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Neither my husband nor I were close to our families, but for two very different reasons.
Mine was the fact I was born in a painfully small village in East Germany and I fucked off to Berlin the first chance I got. My family liked the country life, and lived rather secluded. They knew I was up to no good in Berlin (back in those days, you had to do what you could to survive) but they never passed judgement. My parents weren't particularly "gay friendly," but they firmly believed in minding your own damn business, and that included keeping out of my sex life. When I told them I'd met an American man who was going to help me emigrate, they didn't ask any questions and gave me their best. Thankfully, the word for "friend" and "boyfriend" is the same in German, so I didn't have to pick what to call him in front of them.
David's was one of those families that liked to think of themselves as an American dynasty. They had wealth going back a couple of centuries, and maintained it by indoctrinating their children and running their lives for them. They were expected to get married in their early 20s, to a person of the opposite sex, of course, who got the whole family's approval. (I liked to imagine them inspecting potential in-laws' teeth the way you do to a horse before you buy it.) David's gayness didn't fit in with their plans, and his refusal to "give it up" meant he was striken from the family tree. His oldest sister was told to keep her maiden name after marriage and pass it on to her children.
David was given a small amount of money (by their standards) and asked to leave and never come back. An 18-year-old boy from Connecticut, he moved to New York City. Overnight, he went from being the only gay boy he knew, to only being surrounded by other queer people. Most of them came from much humbler beginnings, so he hid the truth about his family and his money at first; he wanted to be "just like everyone else." He soon came to understand that, in a way, he was lucky: many of his new friends had been much younger when they were kicked out, some of them not even teenagers yet.
David found a way to put himself through college and get a decent-paying job. A couple of years later, he decided to treat himself to a trip through Europe, which is how he and I met. A few short years later, we were living together in America and we had our son, and we were all the family we had or needed. For 25 years.
Meeting Nathanael was like meeting a younger David for the second time. One unsuspecting evening, I walked in home from work to find him sitting at the kitchen table with my husband and my son.
"Nathan is my sister Katherine's boy," my husband told me. He himself had known Nathan for just a few hours longer than I have.
Acquaintances were made, and David and I retreated to our bedroom for a quick private chat. Apparently, Nathan had shown up out of the blue. He had said nothing about what he was doing here in Boston. I was extremely weary. He was, after all, a stranger, and I had no reason to trust David's family. I'd never met any of them, and I would've been happy to keep it that way.
Still, my husband seemed curious (excited, even) even though he wouldn't admit it out loud. Who was I to get in the way of him meeting his nephew? Of course I would welcome the boy, or at the very least, tolerate him being here for now. I wasn't happy about the changes that came with that, though.
One of the best things about being distant from our families was that we got to pick the rules. Our son had turned out to be gay as well, and all of us were extremely open when it came to nudity, sex, or anything else. Having a nephew around meant having to put on clothes for dinner. It was a hot summer evening, and I wanted nothing more than to get out of my sweaty business suit and remain naked until tomorrow morning. Now I had to compromise by putting on a T-shirt and shorts in my own house, which I wasn't too thrilled about.
Another unnerving thing was the formality with which Nathan spoke. I guess for some people it is a sign of good manners; to me it felt robotic and unnatural. I'd later learn that Nathan was just back from serving in the military, which explained his demeanor. It's funny: to me, disciplining boys and hearing them call me "Sir" was always a sexual thing. Now, somebody was doing it in all seriousness. And he wasn't a bad-looking somebody either…
We didn't get too much out of Nate that first evening. He was in Boston for now and he had no other place to go, so we offered him our couch. That night, I wanted to fuck David but he asked me to keep it quiet because of Nate, so he just gave me a blowjob instead. When I wanted to go to the kitchen to get some water before falling asleep, David stopped me again.
"Honey, please put something on."
I rolled my eyes.
"I know, I know, I hate being on edge in my own house as well," David added. "But it's only for one night. C'mon, at least put some underwear on before you go through the living room."
"The things I do for you," I said semi-sarcastically, and gave my husband a kiss before putting on a pair of briefs and leaving the room.
On the couch, my husband's nephew was sitting in his underwear, going through his phone. Only one lamp was on and the room was mostly dark.
"Hey," I said. Nathan politely put his phone away as soon as I walked in (or was he trying to hide something? His bulge definitely looked full in his boxer briefs; maybe he'd been looking at porn).
"Hi," he nodded at me. I walked slowly to the fridge, as he continued to say, "Thanks again for letting me stay here."
"Nah, no big deal."
"It's only for tonight. I'll find a place to stay tomorrow. I don't wanna be in your way."
I took a bottle of water and walked back to the couch. I stood in front of Nathan as I opened it and took a swig, standing right next to the lamp. Some water dripped down my chin and onto my chest, but I ignored it.
I didn't know what to say next. "You're not in the way" would've been the polite thing to say, but it would also be a lie.
Instead, I just looked at Nate. It really was uncanny how much he looked like David. David was rather skinny when I met him; Nathan was chunkier, but he packed a good amount of muscle. His disciplined attitude made his body even more admirable. Out of the hundreds of men I've been with, I don't think I've ever met someone like my husband's nephew.
"Ha!" I laughed.
"What?" Nathan smiled. It was only the second time I'd seen him do so.
"I just realized. If you're my husband's nephew, that makes you my nephew as well."
"Huh. I guess it does."
He looked at me standing in front of him with self-restraint that revealed no emotion. Still, I could tell he was paying attention to my body. The huge nipple rings hanging from my pecs were good at drawing attention; I'm sure he didn't see a lot of those in the military. The briefs I wore were white and almost translucent. For a second, I could've sworn he looked at my bulge, which was at his eye level. I wondered if he could tell I had a Prince Albert that was even larger than the piercings on my nips.
"Anyway, I'm off to bed," I said, making my chest bounce in his face a couple times. "Night."
"Good night… Uncle Sven."
I smirked as I walked away. It was the first time I'd heard him crack a joke, and it was a cheeky one. Maybe he wasn't all that bad, this new nephew of ours.
Growing up, having a gay uncle was like having a famous serial killer in my family. Everyone knew about him, but no one spoke of him.
I was on leave from the military two years ago when my grandma died. That prompted my mother to get in touch with her brother through a lawyer, to get him his part of the inheritance. Everyone was surprised that Grandma even left him anything, but I guess the guilt was getting too much for her. Just like what was happening to me.
In the military, I'd realized that I was gay. Surrounded by men, my feelings had become undeniable. I knew my mother had my gay uncle's address, and I felt like if there is anyone in this world I could talk to, it would be him.
I didn't know anything about Uncle Dave other than his name (turns out I didn't even know that; he'd changed his last name). As soon as I met him, the punches kept coming. Bam: he has a husband! Bam: they have a son! BAM: their son is gay as well!
As ridiculous as it may sound, I was more nervous sitting on my uncle's couch in his fancy Boston apartment than I was when I first went to Afghanistan. At least there there was a clear direction; I was told what to do and I followed orders. Here, I was all on my own. What do I say? "Uncle Dave, I'm also gay and I can't tell my family because they'll write me off as well and I have nowhere else to go"?
I remained tight-lipped that first evening, and offered the bare minimum. My newly-found cousin was the complete opposite; he welcomed me enthusiastically and wasted no time inviting me on a family trip to San Francisco. Sven, my uncle's husband, was less warm. I wondered if it had to do with him being German, or if he just didn't trust me.
Maybe that was the reason why I felt an urge to impress him. He intrigued me. With his big muscles, buzzcut hair, and stern expression he looked very prim and proper, just like Lieutenant Nilsson, my former lieutenant. Yet, the tight white tee Sven wore during dinner revealed his pierced nipples. I could tell this man had a darker, kinkier side to him and it fascinated me.
That night, the family invited me to crash on their couch. Feeling awkward about it, I accepted. I waited for everyone to go to their rooms before getting down to my underwear and getting ready for bed. From my uncle's bedroom, I could hear him and Sven talking silently, trying to keep it down so I wouldn't overhear them, I'm sure.
I'd learned to be keen of hearing though, and pretty soon I could make out what sounded like a blowjob. I closed my eyes and pictured my uncle on his knees, sucking his husband off. If anyone had big-dick energy, it was Sven. I pictured what his dick might look like inside my uncle's mouth. Pretty soon, I could hear him cumming even though he was trying to keep it down. I was hard in my underwear, rubbing my cock through the fabric, envying my uncle's sex life.
As the noise died down, I opened my eyes and reached for my phone. Months ago, I'd found Lieutenant Nilsson's Facebook profile and saved some of his photos. Now, feeling curious, I flipped through them as a reminder. Fuck, he really did strike a similarity to Sven.
As for Sven, he surprised me by opening the bedroom door and walking into the living room/kitchen area to get some water.
"Hi," I nodded, quickly putting my phone away.
Sven was wearing a pair of white briefs with an extremely low waist. His whole body screamed "look at me!," it was so impressive.
As he stood in front of me to chat for a few seconds I did my best to maintain my composure, yet I tried to soak in every detail I could. From his chest with those shiny rings hanging off his nipples, to his chiseled abs (an impressive feat at his age), down to his bulge which was right in front of my face. He had no idea that I knew he'd just shot his load inside my uncle's throat. I hoped he couldn't see my bulge as well as I could see his, because my dick was still hard and only getting harder by the second.
"Ha!" he said, "I just realized. If you're my husband's nephew, that makes you my nephew as well."
Indeed. I hadn't really thought of it that way. I didn't just meet one uncle today; I met two.
"Huh. I guess it does," I replied.
We stood in silence for a few seconds, just looking at each other, before he turned around.
"Anyway, I'm off to bed," he said as he walked to his bedroom. "Night."
"Good night… Uncle Sven."
I grinned as I said that, and I had a very strong feeling Sven was smiling as well.
As soon as he shut the door, I lay down on the couch and reached inside my boxer briefs. My cock was too hard by now, I had to pull it out!
I wanted to be on my best behavior, but I was incredibly horny. My eyes closed, I flashed back to the first time I saw Lieutenant Nilsson naked. Next I thought of Sven, almost equally naked, except for that tight pair of briefs on him, standing in front of me next to that lamp that hit him like a spotlight. I thought of the water dripping down his muscled body as he drank out the bottle. I thought of him licking his lips and looking at me in the eyes; an air of formality between us but with a very different undertone.
Finally, I thought of the sounds he made as he was cumming, shooting his load down my uncle's throat. They had a stranger on the other side of the door yet they couldn't help themselves, not even for one night. My toes curled as I thought of my uncles fucking. I wondered if their son ever heard them the way I just did; if they tried to hide from him or if they didn't mind. I couldn't even imagine the things he'd heard or seen growing up like this. I stroked faster and faster, the sensation in my cock got stronger and stronger, until I started shooting my own load all over my hairy chest and belly.
"Ahhh!" I moaned out loudly before realizing I needed to keep it down as well. Grinding my teeth, I let out a few softer moans, my whole body shaking on my uncles' couch. "My two gay uncles," I thought, smiling to myself with my eyes still closed. I scooped up the cum off my torso and fed it to myself, before putting my cock away and falling asleep just like that.