. I closed it and got into bed naked, trying to fall asleep.

As I drifted, half asleep, I rolled over onto my pillow and inhaled deeply, relaxing. An image filled my head. Me, on my knees. Uncle Colt standing over me, cock hard. I imagined sucking his cock, periodically gasping a quick, “faggot!” every time my mind started to come out of it. The shame of it made me so horny that I would lapse right back into the dream.

“Let me see it shoot into your mouth.” In my mind fogged state, I imagined my uncle pulling out his ejaculating cock. I could see myself, holding my mouth open, tongue extended, as spurt after spurt of delicious cum fired into my mouth and across my face. I groaned, my dick squished lewdly between my body and the sheets, and drifted off to sleep.

THUMP. THUMP. THUMP. THUMP.

I snapped awake, confused. The first thing I realized was that I’d been having a dream about getting fucked by my own uncle. I called myself a faggot, and laid back down, my cock bouncing up from between my legs.

THUMP THUMP THUMP.

The second thing I realized was that I could still hear fucking, still feel it through the pounding against the wall.

“Ohhhhhh! Mmmmnnnn.” My Uncle, fucking Veronica. I started to stroke myself, writhing on the sheets to the sound of my uncle fucking his girlfriend. My uncle, fucking. Right fucking a foot away through this wall. I felt the feelings from dinner return, the resentment... But it wasn’t the same, it was changing. Not resentment... jealousy. Was that it? Yeah. I was jealous of her, getting fucked like that.

By your uncle. “Fuck,” I panted under my breath, “No, faggot, no!” Uncle Colt, fucking.

THUMP. THUMP. THUMP.

Fuck! Then it stopped. I could hear panting through the wall, and then...

“That’s right, I know you want to suck it, bitch,” my uncle said. I could hear Veronica moan and gasp, my jealousy growing. “I know you love it in your pussy. You love it in your mouth, too. You’re a fucking slut for my cock.” I found myself trying to ignore Veronica, pretending my uncle was speaking to me. It went on for hours.

Can’t cum yet.

I started fingering my ass, surrendering to the humiliating desire washing through my body. I imagined myself getting drilled deep by my own god damn uncle, saying those dirty things to me. I slobbered on my hand and drove three fingers into my ass, arching my back to get as deep as possible. I writhed, and bucked, and stifled moans as I listened to my uncle fuck his girlfriend in the next room.