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Uncle Pete

"An old dog teaches me new tricks..."

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Uncle Pete was one of the inhabitants of the village I lived in. I had grown up in a family where first names were only ever used, but as everyone in town referred to him as Uncle Pete, I simply followed suit. Uncle Pete was a pleasant man in his early seventies, and manufactured the most beautiful fire stokers made of wood and metal. He had also played in the village’s local band several years before, as the piano accordionist. Unlike the other male residents of the village, he only stood five feet eight inches tall. Most men in the area were over six feet tall and I always needed to look upwards, when I engaged them in conversation.

The first time I saw Uncle Pete he and another old guy, performed two special requests with the local band at a dance. A month or so later, I was properly introduced to him when he hand delivered one of his fire stokers to a man at the town’s pub. I was blown away by the object and immediately ordered one from him. A month or so later, he delivered my fire stoker and I happily paid him for the masterpiece. Although I saw him coming and going from the shop across the road, I did not personally encounter him again, until two months later.

Uncle Pete arrived at my gallery one morning, in search of a favour. He asked me if I would type a letter for him. Assuming that it was a business letter of sorts, I was surprised to find that he wanted me to write a letter from him to his grandson… from Santa Claus. Uncle Pete went on to tell me that although his grandson was twenty-four, due to a birth defect he only had the mentality of a six year old boy. This grandson lived with Uncle Pete and his wife, and had apparently taken to stealing all the biscuits in their house. Uncle Pete felt that a stern letter from Santa Claus might solve their problem, especially with the upcoming Christmas season upon us. I wrote the ‘Santa is watching you’ letter for him and Uncle Pete left happy, a short while later. I must admit, that I laughed about this for many days afterward.

A month later, Uncle Pete once again arrived at the gallery. He was constructing a wooden tractor for another grandchild and asked me to Google a famous make of tractor. He wanted me to print a picture of the dashboard of the tractor, so that he could replicate it. I pulled up a chair for him next to mine and invited him to take a seat at the computer. As he sat down he moved his chair slightly away from me, before saying, “I don’t want to sit to close to you.” Supposing that it may be a homophobic gesture of sorts a flash of annoyance went through my mind.

Uncle Pete then shyly repeated, “I don’t want to sit too close to you, because whenever I’m near you, I always feel like touching you.” I was totally gobsmacked! The admission that then followed blew me away even further; Uncle Pete then told that many decades before, in the early nineteen-seventies, he had worked for a boss who demanded sex from him. Although both of them were married men, their relationship endured for two years. In a conspiratorial fashion he informed me that he had grown up in a strict family where you always obeyed your parents. This culture had naturally spilt over into adult life, where one simply did as your boss instructed. Though initially reluctant, he admitted that he developed a rubber arm rather quickly and soon began to look forward to their encounters. I was completely floored!

After his revelation he gingerly moved his hand onto my knee.

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“Jeez Uncle Pete… I don’t know what to say,” I countered, completely stunned.

“When we’re alone like this, please just call me Pete,” he requested.

As his hand moved further up my thigh I was totally dumbfounded, “Sure Pete,” was all I could manage to say. Pete’s hand then located my crotch, before he commenced fondling me.

“I want you David,” Pete uttered with a shaky voice, bristling with lust. The imploring look in his eyes was so heart-warming that I simply couldn’t refuse him, as his hand became more animated. Pete then stood up and asked me to turn my chair to face him. Leaning forward, with both his hands on the arms of my chair, Pete’s mouth closed in on lips. He was panting with excitement as he began kissing me. “Jesus, David, I’ve wanted to do this for long. Please touch me, play with my dick, please David,” he begged in a gasping fashion.

I moved my right hand forward and clamped onto his crotch. Pete’s dick was rock hard. “Aah, fuck yes, play with my knob,” he intoned between kisses. Lifting his right hand off the arm rest Pete gripped hold of the back of my head, compressing our faces together. Excited groans were reverberating in my mouth as he lustfully beset my lips. Minutes later, Pete stood up and after frantically fumbling with his belt buckle, undid his trousers before letting them flop to the floor. Instantly, his underpants followed. Cupping my head and trembling with horniness he pleaded, “Suck me David, please, please David, suck my cock.”

Pete beautiful uncut dick was quite average and it comfortably conquered my mouth. As he slowly fucked my face, his body shook as mumbles of contentment stammered from his lips. He had a heavenly look on his face, and his excitement was palpable. “Oh god, David, Jesus, ah, ah, aah,” he kept intoning over and over. I could tell he wouldn’t last too long and when he asked if he could cum in my mouth, I nodded yes. I had to steady Pete’s shaking body as he unloaded.

Afterward, he bent down and gave me an appreciative kiss. “Now, I want you to fuck me, just like my boss did once I had cum in his mouth.” Pete entreated. After moving towards the back of the sofa, he lowered his body and pulled his cheeks apart. “Fuck me hard, David, please, just like my boss use to do,” he stammered excitedly. Pete grunted as I entered him swiftly and began to thrust. “Harder, harder, please, David,” he grunted. I pummelled him mercilessly to sighs of delight from him. I continually pulled my knob all the way out, before stabbing his hole as hard as I could.

Delighted with my actions, Pete commenced tugging on his cock feverishly. “Tell me when you’re going to cum, Pete,” I ordered.

“Not long now, David,” he whimpered. “Ah, aah, now David, now,” he gushed. Clamping onto his hips manically I shot my spunk into his twitching backside.

I knew that Pete was re-enacting his passion from decades earlier and our sessions would always follow the same format. I had no problem with Pete reviving his fantasy. Pete would visit every three weeks or so at around eight o’clock in the morning, after sending me a confirmation SMS the night before. My gallery always opened at nine a.m., by which time Pete was well on his way. Truthfully, I really enjoyed our sessions. The unbridled joy that he derived from our encounters was always a total delight to me.

 

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Written by Tuppie
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