I woke up suddenly, momentarily confused as to where I was. The slippery wetness around my groin told me that I’d once again ejaculated in my sleep, soiling my nightshirt and probably the sheets as well.
I always slept with the curtains open and looking up, the view of rolling green hills just outside my window reminded me that I was once again in Hardacre Hall, ancestral home of my dear uncle, Lord Robert “Bobby” Hardacre. Since my parent's deaths when I was in my teens almost 20 years ago, Bobby had been my closest family, by inclination as well as blood.
Also by desire if I’m honest with myself. Bobby and I had always been close (closer still after I lost my parents) and I can still remember the comfort I got from his physical presence when he stayed with me, day and night, during my grief. His smell, his touch, his care, all remained with me since those dark days, but had long since transformed into something closer to desire, despite the age difference and his ignorance of these more than familial feelings.
Tossing the bedclothes aside I looked down the length of my body and saw the evidence of my nocturnal emission tangled in the chaos of my dark pubic bush, my furry stomach also awash in the thick juice. My nightshirt had bunched up around my chest and the mess had dribbled down onto the clean white sheet, soiled after just a single night in residence.
Not that I was too concerned, happy in the knowledge that young Tom Brady, the stablehand, had been assigned to look after me during my stay. I’d fucked him every day for two weeks straight during my last visit, and was looking forward to making good on my promise to let him fuck me in similar fashion this time. My uncle had seemed somewhat taken aback when I specifically asked for him to be my valet, but as the estate was not exactly awash in servants he was only too happy to agree. Spunked up sheets would certainly pose no difficulty for him.
A knock on the door released me from this reverie and I hastily dragged the bedclothes back over me before the door opened and Tom’s handsome face appeared, smiling as usual and a sight for sore eyes.
I relaxed and held my arms out as he entered the room, beckoning him over to the bed. He wasted no time with formalities and was soon in my arms, his solid body evident under the stiff fabric of his uniform.
“Can I get in with you for a few minutes?” he asked, his lips brushing mine with the promise of intimacy. He rolled off me and I pushed back the covers to reveal my messy state, laughing as he surveyed the damage.
“I see you’ve started without me!” he exclaimed, pouting his lips in mock despair. His despair didn’t last long however as he buried his face in my damp bush and inhaled the loamy stench before taking my limp cum-covered cock in his mouth and doing things to my slimey foreskin which were guaranteed to bring it back to life.
“You taste as good as I remember” he mumbled, his mouth full of my root.
“Don’t talk with your mouth full” I responded, pushing my rapidly hardening dick into the back of his mouth, daring him to gag as he took its length with ease. The next best thing to having my cock in Tom’s arsehole was having it in his mouth, as he sucked and tongued me back to stiffness.
When he started pulling on my scrotum after a very pleasant 15 minutes I knew that the game was over. I exploded into his cheeks, his tongue working the underside of my knob, forcing the spunk from my balls in spurt after glorious spurt, all of which he gulped down like the greedy chap he is. He probed my piss slit as it dribbled the last remaining globules of seed, desperate to coax every last drop from my swollen knob.
“Welcome back, Sir” he sardonically offered, as my spent cock slid from his cum-soaked lips. “Always happy to be of service.”
I closed my eyes and breathed in lungfuls of air while he snuggled down onto my sweaty stomach, kissing my naval every so often, gently stroking my wet bush and tickling my heavy balls. I could easily have drifted off back to sleep but breakfast called, and sex always made me hungry.
I watched as he rolled off the bed and disappeared into the ensuite bathroom, the sound of running water telling me that a steaming bath was on the way. I forced myself up and sat on the side of the bed for a minute or two, gazing dreamily out of the window at the beautiful scene of receding fields and distant hills. It was always good to be back at Hardacre.
Padding into the bathroom I stood over the toilet bowl and let loose my normal flood of morning piss, sighing loudly as the relief flowed through my body. Tom was watching from the door, reminding me of his predilection for my water; a fetish that I was only too happy to indulge, considering it gave him such pleasure.
“More where that came from, I hope” he observed, as I shook off the last remaining drops before stepping into the bath. I assured him that I had an endless supply whenever the thirst came upon him.
Whilst I was bathing I asked him about Uncle Bobby, as I hadn’t yet seen him having arrived by late train last night. Tom looked rather sheepish as he thought about the question, and I told him to spit it out or my arse would be off-limits for the duration; a threat I had no intention of honouring but which was enough to loosen his tongue.
“He’s fine, just a bit distracted I think” was the non-committal answer. I pressed him further, worried that my uncle was unwell, or in some kind of trouble. Tom seemed unsure how to explain, but I reassured him that anything he said to me would remain between the two of us, along with all of the other secrets we shared.
“Well, if you must know, he tosses himself off at least two or three times every day, and lord knows how often at night.” He looked at me as if I might be angry at such an observation, but instead I burst out laughing and asked him exactly how he knew.
He still seemed reticent to elaborate, but had discovered my uncle pleasuring himself secretly in the woods on any number of occasions, and being an observant lad had also noticed the bulge in his pants at various times of the day, and presumably at night as well. Uncle Bobby was a handsome chap, carrying his years well, and I wondered if a bit of spying was all that Tom had indulged in. I would investigate that later.
I could feel my todger stiffening in the warm, soapy water as I imagined Bobby with his beautiful cock sticking out of his immaculately tailored trousers, his hand drawing its tight foreskin back and forth as he brought himself closer and closer to climax.
Imagination of course. I’d caught glimpses of my uncle naked, but they’d been furtive and amounted to no more than impressions and hastily remembered visions, more than likely embellished by my childish eye. Still, he remained a kind of sexual idee-fixe, and knowing that he was so close was probably responsible for my nocturnal emissions and soiled sheets.
Dinner that night was a strained affair, Bobby seemed out of sorts while I was distracted by Tom occasionally pressing his hard cock up against my back while he waited on me, causing me some difficulties. I was also concerned about Bobby and the absence of his domineering wife Lady Marjorie, normally a commanding presence at any social gathering, but at least she could keep the conversation moving along.
“She’s left me Benjamin.” A simple statement out of nowhere. He looked up and saw the surprise on my face. Tom shuffled uneasily behind me and headed for the door, but was stopped by Bobby who told him to stay. “No use trying to keep it a secret. She’s not coming back.”
I was flabbergasted but tried not to show it (with only minimal success I suspect) but he clearly wanted to talk and I was keen to find out more, as well as being concerned as to what precisely had gone wrong and how I could help, if at all.
“She found me with Tom in the stable, no going back I’m afraid.” I looked up at Tom, attempting to make himself invisible as he edged towards the door.
Silence reigned.
Bobby left the dinner table table almost immediately after this confession, and I found myself unexpectedly alone in the dining room, Tom having also successfully managed to exit.
He was back in my bedroom when I returned, fiddling unconvincingly with my shirts and looking about as miserable as it’s possible to look when you’re as handsome as fuck, and rogering your boss as well as his only nephew.
“Haven’t we been busy” I observed, barely able to suppress the guffaw that was threatening to erupt from my mouth. I wondered how much fun I should have at his expense, but truth to tell the thought of him and Bobby doing unspeakable things to each other was uppermost in my perverted mind, and I desperately wanted to know more.
A knock on the door put paid to further enquiries however, and without waiting for an answer my uncle came in, a picture of embarrassment and misery. He closed the door behind him and just stood there, wanting to speak but unable to start. Before the silence became unbearable I went to him and put my arms around him, hugging him tightly as if our lives depended on it. He returned the embrace and we remained locked for I don’t know how long.
When we finally parted we’d both been crying, and looking across at Tom I realised that he too had tears in his eyes. I also (conspicuously so!) had a hardon in my pants, despite the situation, or perhaps because of it. Knowing that my uncle was not averse to sex with men was proving a powerful aphrodisiac, and the knowledge that he’d been fucking my own in-house lover only added fuel to the fire.
“I don’t want to be alone anymore” he stated simply, stifling a sob. “I’ve tried to keep away from Tom, not wanting to get him any more involved in this messy business than he already is, but I can’t bear it.” He broke down again and this time Tom came across and we all held each other, the two of us wrapping my uncle in a protective embrace.
Looking back on the scene, I can’t say precisely how it was that items of clothing began to fall to the floor; I suspect Tom started it (he’s incorrigible), although I wouldn’t be surprised if it was me. I do know that my uncle’s lips felt good against my own, his trimmed moustache soft against my face. His cock (smallish, thick and uncut, just the way I like it) tasted good too, although I discovered that a bit later.
By the time we tumbled onto my bed we were all naked, entangled in each other’s heat and desire. My uncle seemed possessed, almost savage in his lovemaking, fucking Tom, fucking me, then begging us both to fuck him singly and together, a new experience for me.
He came inside both of us and then had more to give as he licked the sweat from our bodies, burying his face in our moist hairy armpits, devouring our cocks and balls as if he wanted to eat them, forcing us to cry out in delirious agony as he worked us to the very edge of pleasure and pain.
His madness was contagious and I fucked them both again and again, all the time being fucked and sucked by one or the other, our bodies awash in sweat and saliva and spunk, a glorious stinking mess.
Tom, never one to surrender first, brought the orgy to a fitting conclusion by kneeling on our chests as we lay there exhausted, pulling on his generous engorged tool (did he ever go soft!?) and sprogging all over our happy faces before collapsing on top of us, finally done. We fell asleep like that, pressed together, embracing, kissing each other gently as sleep slowly overtook us.
When I woke up in the early hours of the morning it was to find Bobby sitting dejected on the side of the bed, lost in dark thoughts. Tom stirred and we both sat up, putting our arms around his shoulders, telling him he wasn’t alone.
“She’ll ruin me boys, I know it. She’s a vindictive woman at the best of times, she’ll want everything, or else the whole world will know. I’ll be ruined. I’m too old to start again.”
From what I knew of his wife (never overly fond of me) I was sure that he was right, which is why it came as a surprise to find Tom chuckling, a look of gentle amusement on his face. I looked daggers at him, but he didn’t take any notice and continued to snigger suggestively.
“Tom, this isn’t funny!” I reprimanded, noticing the perplexed look on my uncle’s face.
“It is , you know” he answered, looking mighty pleased with himself.
“Explain yourself my boy!” Bobby demanded, clearly losing patience.
“Well Sir” he responded coyly, “you know how much you love being fucked up the arse? So does she, and much more besides.”
“You don’t mean?” my uncle exploded, almost managing to look like the wronged husband.
“I just do what I’m told, Sir” Tom explained, a look of unquestioning obedience on his handsome face.
I looked at Bobby, Bobby looked at me, and we both looked at Tom, the very picture of shop-soiled innocence, and we fell upon him like starving wolves on a fatted calf.
