Uncle Russell

Uncle Russell is really my wife's great uncle. He's about 73, and profoundly average, maybe a little nerdy. He's 5'8, still slim, and still has a head of hair, although it's an unremarkable shade of blonde. He's married to a harpy of a woman who bosses him and belittles him. Maybe he likes that? I don't know.

I run into Uncle Russell around town, usually at a big-box store, and we'll chat about the extended family that lives in the area. What's so strange is that, plain as he is, I always find myself getting hard around him. Maybe I just want to give him the eye-rolling, toe-curling cock eruption I'm sure his wife would never give him.

I'm 55, with a slight belly, but a nice bubble-butt, blue eyes and blonde, thinning hair. I've gotten my share of looks from men and women, so I guess there's something worth looking at. I started playing with guys in earnest about ten years ago (although I had fantasized for years and experimented some when I was younger). I've finally reached the point where I just really enjoy sex with men, not feeling the shame, guilt and secrecy I did when I started. I'm a total bottom who loves nothing more than pleasing cocks with my mouth, hands and ass, especially older, slightly dominant guys who know how to treat a bottom.

Uncle Russell spent a life in the welding trade, and I'd been getting interested in it as a hobby (I know - everyone is, these days, or wood-working, or blacksmithing - hey these are sexy, manly hobbies, and I love sexy, manly men). I'd purchased a basic rig for a couple hundred bucks and thought Uncle Russell might be willing to help me get started. He had a buddy who had a shop that was closed on Sundays, but would let him have the key, so we made arrangements to meet.

He showed up in his same chinos and polo that he'd worn his entire life. Neutral colors, nothing wild or distinctive. He unlocked the door and mentioned again that the place was closed on Sundays, so nobody would bother us. I found that slightly odd to say, and a little exciting. My cock started to stir and fill out the front of my jeans. He showed me all the basics, and had me do some simple welds. If he leaned a little too close at times, I guess it was just because he had to show me the proper grip and motion. We spent a couple of hours together and he showed me how to avoid or fix common mistakes. At the end of the day, I went to shake his hand and thank him, telling him that if there was ever anything I could do, just let me know.

He held on to my hand long past the traditional three pumps.

"Maybe there is something you can do for me...Sam."

I froze. Like everyone else, my screen name and my real name are completely different. The only guys who know me as Sam are guys I've sucked, fucked or chatted with. I'd gotten a little bolder about posting face pics, probably bolder than I should, but only on sites I thought no one I knew would ever go.

He kept holding my hand, pulling me closer to him. My cock got harder under my jeans, and he looked straight at my straining bulge, then into my eyes.

"I think you know what I want. I think you know what you want. Right? Sam?"

He pulled me close to him and put a hand on my shoulder, pressing me down to my proper place - on my knees. He kept his hand on my shoulder, holding me down as he unbuckled his belt and unziipped his chinos. He pushed his briefs down, revealing a semi-hard cock that was about 4 inches long.

"Get me hard, Sam."

I reached up and cupped his balls while my mouth went to work on his semi-hard cock. After drawing it in and swirling my tongue a bit, his cock began to grow and thicken. By the time I was done, he was nearly 7 inches and thick. Who knew Uncle Russel was packing meat?

Still holding me in place with one hand, Uncle Russell withdrew his cock from my mouth. He grabbed it by the base and pointed it at me.

"Make your lips tight and wet, like a pussy," he commanded, and I did. Still holding it by the base, he pushed his hard cock slowly across my tight lips and into my wet mouth. Once his cock was fully in my mouth, he placed his other hand on top of my head. He had me pinned in place.

Uncle Russell started fucking my mouth, slowly, at first, then picking up speed. He'd get into a rhythym, then back off. He was edging, using my mouth as a fleshlight. I could taste the precum leaking out of his slit. He didn't say a word, just kept building up to orgasm and backing off, holding me in place the entire time. His breath would get heavier, and his thrusts more insistent, then he'd slow down, sometimes pulling out of my mouth so he could enter it again. I could feel the head of his dick bouncing off the back of my throat. I loved feeling his veiny shaft slide across my lips and tongue. My own cock was throbbing in my jeans, leaking precum into a spreading spot the size of a silver dollar.

"Get ready, Sam. This is what you want!"

I moaned my agreement as Uncle Russel sped up his insistent thrusts. His hands pulled my head toward him as his hips drove his cock in and out of my eager mouth, fucking me, fucking my lips. I kept them tight and raised my tongue against the bottom of his shaft. It was hard to breathe as he repeatedly rammed his cock into my face, but I was in another world - a vessel of sex, of lust, of power - his power over my mouth, my power over his cock. A few more thrusts and he groaned out loud as he flooded my mouth with his white-hot cum. He kept pumping and pulsating, thrilling my tongue and filling my cheeks. He took the hand that was on my shoulder and put in under my chin. Clamping my jizz-filled mouth on his softening cock. He pulled out and held my mouth shut, silently commanding me to swallow his seed, which I did in three shallow gulps, relishing the taste of him, luxuriating in my mouth being the instrument of his orgasm. When he was sure I'd swallowed, he released me and stepped back a pace.

"Be back here, next Sunday, Sam. I've got some buddies who could teach you a few things."