Cross-Country with My Uncle Ch. 09

Mikey, a studly 18-year old finds himself intimate for the first time with Mike, his namesake 24-year old uncle whom he's idolized all his life during a cross-country drive. Steve is the 20-year old collegiate gymnast who hitches a ride with them.

As he lay between my legs, Steve and I were still grasping each other's arms. His arms were extended over his head to meet mine, as I reached down to hold his. He let loose of my left arm and reached over and took Mike's right hand in his, and squeezed both Mike's hand and my right arm. He said, "The other thing I want is that I can't stand to part from you guys yet. Can I ride with you as far as you go today?"

Big bright smiles broke out on our faces as we shouted our approval. "Yee-haw, Steve! That's so cool!" Mike said. "I never thought that would be possible: that's great news!" as he playfully stroked Steve's belly and ran his fingers through his pubic hair, matted though it was with his spunk. And I reached down to the beautiful face resting in my crotch and stroked it, and said, "That's awesome, man!"

Suddenly everything had changed profoundly. We had been in a very bittersweet mood at having to part from Steve and almost certainly never seeing him again, even as he lay between us. At this extreme point when parting had been so near, another 24 hours together seemed like an endless reprieve. Steve explained that he had another three or four days before he picked up his brother Mark at the airport and their summer together on the ranch began.

"The ranch?" I asked.

"I'll tell you all about it in the truck," he promised.

Meanwhile, Mike asked if he could make a call, and of course Steve nodded. Mike picked up the bedside phone and dialed Alice's number. Since it was about 7.30 in California, he knew she's be waking up. Again, it was almost like magic. As soon as she answered the phone, Mike's penis begin to expand and lengthen, and it was almost as if her words were caressing his body. In no time his cock was erect again.

"Yes, I miss you like crazy too, Allie," he said into the phone. "But it won't be long now. I'll be seeing you in less than two days."

After listening to her a moment, his smile ratcheted up another kilowatt. "Well," he said, looking down at his now throbbing cock, "it's anxious to see you too!"

"No," he said, "I'm not wearing anything at all. What are you wearing?" It appears this was a regular routine with them, and as Alice's voice cooed from the earpiece, Steve immediately got the idea, and sat up and, with two hands on Mike, slowly jacked him as he lay back and closed his eyes and held up his end of the phone sex.

And then, under Steve's expert hands, Mike gasped "Ah, ah, AAHH, O Alice!" He panted. He continued, "Yes, of course you know I'm a sloppy mess," as he opened his eyes and looked down at the ropes of semen in his belly and chest hair. "See you tomorrow night," he said into the phone," making childish but cute kissing noises, and hanging up.

Mike sat up, and kissed Steve right on the nose, and ruffled his hair with his big hands.

Though Steve's folks house was very large, the upstairs was fairly simply organized. The big staircase led into an upstairs hall that ran east and west, and off the hall were four guest rooms, each with its own bath. His parents' suite occupied the entire east end of the house. And the opposite end of the hall opened onto Steve and Mark's suite, which was in fact roughly identical to his parents' in layout.

Mark was 14 months older than Steve. They had been more or less inseparable most of their lives. They couldn't have been closer without being twins. And their gigantic suite reflected their preferences. Of course they could have had large, separate rooms, or even adjoining rooms, but they preferred to live together. Their suite consisted of an enormous room, with French windows on the north, west, and south sides, and a gallery or balcony surrounding the whole. The doors to their bath and their dressing room were on the east wall, on either side of the door from the main hallway. The room had everything a privileged kid could want. In some respects it looked as if someone had ordered the entire contents of a high-end consumer-electronics catalog. Jesus, maybe they did! But like the rest of the house, it was neat without being in any respect fussy. The brothers did not divide the room into two halves. Instead there were two desks side by side in one corner, and in another corner was devoted to electronic games, a big collection of media and players. The two queen beds were side by side, only 18 inches apart.

But what was most striking about the room - it would have been remarkable anywhere! -- was that over the two beds were life-sized photographs of the boys, obviously the work of their father. The one over the left bed showed Steve and Mark absolutely nude - neither had on even a wrist watch - side by side, with gigantic, unbelievably winning grins on their faces. Steve had his arm on Mark's shoulder, and Mark had his arm draped over Steve's. The one over the right bed was similar, but it showed Mark with his legs somewhat wide apart, and his hands on his hips; and Steve to the right and slightly to the rear. He had his arm right arm around Mark's neck, with his left hand lay lightly on Mark's trunk.

Mark and Steve could have looked like identical twins, except for their coloring. Mark's hair was light - in the black and white photograph it was hard to say exactly whether it was a darkish blond or a very light brown color, but in any case it sharply contrasted with Steve's dark hair. But otherwise, they were nearly identical in size and shape. The youths depicted were incredibly beautiful, specimens of perfect development. It was easy to assume (as we later found to be true) that Mark, too, was a gymnast, with the characteristically outsized shoulders, huge arms, ropy forearms, big thighs, and most obviously in these studies, hyperdeveloped trunk muscles.

The photographs really were exactly life size. Steve was shown at about 5'7", as was Mark. And depicted was every single detail of their bodies down to every last hair. I suppose that their dad could have airbrushed away any little mole or acne scar, but, to tell the truth, by now I had inspected every hidden corner of Steve's body, and he was perfect.

There were several ways in which these pictures could be read. Clearly they were art objects of the highest quality, beautiful examples of the photographer's craft, beautifully conceived and designed and executed. The images amounted to modern-day kouros. They also betokened enormous family love and pride: the parents for their sons, whom they evidently adored, the brothers for each other. And though there was not any explicit eroticism depicted - no suggestion of erections or leering or improper touching, of course -- the pictures were very powerfully erotic.

Mike and I were amazed and stunned by the beauty of the pictures, and our hearts were warmed by the obvious love for each other that the boys displayed. And my cock stiffened immediately. Even Mike, who had already this morning had two orgasms, found his penis once again erect. As we studied the pictures, we compared the two brothers. There couldn't have been a quarter inch difference in height between them. And their bodies were developed so similarly that it would have been difficult to distinguish between them were it not for the difference in body hair. Mark had rather more hair from his chest clear down to his belly, but it was notably lighter. Except around the navel, where it was unmistakably thicker than Steve's, Steve's darker body hair showed up in the black and white portrait somewhat more dramatically than did Mark's, especially his pubic and belly hair. Their penises were relaxed - one might even say extended - but not expanded or even close to being erect. And their balls were low-hangers.

Steve shyly grinned, "You like 'em? There are more down here." He led us the entire length of the hallway and we entered his parents' suite. There above the kingsized bed were two more life-sized studies. They were similar in quality to the others, but rather different in feel. In one, Steve and Mark were standing side by side, nude of course, but instead of looking into the camera they were facing one another, with Mark's right arm on Steve's left shoulder, and laughing as if they'd just heard the funniest story in the world. In the other, they were in a close embrace, enfolding each other in their powerful arms, with Steve's head on Mark's shoulder. You could only see Steve's face in profile and Mark's was mostly hidden. The picture generated a very, very strong emotional response. A small legend at the bottom of each picture "Hae gemmae," which from somewhere I dredged up the translation from the Latin: "These are my jewels."

And of course Mike and I wanted to know all about Mark. "Of course," Steve said. "We'll have plenty of time today in the truck."

Walking back through the bedroom to get to the boys' bathroom, we paused again to stare at the photographs, and again Mike and I sprang boners, and looking at us, so did Steve. Steve and I had come only once each this morning, but Mike had come both in Steve's butt and in Steve's hands. But, stalwart as ever, he seemed ready to go again.

The boys' bathroom was totally luxurious. It was large, and provided with windows across its length. Since there was nothing but range land and mountains to the south, there was little or no need for privacy, especially on the second floor. There were twin basins, a urinal - the crapper was in a separate room that communicated both with their bedroom and with the main part of the bath -- a big, walk-in shower, with 8 or 10 nozzles located at various heights and angles. The 'tub,' if you could call it that, was actually located out on the deck or balcony, surrounded by a glass enclosure that you could slide open. It wasn't a 'hot tub' or 'spa' or something like that, meant to remain filled; but rather gigantic Jacuzzi, easily able to accommodate two - or for that matter, three or four, if friendly.

We opted for the big shower, and we all three walked in, and took turns soaping one another and shampooing each other's hair. We luxuriated in the shower for long minutes, enjoying the intimacy of the moment, slipping and sliding our hands on the others' bodies. Mike, especially, looked so different all wet, with his thick chest and belly hair flattened against his firm body. Steve's and my hair looked darker and thicker and more prominent, too, especially on our arms and legs, but the effect wasn't nearly as dramatic in our case as in Mike's. Just looking at Mike made the erection I was carrying still more urgent, and leaning against the wall, and staring at him, I began to pump. In turn, looking at me at work, Steve began himself with his right hand, putting his left on my shoulder; and of course Mike joined in, speading his legs wide for stability and holding on to my other shoulder. Maybe unsurprisingly, Steve finished first, his cum spraying on Mike's belly (and his working hand); but I was only seconds behind him. Mike understandably was not quite so far along, and I stood behind him and reached in front and took over for him. Under my management, he was a goner in another sixty seconds.

We washed all the cum off each other, and just as I was about to step toward the entrance - the shower didn't have a door - it only had an opening in the partial wall that divided it from the rest of the room, like a locker room shower -- Mike said, "Man, I guess I need a shave. I can't go home looking like this." I hadn't shaved since just before going to the dentist four days ago; for Mike, even more heavily bearded, it had been six days, since back in California, and his cheeks and chin were now golden with the thick growth. Steve said, "Here, stand right under this hot spray right on your face for a while," and he turned his attention to me. I had two days' less growth, and in any case my beard didn't come in quite as thickly as Mike's did. (Though it would later in years to come.) Steve reached into a little built-in alcove and selected some pleasant-smelling gel, and rubbed it into my face. He put a new blade into a heavy, gold-colored razor and told me to wait a little while longer, while my beard softened further. In a minute or two he carefully began working on my cheeks and neck. The neck wasn't so hard, but I had to cooperate by puffing out my cheeks so that he could shave in the creases where my dimples always appeared.

Reaching up - remember, I was 6 inches taller than he was, despite the fact that he was significantly more muscular than I was and impossibly ripped - he pushed my head and face under the close-by nozzle and, once the remaining foam was gone, he inspected his work. He then loaded another new blade into the razor and turned to Mike, and repeated the process. During the shaving Mike, like me, had put his hands on Steve's hips for stability - and just to enjoy the touch. When Steve had washed his face, Mike turned to me and said, "How's it look?" Where before we had both had something between stubble and seriously incipient beards, now we both had dark gold goatees. When we'd gotten out and dried ourselves on the thick white cotton towels, I stood side by side by Mike and we looked into the long mirror. We had always had a strong facial resemblance - or at least since I hit my main pubertal growth spurt - but now we looked strikingly more alike than ever with the twin goatees. Of course they couldn't last - Mike's wedding was just a few more days away, but it was really fun to share something else brand new with my uncle.

To be continued.