His Uncle's Plaything

(Please note: I'm British and my stories are written in British English. I write whatever comes to me and in whatever way feels right to me. Some of my stories are down and dirty, some are slightly more restrained. They are all a part of my imagination and I don't censor my muse to fit any aesthetic. You might find that you like some and hate others. That's perfectly fine. I genuinely enjoy writing all of them and hope that each will find its intended audience.)

Eighteen-year-old James Bartholomew peered up at the five-storey mansion as the chauffeur drove up to his uncle's South Street address in Mayfair. The elegant red-brick, Grade II listed house with its double-fronted Edwardian façade was as familiar to him as his parents' much more modest four bedroom house in Chelsea.

He'd always loved the sense of grandeur he'd felt each time he'd visited as he'd walked up the Portland stone doorway that lead into the stately high-ceilinged entrance hall with its polished diamond limestone flagstones, large stone fireplace and imposing staircase.

Today he was too angry to be impressed by anything.

He was furious that his selfish parents had decided that they'd done their duty by him, parenting him until he'd reached majority age in the UK, and now wanted to have fun for themselves. They had joined an exclusive nudist colony on a private island, so exclusive that they wouldn't tell him where.

They had been good parents to him in most ways, except perhaps for making him feel that if he hadn't lived in the same house they would have walked around naked and fucked all day.

They had thrown the world's biggest party for him a week ago and now they had sent him to live with Uncle Edward, his father's identical twin brother, who was nothing like his five-minutes-younger brother, James's father Henry.

Being the first born, Edward had inherited all the family's wealth. Some stupid long-dead ancestor had decided that the only way to ensure that the properties he'd bought by scrimping and saving weren't sold off was by making them entailed property.

Several members of the family had challenged the practice of primogeniture over the years and had all failed.

The stupid thing was that despite its wealth, the family wasn't acknowledged by upper class English society.

James's father had never seemed to resent the fact that his twin had inherited both of the luxury London houses which had been in the family for over a century. Perhaps he believed that the half a million pounds he'd inherited from his maternal grandfather and living in his twin's Chelsea house rent free were an adequate enough consolation prize.

The forty-seven-year-old twin brothers had always been incredibly close, although they were as different as siblings could ever possibly be.

James and his uncle had also been close, up until two years ago when his uncle had started acting as though James didn't exist.

Then, as though he was a schizophrenic, his uncle had attended James's eighteenth birthday party last week and had acted like a fond uncle as though the two years had never happened.

Everyone in the family called Edward 'The Recluse' because he kept strictly to himself when he was not being the formidable owner and headmaster of St Gabriel's Boys' School, at which James had just completed his A-Levels.

Though Edward and his father were identical, they somehow managed to look quite different. While his father enjoyed the life of the idle rich, drinking and partying for as long as James could remember, Edward worked out regularly and took great care of himself.

The reason his parents had foisted him off on his uncle was because Edward had never married and James was his heir.

James didn't mind inheriting the man's wealth when he died, but he didn't know why he had to bloody go and live with him.

He could have stayed at the Chelsea house by himself—it wasn't going to be occupied or rented while his parents were away—and had as much fun as he'd wanted now that he was finally eighteen.

The annoying thing was that while his parents were hedonists, they hadn't allowed him any freedom. He'd spent most Saturdays from the age of 12 to 18 attending Royal College of Music Junior Academy.

Most Sundays, his parents had taken him to fun fairs, car and horse races, operatic and ballet performances, museums and art galleries. James had enjoyed every minute, but he'd sometimes wished that he'd been allowed to go clubbing and do all the other things boys his age did.

His father knew that he was gay and had sat him down at the age of fourteen and told him that while he fully accepted his son's sexual orientation, he wanted him to wait until he was eighteen to start dating.

James had been furious at first and had reminded his father that the homosexual age of consent had also finally been lowered to 16 in 2000, five whole years before James was born!

Instead of getting angry his father had told James that he was making the request out of love and not making the demand simply because he wanted to be an autocratic parent. He'd said that sex wasn't something that should be taken lightly. He'd said that he would have wanted James to wait until he was eighteen, if he was straight.

His father had always been a loving parent and after some thought, James had realized that his father really did want the best for him. The world was a scary place for vulnerable young gay boys and too many of them got taken advantage of.

But, his father had promised that James would be able to do exactly what he wanted as soon as he turned eighteen.

With that in mind, James had been seriously thinking of deferring his place at the Royal College of Music and kicking up his heels for a year.

He'd even thought that he might decide not to go at all after the year was done. His father hadn't been to university and it hadn't hurt him.

James had known that his parents had planned to leave the UK indefinitely. He'd planned to accompany them to the airport and make sure that they were safely onboard their flight. Then he'd planned to spend the day pampering himself, then get dressed and go to the most famous gay nightclub in the city, pick up the best-looking guy there and have his virgin butthole thoroughly fucked by morning.

Instead, late yesterday his father had dropped a bombshell—James was going to live with his Uncle Edward from today until further notice.

Suspecting that he would be held a virtual prisoner by his even stricter uncle, James had devised a plan. He'd connected to Grinder and made plans to meet up with a sexy-looking much older man.

He'd intended to arrive at his uncle at a minute to midnight at the very latest, just so that he couldn't be accused of not arriving on the planned day, with his dratted virginity a thing of the past.

Instead, Uncle Edward's chauffeured limousine had first dropped his parents off at Gatwick Airport where they'd said their goodbyes an hour ago and had now brought him straight to his uncle's door.

He hadn't even been allowed to make his own bloody way to his uncle's house and in his own bloody time!

Life was so fucking unfair sometimes!

Worst of all, his father had warned him that his uncle wouldn't tolerate any partying or reckless living while James lived under his uncle's roof.

He would probably still be a virgin when he was fifty!

***

His uncle was sitting in a comfortable-looking armchair when Simmons the butler ushered James into his uncle's study.

"So you've arrived in one piece," his uncle said, giving him an icy stare from his almost colourless eyes.

It was odd that while his father's pale grey eyes always sparkled like cut diamonds, his uncle's reminded him of icicles.

"Yes, Uncle Edward," he replied.

"Dinner will be served at eight sharp. You may retire to your room until then."

"Yes, Uncle Edward," he replied and turned back to the door.

As he was about to leave the room his uncle added, "Formal attire."

James didn't own a single suit or anything that could be considered formal.

"But I have nothing..." he started to protest, but trailed off when he saw the stern look in his uncle's eyes.

"Wear your school uniform."

"Yes, Uncle Edward."

James breathed a sigh of relief, but only for a minute.

He'd had enough of wearing the damn things!

He had five sets—a fresh one for each weekday, but the only reason he hadn't already chucked them was because they were in good condition and he'd planned to donate them to a charity. It was highly unlikely that anyone who bought them second hand could afford the fees at St Gabriel's, but students of several schools in London wore the exact shade of dark grey uniform.

James had hated wearing a uniform to school; he would have much preferred to have been able to express his individuality. Instead, he'd been forced to wear the same clothes as the idiots who had called him a 'faggot' when no one in authority could hear.

It had been annoying that he'd had the misfortune to go to the only boys' school in the country where all the boys had been raving heterosexuals.

All the books he'd ever read on exclusive boys' schools had hinted that a lot of butt-fucking took place and James had been eager for some when he'd first started the school.

He was almost sure, though, that there had been some butt-fucking going on, but it had been kept on the down low.

One of the problems of being the headmaster's nephew was that everyone thought you'd be a tattletale and run to him with every little piece of gossip.

***

Instead of going up to his room as his uncle had instructed, James headed to the music room. Playing the piano would soothe his frayed nerves and take the edge off his sexual frustration.

He'd been so close to being fucked! The older man on Grinder had looked very distinguished and had barely concealed his excitement when James had admitted to being a virgin.

When he pushed open the door of the music room, James almost tripped over his own feet in astonishment as he stopped abruptly.

The burr walnut Steinway Model D grand piano which had dominated the room had disappeared.

His uncle had never played the instrument himself. Neither he nor his twin had any real talent for music, but he'd kept it perfectly tuned for James. His father had once told him that it was worth in the vicinity of £250,000, yet his uncle had allowed James to play it even before he'd started Junior Academy at twelve.

He wondered if the missing piano was the reason his uncle hadn't allowed him to come to the house in the last two years.

He'd never heard of his uncle experiencing financial difficulty.

In fact, from all he knew, his uncle was rolling in money.

So why the fuck had he sold the only thing that would have given James any pleasure in the whole bloody house?

As he made his way up to his bedroom, James had to fight back his tears.

By the time he'd listened to YouTuber Rousseau play several of his favourite pieces by Beethoven, Chopin, Debussy and Tchaikovsky, James felt calmer.

Forty minutes later as he stepped out of the shower, he'd decided that he had two options: put up with his uncle's rules and regulations until September when he started university, or run away in the dead of night and hope to be picked up off the streets by some wealthy gentleman and taken back to his home to become his princess.

The latter would be James's Cinderella dream come through—or could make him end up dead in a ditch somewhere.

When he went into the walk-in closet, he found his school uniform laid out for him and in the most impeccable condition he'd ever seen. His uncle's valet Carstairs had had everything crisply ironed and James's black shoes polished.

In the formal dining room, he found his uncle wearing a suit that James was sure he'd seen him wear to the school in his role as headmaster.

They sat at opposite ends of the table while Simmons served them a five-course meal that included Cornish sea bass and lamb cutlets and ended with a milk chocolate and hazelnut soufflé drizzled with salted caramel.

Everything was tasty, but his uncle had reverted back to his taciturn self and James was happy when the meal was finally over.

"Good night, Uncle Edward," he said as he rose to leave the table.

"Good night, James." His uncle didn't even look up when he said the words.

Life's going to be as boring as hell!

James wished now that he'd grabbed a bottle of liquor from his father's well stocked cabinet. The only reason he had resisted temptation was that he had been positive his uncle would have consider that 'reckless living'.

The door opened before he could reach up to tug off his school tie and James spun around in surprise.

His uncle came into the room and closed the door.

What the hell?

He would have to lock the door in future, if his uncle couldn't extend the common courtesy of knocking first.

It was bad enough that despite the house having five bedrooms, his uncle had assigned James the room right next to his.

James masturbated often and had no plans of stopping just because he was under his uncle's roof. But with his uncle's ears on the other side of the walls, James would have to restrain his groans when he came.

Without a word his uncle placed a tube of something James didn't recognize on the bedside table, sat on the bed and ordered, "Stand up straight, boy!"

James instantly obeyed.

"Are you a virgin?"

"Uncle Edward?" he queried.

"Are you a virgin?"

"Yes," James replied, feeling his face redden.

"Have you ever sucked a man's cock?"

"No," he said, and added silently, "But only because I've never had the bloody opportunity!"

"Have you ever even been kissed?" his uncle demanded.

"No," he admitted, knowing that his face must now resemble a beetroot.

"Good," his uncle said with seeming satisfaction and pulled James onto his lap.

I'm eighteen, not eight, Uncle Edward!

Confused, James stared at him.

"Uncle Edward?" he questioned.

"Tonight, my boy," his uncle growled. "Your sweet little asshole is mine!"

James's mouth opened wide in shock.

"Close your mouth for now, my boy. I will need it wide open later to take my cock."

Am I dreaming?

James surreptitiously pinched his arm and winched.

Yes, he was awake.

"Let's get these off you first," his uncle said and reached for James's tie. "I would rip them off, but you'll need them for another day."

James stood almost motionless as his uncle quickly stripped off his clothes.

Was this some kind of punishment?

Was his uncle the kind of 'straight' man who punished gay men for being gay?

Then his uncle stood up, lowered his head and kissed James tenderly.

James gasped in surprise.

"Uncle Edward?"

"I guess that your father never told you that I'm as gay as the day," his uncle said with a deep chuckle.

"You, Uncle Edward?"

James's gaydar wasn't very well developed but he'd had no idea that his uncle was into men.

"And not only am I gay," his uncle confirmed. "I've waited for two whole years to fuck you."

"Two years?"

"Your father insisted."

"What has Dad got to do with this?" James asked, totally bewildered by the turn of events.

"He knows," his uncle replied, lifting James bodily and sitting back down on the bed with his nephew in his lap.

"Dad knows?" James would have fallen off in shock, if his uncle's strong arms weren't wrapped so tightly around him.

"He knows," his uncle repeated. "But he forbade me to touch you until you were eighteen. The wait has been torture."

Then his uncle started pressing kisses to James's torso and repeating the words, "My dear, dear boy!"

James could scarcely wrap his mind around the thought that not only was he sitting on his uncle's lap and about to be fucked by him, it would be with his own father's blessing.

His uncle shifted and laid him on the bed, before he got to his feet and quickly slipped out of his clothes.

James had seen his father in Speedos on family holidays.

It shouldn't be any different seeing his uncle's body, but it was—Edward's was magnificent. He barely had time to give it more than a cursory glance before his gaze zeroed in on his uncle's middle.

He gasped.

That's not going to fit into my little butthole!

His uncle saw his expression and laughed.

"Trust me, it will fit."

"Are you sure?"

"A tube of lube," his uncle told him, picking up the tube he'd put on the top of the bedside table earlier, "has always been my best friend...apart from your father, of course."

His uncle kissed James again as he came to lie on the bed beside him, his large hand immediately cupping the left cheek of James's butt and squeezing.

"So young, firm and supple." His uncle groaned and sat up on the bed. "I can't wait another minute for my first glance at your sweet little virgin asshole."

The next minute James was facedown on the bed, his butt shooting the ceiling.

"Divine!" His uncle growled and buried his face between James's butt cheeks.

Then James gasped as he felt his uncle's tongue circling his butthole and the tip trying to push inside it.

Holy fuck!

Realizing that it was in hand's reach, James stretched behind to encircle his uncle's cock with his fingers.

"No, dear boy." His uncle gently moved James's hand away. "I need to prepare you properly before I fuck you. It will take time and a lot of patience." His uncle made another sound that was suspiciously like a growl and audibly gritted his teeth. "But I will immensely enjoy breaking your tight little asshole."

James lay still for the next several minutes, almost sobbing in arousal as his uncle slowly worked his way from one finger to three.

"You have the perfect asshole for fucking, dear boy," his uncle told him. Repelling my fingers and sucking them deeper all at the same time. I can't wait to replace them with my cock."

"And I can't wait to feel it inside me," James moaned.

He really couldn't.

Finally, his uncle knelt behind him and placed his cock at his butthole.

"Play with your cock," he instructed as he worked the head past James's tight anal muscles.

It felt amazing, but James wanted more.

He wanted to see himself being fucked.

Not worrying about potentially snapping his neck, James contorted his body until he could see his uncle's cock slowly disappear into his butthole.

It was better than any porn he'd ever watched.

And although, seeing was believing, he couldn't believe that he was taking what looked like a solid eight or nine inches inside his previously virgin butthole.

It hurt but good.

"Oh dear boy," his uncle was then hugging him tightly and making the tiniest thrusts with his hips. "Your little asshole is perfection!"

James's hand tightened on his own cock and the next minute he was shooting his cum over the bed sheets.

His uncle soon followed with a loud groan that sounded full of triumph and satisfaction.

And took James twice more that night.

The sun was already peeping over the horizon when his uncle said with clear reluctance in his voice, "If I don't stop now you won't be able to sit down for a week. Since I intend to have you every day for at least the next six months, I have to rein in my pleasure for the moment."

James gasped as his uncle slowly withdrew his still fully-erect cock.

Taking James's hand, he wrapped it around the shaft and then placed his larger hand over it and showed his nephew how to pump it.

When he came, his uncle's cum shot across the bed in an impressive arc.

"You were too tired for your first cock-sucking lesson tonight, but the next time, you will use your mouth and drink every drop."

"Yes, please!"