I’d agreed to another consulting gig with my former employers; they were buying sixteen dealerships this time in San Diego area. The closing was on Wednesday. I was to be there for that, to change authorities on all the bank and supplier accounts, meet with the GM’s and their senior managers … all before Kent got in on Saturday; he’d been closing-out an engagement of his own that wasn’t closing quietly.
My former employers who were again my employers were exceptionally generous to me as they always were. They were like parents to me and my kids and now later to Kent; they cared, they showed it, and I could refuse them nothing except for insisting on retirement a few years ago; this would be my third consulting gig for them since that. Like the others before it the financial impact would be epic to us; nearly two years of our living expenses for a month’s work. And in San Diego away from the north Florida winter to boot. The lucrative financial terms and Kent’s uncanny rock-bottom air-fare finding skills allowed us to book flights for our third Daniel to join us for weekends. Thus my agreement to do it.
This gig had a twist; my employers’ grown grandson as a “trainee.” Brandon, his older brother Nate, and his cousins all called me “uncle Al.” I’d been there when he and they were all born; most literally there. In Bran’s case he’d nearly not survived the birth along with his mother but we were all blessed with a happy ending.
Brandon was in the middle of my children’s range and they and my two (remaining) children (after my oldest son’s death) remained close friends.
Unlike my own kids the golden spoon Brandon was born with and raised with had kept him from settling down into a normal adult life of focus. His grandparents had finally intervened when he’d been twenty-five, herded him through his final years of under-graduate, and even pushed him through an MBA. And now he was my “trainee” a few days before his thirtieth birthday; he, Kent, and I would celebrate it on the weekend in San Diego. He’d already planned a second birthday celebration when Daniel got there the second weekend; and a “birthday week” in between. “If I’m going to become middle-aged and “gay-dead” I might as well go in style,” he’d joked with his deep-voices laugh.
Bran had spent several years in the UK playing rugby. He’d had some success during his first time at college, was recruited for a minor team, loved the attention, and went with it. A bad knee injury that took him off the field led to two years of partying during what started as his recovery was what led to his grandparents’ intervention. And now here we were in his grandparents’ G700 streaking across the southern sky; their status symbol of immigrant children who escaped fascist Italy during Mussolini’s regime made very very good in the US.
Yes; they’d “sent the jet” down from New Jersey with Brandon to “pick me up on the way” to San Diego. I hadn’t protested too much; having the time to catch-up with Bran was the draw.
Bran had really blossomed; so much so that he took my breath away. Tall and built like my husband Kent; his years of pro sports had stayed with him as hard muscle and easy athletic movement style. He sat opposite me maintaining eye contact, smiling as we talked, and only occasionally adjusting an unavoidable crotch bulge as I faced an epic man-spread of his long bare hairy muscular legs. Brandon had worn light blue Jeb North shorts out of the arctic temps in New Jersey exposing his fitness magazine quality quads to match an equally developed upper body of broad shoulders and narrow waist. “We’re going to the tropics Uncle Al; why not get a head start?” Despite my semi-paternal relationship to him I was … distracted. The only flaw on his young body was some nasty scars on his right knee that gave even more character. Worst of all I was attracted. Those wide shoulders, powerful pecs and arms, black curly hairs all visible at his open collar and along those sculpted arms and even the backs of his powerful veiny hands. I don’t remember noticing his brother or cousin this way; I’d certainly never felt myself flush and sweat from looking at them like I was looking at Bran.
“Uncle Al you know the video studio Say Uncle?” What the fuck! That came out of the blue. “Yeah I can see you do.” His hand returns to his bulge and works it openly now, his impressive form completely visible inside those shorts, and one leg pulled up just enough that his fat tip looks imminently exposed … He’s fuckin’ commando?!?! “I think of you and Kent and me every time I jack-off to a Say Uncle clip.” He paused with his eyes piercing mine. “And I do that a lot!”
Trapped in the airborne projectile for another three hours! If I hadn’t had my fill of the catholic church long ago I’d look heavenward and ask if this was a test! As it was I was clutching imaginary pearls. “Listen Bran … “ I started but his words and his big dick in his clenched grip stopped me cold.
“FUCK it makes me hot when you call me Bran!” he said huskily as his dick grew in his shorts; the uncut wet head now visible. “I don’t know how ‘Donny’ caught on in the UK, but basically my bros and other friends call me that now.” He paused and gave me a comely grin and squeezed his fattening dick again. “I really like hearing you call me ‘Bran’. I want to hear you say it while you’ve got me down and are … ”
“Brandon!” I admonished him. “You’re like a son to me! I was there when you were born.”
“That’s SO fucking’ hot!” he said and unbuckled his seat belt. Falling to the plush carpeted floor of the cabin between us he came the few feet to between my legs and ran his hands up to where my own dick was straining my tactical pants. He looked me in the eye and challenged me. “If you tell me you don’t want me … “
He gripped my hard-on and I felt the sweat gush down my back and puddle in my landing patch above my ass. Part of it was the shame of realizing I had a hard-on for my nephew; part of it was knowing I was going to act on it.
“You’ll what?” I croaked.
His grin was so full of filth and invitation that I throbbed in his hand as he teased me through the layers of fabric. “I’ll do the same thing I’ll do if you don’t; the same thing I’ve wanted to do since I was in prep school.” And then he unzipped me deftly. Clearly this wasn’t his first time unzipping a fully hard man’s pants when he was seated.
“Brandon this could ruin everything!” I pleaded as he found my boxer briefs and wrestled me out over the waistband of them and hooked them under my aching balls.
His gaze never left mine. “Or it could be the hottest fuckin’ thing ever. At least until you and Kent and I are ALL together; in my Jack fantasies those are always … draining.”
And then his mouth was fully on me, I was penetrating his throat in one gulp, and God help me my hands were clamped in his cropped curly hair forcing my way into his throat farther. And his moans made me know he meant what he said and had wanted this for a very long time.
The kid is a natural. He knows how to treat a dick, he knows how to treat a guy’s balls too which is my weakness, and he knows how to relax his throat and take a big dick like a whore. He also knows how to use his tongue on the base of a shaft while humming to titillate the most sensitive areas of the corona and frenulum. I was gasping and face-fucking him and had completely forgotten that this was my dearest friends’ grandson and he’d grown-up with my kids.
Brandon also never broke eye contact; his lascivious and ecstatic gaze held me like a tractor beam. And it conveyed every filthy intention he had; clearly this was just the starter.
After he’d been at it and I was powerless to attempt resistance for several minutes we hit a sudden bump of turbulence which nearly broke his nose on my pubic bone and sent him on his ass gagging after my hard-on was roughly jerked out of his throat and mouth. Good thing; another sixty seconds at the rate he’d been going and I’d have been unloading fast like a high school boy on a date in the back seat of a car. I collapsed back into the plush club chair and continued gasping for breath. “Where’d you learn to handle dick like that?” I demanded.
Bran was still coughing and getting himself back on his knees. “I went to an all-boys Catholic school Uncle Al” he smirked. “Then prep school, college, and then I played pro English football,” he said with a bigger smirk. “You’d be surprised and maybe proud of what I learned to do with cocks; you’re certainly enjoying this tiny preview.” He let that set in for a moment as he gazed at my spit-shiny dick waving proudly. “And how plentiful the opps were in the locker rooms and other places. And not for nothin’ Uncle Al but dammit I fuckin’ KNEW you were hung! I mean you always hang heavy that’s obvious: but that cock is a fuckin’ masterPIECE!” He said the last directly to my dick before looking back up to meet my terrified stare. “And dammit it made and MAKES me fuckin’ HOT!
I tried to regain control of myself but my dick was having none of that. My terror was fully overcome by my lust. “Get the fuck back on my cock; you’re not edging me boy; you’re draining me!” I growled stunned to hear the words out of my own mouth.
Brandon growled back and did as he was told; throated me easily and skillfully again and picked-up where he’d left-off. I groaned as he regained his tight grip on my hairy balls and pulled; and I groaned louder as the sparks flew through my body. “FUCK YEAH!” I yelled.
“Come on give it up for me,” he gasped with phlegm and drool running down his chin before he resumed his work. Another quick release with his mouth for the words with enough time for him to squeeze my balls and spit out, “Come on fucker! Seed my guts uncle!”
I felt the beginning as my soaked hard-on waved free for that last nano-second before his mouth reclaimed it. Then it was all Hoover-level sucking, throat humming, and one of his big hands stroking and rotating on the base of my shaft every time he pulled back. Of course he never stopped tugging my over-loaded sac and those sparks ricocheting through my body had turned to exploding fire-bombs of internal stimulation. And that dirty but intense gaze up at me. Goddamn I was going to blow in this this young shit’s throat and blast his gut full of cum!
And that’s exactly what I did. My body combusted and exploded and Bran grunted, moaned, choked, groaned, and never stopped pumping my spasming rod nor tugging on my emptying balls. Somewhere toward my third expulsion he started moaning louder and shuddering; he was fucking cumming and hadn’t touched himself! If I hadn’t already lost control that would have done it. As it was my release was … well it was climactic!
He swallowed every drop despite his extreme grunts and gasps around my spasming hard-on. And his grip on my balls was tighter almost to my limit: it felt like he was squeezing it out of me. He finally pulled off me just at the point I’d started squirming from the sensitivity. “Fuck me you cum a fuck-ton!” he said wiping his lips with the back of his hand. Then he licked his slimy hand where he’d wiped it on his mouth; my dick and balls all jumped as our gazes held. Then he said, “That was two sentences Uncle Al. You cum a fuck-ton! And … FUCK ME!”
“You’re a dirty-mouthed slut aren’t you?” I said through not-yet-even breathing. “I had no clue.” The latter was more to myself.
“Oh this?” he said looking up at me with a shit-eating grin and pointing to his mouth. Wait; make that a cum-eating grin. “Just wait until you fuck my tight hot wet bussy; then we’ll talk slutty!”
Was I going to fuck him? God I hoped not; but I knew there was slim chance of that hope being the reality.
“And you’re a dirty fucker anyway; you and Kent both. So don’t act like the surprised indignant daddy here.”
“What?” I essentially shouted in outrage.
“Ummmmm Daniel?” he asked sarcastically. “Uncle Al, Kent, and their latest toy-boy … in the latest thrupple?”
Oh right; that.
“And before that Jef with one F. Both of them hot as fuck and you and Kent for real spit-roasting them until they passed-out no doubt? Don’t think I haven’t noticed that Kent is hung like one of mom’s prized stallions too!”
“Nobody passes or passed-out Bran,” I corrected him feebly.
“Fuck me god dammit! There go a whole segment of my spank bank fantasies! And again; that was two sentences. My mancunt is itching for that club you’ve got between your legs to fuck me until I pass out.”
Although I could feel my dick throbbing it was hardly club-like at that point as I’d just cum. “I’m old enough to be your father; clubbing happens at intervals unlike your quick-recovery dick.” He was in fact hard as nails out the leg of his shorts. “And about you cumming from sucking me?”
Brandon came back on his knees and leaned in and kissed my dick. “Worth the wait and turned me the fuck ON as fuck,” he said gazing up at me with a smile that was more sincere than playful and taunting. He took a finger, dabbed the slime at his very fat tip, then lustily sucked it from his finger while never breaking eye contact. When he was done, “Besides,” he said almost business-like as he then stood and his beautifully thick and slimy dick-head waved in front of me. I also couldn’t take my eyes off the truly HUGE wet blotches in his shorts from his pre-cum explosion apparently when those shorts barely covered him. And I couldn’t avoid my smell of it; very different scent from my own. Pungent and very potent. Many strong male babies died in that maneuver.
Bran was looking at his smart-watch; not Apple and it looked like it was solid gold which it probably was. “We’ve got over three and a half hours left for Al Junior to recharge and deliver like I’m certain you will.”
And with that he went to the jet’s restroom at the back which I knew included a shower. The front restroom nearest to us by the cock-pit was just a toilet and sink. Like a normal private jet, I laughed to myself. I leaned my head back and contemplated how many ways I was fucked. Somehow I drifted off and when I stirred upon Brandon’s return, I saw him flopping down in his seat opposite me stark naked. He put a tube of KY down on the glossy inlaid wood table next to him. Looking at me he turned the tube idly on the slick surface and said, “I’m an old-fashioned bottom; I like the time-tested products when I’m about to be cored-out by a Louisville Slugger. And like a Boy Scout I get prepared.”
Totally! That’s how fucked I was.
