Author: Grown Up Boy
Title: How it Started
Summary: While driving home from his deceased Uncle's house a man recalls when his Uncle first became overtly sexual with him, and made him his boy.
Keywords: Mb

This is an ADULTS ONLY work of fiction





By the time I finished clearing out Uncle Bill's house it was dark, and I loaded the last of what I wanted to take, into the back of my pickup, and headed out onto the two lane and south and towards home.  I was surprised at how little there was. Most of what we found in the house was old and worn out, and it was a little sad thinking that what I had in my truck was all that was left of the man. 

The only thing that really mattered to me were the pictures, and the thick manila envelope I had found them in lay on the seat beside me. I opened the rope tie and randomly pulled one out. 

It was a close up of our two cocks, both erect, the shafts alongside each other. His cock big thick, powerful, and leaning slightly over my small, thin, hairless penis in a manner that almost looked protective. The entire length of my baby cock, lay just about alongside the head of his man cock. It looked like I was wet with pre cum or cum. Judging by the size of my rubbery erection, I couldn't have been more than 3 or 4. I had no memory of this, and it still bothered me that there was so much about my early years with him that I had forgotten.

There were some things though that I never forgot.

With the regular hum of the tires on the asphalt, my mind wandered back to the time we first drove for hours and hours up to the little fishing camp in Maine. It was the time he took me to be his boy. 

He started talked about it for months before the actual trip. We planned it, bought the gear, crossed off the days on the calendar as they slowly crept by until the day we would leave. I talked about it with all my friends until they didn't want to hear about it anymore.
They all had dads and regularly did this kind of thing, they had no idea how big a deal this was to me. 

My friends couldn't possibly know how much I ached for the kind of relationships they had with their dads. The closeness, the roughhousing, the hugs, the piggy back rides, it was all magical to me. I didn't fully understand the relationship between men and boys, but I knew that it was special. Now I would have two weeks alone with my Uncle Bill and I was thrilled.

Before I left my mother had taken me aside and told me that while I was on this trip, Uncle Bill would talk to me about my body, and about growing up, and that it was important that I listen to what he had to say. This confused me a little bit as I wasn't sure what she meant, but I liked the sound of it. It was another mystery to be solved another piece of the puzzle of male-hood that I would come to understand.

Oddly enough Uncle Bill seemed kind of nervous. Looking back, I believe he had been planning this trip for a great many years, and as it drew closer he was worried about how I might react to what he had dreamed of for so many years.

He had molested me since I was an infant, the pictures on the seat beside me were clear evidence of that. But then he stopped around the age of 5. Perhaps he was nervous that I might tell someone? Worried that I might remember? I am not sure. 

He had used those early years to satisfy his sexual urges without any fear of getting caught. The care of young children requires a fair amount of nudity, touching, wiping and cuddling and the almost complete submission of the child to the adult. Later those years get lost in the fog of youth and its likely that almost all boys are somehow fondled or explored by at least someone in those early years.

But he wanted more

In those intervening years he was very physical, there was wrestling, fondling, cuddling, but nothing that couldn't be explained away as simple affection. I always seemed to be spilling something on myself and needing to be changed, or perhaps it was a chance to go swimming where we would change together. In those years his cock was a common sight for me, but he never talked about it, never made me touch or suck it.

But as I approached my 9th birthday, he started telling me about the fishing trip we would take to celebrate, and as the day approached, he hardly seemed to be able to contain himself. Telling my mother that he would talk to me about the "birds and the bees" seems now to be the perfect cover for what he had been planning for so many years.

I remember lying down in the front seat, my head on his lap, as he drove along. I remember looking up at the night sky as we drove on through the night, listening to the radio and struggling to stay awake.

The next thing I remember was waking up along in an unfamiliar bed, in an unfamiliar room. The air was a little cool, and I cuddled for warmth under the thick comforter. I realized that I must have fallen asleep, and that Uncle Bill must have carried me here. I realized that I was naked, and worried that perhaps I had wet myself, as I had done a few times.

I called out to him "Uncle Bill?".... he didn't answer., so I got out of bed, wrapped myself in a sheet, and went to the door. I followed the sounds of him out to what was the kitchen, where I saw that he was making pancakes. 

"Hungry Chris?" he said. "Starving" I replied, "Where's my clothes?" 

"You don't need any clothes here, because it's just me and you. When it's just two boys, or a boy and his daddy, you don't have to wear clothes"

I considered this for a moment and was a little confused, but he knew what the word daddy meant to me, and if it was something that daddies did with boys, then I was in!
Although it had not been overtly sexual in my short memory, we had been naked together many times and this didn't strike me as completely unusual, more like I was being let in on one of the many secrets of male-ness. The thought of being naked around the cabin with him thrilled me, and I sat and watched him finish the pancakes, his thick cock swaying from side to side as he moved about the kitchen. He saw me staring and smiled.

He still seemed a little out of sorts, nervous perhaps about what he knew was coming, and about how I would react. I didn't know what was coming but was a little unsettled by his unease.

We finished the pancakes, and by then the sun had warmed things up a bit, and he said that we should go outside and fish.

"Naked?" I said, "yes of course" he replied, "there is no one out here for many miles, just you and me, I promise you no on will see your little penis".

Wow, he was talking about my penis, this was new to me, nobody ever talked about penises in my life. I had always been very curious about them, but there weren't many penises in my life to learn from. Was it the many times I had been exposed to his penis as a toddler? Did I remember something?  

My mother had all these art books, some of which had pictures of Greek and Roman statues of naked men and boys. I would leaf through the books to see the naked ones, and while breasts did hold a certain fascination for me, it was the penises that I really came to see. They were all uncircumcised, and the only penises that I had access to were my own and Uncle Bills, and we were both circumcised. I came to believe that uncircumcised penises were the old kind, sort of like what cave men had, but modern penises were somehow different. 

I remember being completely dumbfounded upon first seeing a little boys uncircumcised penis, and thinking I had found some sort of missing link.

Uncle Bill and I went outside and fished by the shore. I enjoyed the warm sun on my body and the freedom of being naked. I was fishing with a man, like all the other boys got to do with their daddies, and I was in heaven.

He caught 3 or 4 Trout, I caught a few Sunfish and he showed me how to clean them. This was serious man stuff and again I was in awe of his ability, and not just a little affected by the nearness of his thick powerful body.

After we cleaned the fish, he said we had to go swimming to clean ourselves off, and we ran off towards the little beach. The water was freezing, but I went in anyway jumping and splashing like a colt in the clear cold water. Uncle Bill only went in to up to his thighs, his thick cock hanging down just above the water. After a while we got into a water fight, and started roughhousing and wrestling he playfully grabbed at my tiny cock and kept asking me where did it go? Did it disappear?

I looked down and sure enough, the cold water had caused my tiny balls to retreat back into my body, and the stub of my penis looked like a turtles head that pulled back into it's shell. It couldn't have been more than an inch. While I looked down he grabbed me, lifted me and carried me up onto the grass by the pond, all the while tickling and groping me saying how we had to find my missing penis.

I though this was the most fun I had ever had in my life. Being carried in the arms of a big strong man, naked and defenseless touched a very deep part of me, and while I didn't quite understand what I was feeling, I knew that it was special.

What he did next kind of confused me. He sat himself down on the grass, with me on his lap, and held me tightly with one of his arms across my chest, and with his free hand he, cupped and fondled my little penis and empty scrotum, warming it and calling it out from its shell. As my penis reacted to his touch, he put two fingers around the tiny shaft and started to stroke it.

I think he believed that I might try to get away, to run or yell for help, but that never occurred to me. 

He held me tight across the chest, and stroked my boy cock while whispering in my ear how much he loved me, all the while kissing and licking at my neck and ears. He told how he wished that I could be his boy. He seemed to be trembling.

My penis had now recovered somewhat and started to grow beyond the normal half hard rubbery erection that I was familiar with. His fingers soon produced the rhythm of sex, and some ancient primitive part of my brain woke up for the first time ever and started to respond.  My thin little boy cock was harder than it had ever been, and actually touched my belly. 

My mind was too immature to deal with the sensations that I was feeling, and I felt mostly dizzy, everything seemed to be happening in slow motion. I didn't know what was happening, but I liked it. 

He was good at it, and knew just how to slide the soft skin up and down the thin shaft of my penis, and I built quickly to a climax. I started gasping for air and making little whimpering noises. Soon everything went kind of blurry. My little hips started to move and buck as I sat there on his lap, the primitive part of my brain was taking control and making what had to be almost cute childish attempts to hump something. My little hips shook and spasmed, my little penis twitched and tried to pump out sperm that wouldn't exist for several years.

He held me tight through the spasms whispering in my ear that it was alright, and that he loved me.  As my body relaxed and sank back against his, he knew that I was his.

I didn't realize it at the time, but once the sexual creature in you has been woken up, it can never go back to sleep. I was changed at that moment.


He hugged me close, and held me tight as we sat there on that beach for a few minutes. I could feel both his and my own heartbeats. I felt safe and loved.

After a while he said "turn around Chris", and I extricated my limbs from his and turned so that I no sat on his lap facing him. He again hugged me close, the shafts of out two cocks aligned and pressed together. 

He asked me how I felt, I said "really good, but what was that that just happened?"

He relaxed and we both leaned back and separated a little.

"That was an orgasm" he said. "It's a special gift that two people can give to each other" 
"Your mother asked me to talk to you about your body and to talk to you about sex, I figured maybe I would just show you"

After that followed a perfunctory sex lesson which consisted mostly of me touching the various parts of his cock as he explained things too me. I remembered some of it: 

Men had cocks because they had hair and could make sperm, I had a penis because I couldn't.

The wet stuff leaking from his cock wasn't pee, it was sperm.

Sperm was where babies came from. Women made milk for babies with their breasts, and men made milk for babies with their balls. At that point he told me to hold his balls, one in each hand. They were magically heavy. 

This last bit actually made surprising sense to me as my mother had a friend who seemed to make a point of nursing her baby daughter right in front of me. 

Men helped boys grow up by giving them their sperm, and that if I had a daddy, he would do that for me if I liked.

I just nodded.

With that he picked me up and carried me into the cottage, just like a little baby, a hand on my bottom, and a hand on my neck. He walked me into the bedroom, and laid me down on the bed.

He stood there staring at me, a big bull male enjoying a look the place where he would next deposit his cum. He looked at me with lust in his eyes, as if I was his property. I felt odd, but somehow enjoyed that look. I wanted to be somebody's.

He leaned down and lay on the bed, his faces a few inches from my cock, and he casually fondled it. Soon under his expert hands, I was hard again, and this time he did something really strange, he bent down and started licking my penis!.

It was warm and wet, and I couldn't believe someone would do this. That's where I peed!
He sucked me for a few minutes and again my cock was hard as a nail, bending up towards my belly. Occasionally he stopped and licked my tiny wrinkled scrotum, sometimes taking the whole thing in his mouth. It was a totally new sensation, and yet oddly familiar. 

Eventually, that same feeling started to build inside me, and again I whimpered and held his head, bucking my hips against his mouth. His warm wet mouth and expert tongue returned to my thin little shaft and soon the feeling of the skin sliding up and down along my little bone overwhelmed me, my world convulsed and I had my second orgasm.

I actually passed out and woke up later cuddled along side him my head resting on his chest. When I woke, I lay there for a while and enjoyed the close feeling of his powerful body beside me, and the slow steady rhythm of his breathing. He sensed that I was awake and his hand started to trace along the contours of thighs, hips and torso. It felt wonderful to have his large hands on me.

I stared down at his thick cock. It moved gradually side to side, seeming to grow a little, shift over and then shrink again, resting against his heavy balls. It looked like it was alive. I reached out and gently touched the side of his cock. It was warm and smooth, my finger traced along the shaft to the head, where I took a swipe of the pre-cum that was starting to flow out from him with my finger, and brought it to my lips.

I tasted his milk, and he hugged me close as I did.

I knew what I had to do. As soon as he had taught me that you could lick and suck someone's penis, I knew that I was supposed to suck him. He was the man, I was the boy, it was the natural order of things that I should suck him, and that if I did a good job, he would love me and help me become a man.

He knew what I was thinking and said "it's OK Chris" 

I shimmied down the bed so that my face was even with his massive cock, and I stroked and touched it. He let me explore it slowly, to learn all its parts. At first it was soft, and as I explored him, he grew hard. The process seemed magical to me. I knew I was doing it right, I knew I was making him happy. I was a good boy for him.

He told me so.

I leaned in and stuck my tongue out and just barely made contact with the tip of his cock, I licked a little and as I drew away for a moment there was a thin bridge of sticky pre-cum that connected us. I giggled when it broke. Uncle Bill patted me on the head in a reassuring manner, but also one that transmitted the idea that I was to get on with sucking his cock. He was engorged now, and needed relief. I was the relief he had been waiting for so many years, and now was the time.

I grasped his cock with my two hands and aimed the head of his cock at me, and started to lick. I tried to imitate what he had shown me, but he was very big and I was clumsy. A few times he had to remind me about my teeth. 

I wasn't doing it right, I had the incorrect rhythm, and he had to place his hands on the side of my head, and move my head up and down in his rhythm to show me the way to please him. I understood almost right away when I finally got it right. The rhythm of sex, once learned, becomes second nature, even for a little boy.

With the correct rhythm, I could now see how I was affecting him, I could see him relax, and then sense the tension slowly building in him. Oddly enough I felt a sense of control with him in my mouth. He was big and strong and powerful, but I could make him react like this, and that gave me a sense of power over him. I guess this is something all whores and little boys learn or at least rationalize after a while.

It didn't take long, he had waited all these years. I could sense the bull animal in him take over. After a while I wasn't Chris his little nephew, but simply a warm wet hole into which he would cum. He grabbed my head and held me tight, he thrust a few times deep into my throat, scaring me, and at the same time tickling my nose with his scratchy pubic hairs.

He started to moan, and he doubled the stroke, his own hips thrusting up into my face. I was really scared now to see this side of him, and I wanted it to end, as my jaw was sore. It did end as he made one more sustained thrust up at me and bellowed like the bull male that he was, I felt his cock spasm in my mouth and his warm wet cum spurt into me.

He spurted again and again, and I started to panic, but Uncle Bill reminded me to swallow and as I did, I regained my composure. The spasms of his cock seemed to run through his whole body, and slowly they lessened and the spurts of cum grew less. He continued spurting though for well over a minute.

As he recovered, he began to stroke my hair, and told me what a good boy I was, and how much he loved me. He told me that I was his boy now, and that he would be my daddy.

He pulled me up and on to him, my face on his chest, our cocks together. I rested my head on him, and the sound of his heartbeat, and his warm hands cupping my bottom soon had me fast asleep. 

All this I remembered as I drove along the highway through that dark night. The bright lights of a truck suddenly shined in my eyes, and as his air horn sounded I snapped out of my reverie, and pulled back into my own lane.

 My crotch was wet as if I had had a wet dream, but I had been awake. I wondered how long I might have fallen asleep at the wheel for, a few hours, or a few moments?

I pulled out that picture, the one of our two cocks together. As I looked at it I smiled and after a few moments, I placed it into my shirt pocket.

There was a lot more that happened during that week we spent at the little fishing cottage in Maine, and indeed in the years that followed, but that's another story. 
