The Day My Uncle Discovered My Secret When He Came Back

The old house where my mother and I lived was on a shabby street in the center, one of those blocks that still kept its wooden balconies and tiles worn down by decades of footsteps. It was a two-story building, with long hallways and high ceilings that creaked when the south wind blew. My mother had inherited it from my grandfather and, since her secretary’s salary wasn’t enough to maintain it alone, she had decided to rent out the five rooms on the upper floor to students who came from the provinces looking for a university degree.

I had just turned eighteen and my name was Esteban. To everyone else I was a quiet, diligent boy, the kind who went unnoticed in class and headed straight home after lessons. My mother took pride in me every time a neighbor told her she had an exemplary son. If she had known what I did as soon as the house was empty, she would never have been able to look me in the face again.

My secret had started almost by accident, two years earlier, when I went up to the second floor to look for a tool and walked into a tenant’s room without permission after he had gone to campus. I saw a pair of white briefs thrown beside the bed and, out of a curiosity I couldn’t explain at the time, I picked them up from the floor and brought them to my face. The smell hit me. The smell of a man, of concentrated sweat, of a sweaty cock after a whole day trapped in the fabric, of something intimate I shouldn’t have been smelling. A hot current ran down my stomach to my groin, my dick went hard at once against the seam of my pants, and for the first time in my life I realized this was not some ordinary whim.

From that afternoon on, every time I knew a tenant I was attracted to would be away for a few hours, I stole my mother’s set of keys from the dining-room cabinet and went upstairs. I always looked for the same thing: used underwear, abandoned on a chair or tossed into the wicker basket in the shared bathroom. Some briefs still held the day’s dampness. Others had yellow stains in the front, traces of piss the owner hadn’t bothered to rinse out. Those were the ones I liked most. I pressed them to my nose, breathed in the thick male cock smell deeply, pulled my pants down to my knees, and jerked off sitting on the edge of the stranger’s bed, my hard cock in my fist, imagining what it would be like to have that man on top of me, ramming it into the bottom of my ass without mercy.

I never took anything with me. I always left every garment exactly as I’d found it, folded the same way, in the same angle, with the same crease. I cleaned my load off the floor with toilet paper, flushed the paper down the downstairs bathroom toilet, and swore to myself that that had been the last time. The next week I’d go up again.

***

My uncle Hernán’s arrival at the house completely changed the balance of my little game. Hernán was my mother’s younger brother and had spent eleven years living in Spain, first as a waiter in a bar in Málaga, then as the manager of a mechanic’s workshop on the outskirts of Seville. I had seen him in person only once, when I was nine years old, at Aunt Mariela’s wedding. Back then he was a distant man, just another uncle among many relatives you greet with a quick kiss and forget until the next wedding.

But at fourteen I began to realize that I liked men more than women. And I also started following Hernán on social media. My mother had video calls with him on Sundays, and I always managed to walk past the screen and look at him. Hernán had skin darkened by the sun, broad shoulders, a permanent shadow of stubble marking his jaw. His hands had grown thick and a little clumsy after so many years tightening wrenches. In the photos he posted on Instagram he always wore old tank tops and worn jeans, and in one of those photos the bulge of his cock showed so clearly against the denim that I saved it to my phone and jerked off to it for months. He was exactly the kind of man who appeared in my fantasies when I went upstairs to look for other people’s underwear.

When my mother told us one night during dinner that Hernán was coming back to the country and would be living with us for a couple of months until he found work, I could barely swallow a bite. I told her that sounded fine, that I hoped he’d be able to stay comfortably. That night I jerked off three times in a row thinking about him, with my cock in my hand, imagining myself on my knees sucking my own uncle’s cock until he came all over my face.

***

Hernán arrived on a Tuesday in March with two large suitcases and a leather bag slung over his shoulder. He hugged my mother for a long time in the entryway, speaking to her in that half-Andalusian Spanish he’d picked up on the other side of the Atlantic. When he saw me, he pulled back, looked me up and down, and let out a rough laugh.

—Damn, nephew, you’ve gotten huge. I left you in shorts and come back to find a little gentleman.

He gave me a tight hug. I felt his solid body, the broad chest, his groin brushing my hip for a second. He smelled of blond tobacco and the cheap cologne they sell at airports. When he let go, I had to turn away so he wouldn’t see my red face or the bulge that had formed in my pants.

My mother offered him the largest room on the second floor, the only one with its own bathroom. Hernán unpacked that same afternoon and by nightfall he was settled in as if he had never left. During dinner he talked nonstop about the years in Spain, about the women he’d been with, about the plans he had to start a business here. I watched him in silence, not daring to interrupt, while I wondered how I was going to wait for the first chance he left the house.

The opportunity appeared just three days later.

***

It was a Saturday afternoon. My mother had gone to the supermarket, as she always did on Saturdays, and Hernán had come down to the living room wearing a pressed shirt, perfumed, telling me he was supposed to meet a friend from the neighborhood he hadn’t seen since adolescence for coffee. He winked as he passed by me and told me not to wait for him to have a snack. The front door shut with a dull thud. The house was completely empty.

I ran up the stairs two at a time. My heart was pounding against my ribs and my cock was already half-hard before I even reached the hallway. Hernán’s bedroom door wasn’t locked, as usual. I pushed it open slowly and went in.

The room smelled like him. Like his cologne, the leather of the bag, something deeper that was the smell of his body after three nights in that bed. The bed was unmade. The white sheets still held the shape of his back, a long imprint running from the pillow to halfway down the mattress. On the chair in the corner there was a damp towel and, on top of the towel, a crumpled pair of briefs.

They were cheap briefs, the kind sold three for a few coins in small-town shops, with a wide elastic band and electric-blue fabric. Even after living so many years in Europe, Hernán still wore that rough, no-frills underwear that outlined everything he had underneath in perfect detail. I lifted them with both hands. They were still a little warm, as if he’d taken them off only a few hours earlier. I turned them over to find the front.

The smell was thick. Much stronger than any I had smelled before in that house. The smell of crotch sweat, of mature male skin, of dry piss traces, of a macho’s balls after hours packed into the fabric. The area where the tip of his cock had rested had a little dried yellow stain and, a bit lower, a tiny hard white spot that could only be a forgotten drop of semen. I closed my eyes and breathed in deeply, stuck out my tongue, and licked that white spot until it dissolved in my mouth, tasting the salty, thick flavor of my uncle’s leftover load. My legs went weak. I sat first on the edge of the bed, then let myself fall backward onto the rumpled sheets.

I pulled my pants down to my knees. My cock was already leaking pre-cum from the tip, tight against my stomach. I pressed the briefs against my nose and mouth, breathed in deeply, and started jerking off with my uncle’s smell filling my lungs. I rubbed the fabric over my face, over my lips, over my tongue. I sucked on the spot where the tip of his cock had been. With my other hand I shoved two fingers into my ass, spit-coated, to the knuckle, imagining it was Hernán putting them there. I imagined my uncle walking into the room, catching me there with my fingers buried to the hilt in my hole, grabbing me by the neck, flipping me face-down on the bed, spitting between my cheeks and driving his cock into me in one hard thrust without lubricant, doing to me what I had never even dared to ask for out loud. The fantasy pulled me so deep that I didn’t hear the front door. I didn’t hear footsteps on the stairs. I heard nothing until the doorknob turned.

Hernán walked into the room.

***

I jolted upright, pulled my fingers out of my ass, and hauled my pants up as best I could, but we both knew it was too late. Hernán stood in the doorway, one hand on the frame, looking at me with a calm that scared me more than any shout could have. He saw the briefs thrown on the pillow. He saw the bulge still outlined in my crotch. He saw the wet stain of my own pre-cum on the denim. Then he closed the door behind him without hurry and slid the lock.

—And what do we have here, nephew?

No sound came out of me. My face was red, my hands shaking, the briefs still lying beside the bed. I wanted to invent an excuse, say I was tidying up, that I’d seen them on the floor as I passed by, but the words stuck in my throat in a babble that meant nothing.

—Relax —he said, stepping closer—. Sit down. I’m not going to eat you.

I sat on the edge of the bed, looking at my feet. He remained standing in front of me.

—Please, Uncle. Don’t tell my mom anything. I swear I’ll never do it again…

—Hold on, hold on. Who said anything about your mom?

I lifted my head. Hernán was smiling at me. It wasn’t a smile of anger or mockery. It was something else. Something dirtier. I looked down for a second and saw that a thick bulge was showing against the seam of his pants too.

—I’ve been watching you for days, nephew. How you go red when I come into the kitchen without a shirt. How your eyes go to my bulge when I walk around in my briefs in the hallway. How you freeze when I pass by you. I’m not stupid. I’d already figured something weird was going on.

I swallowed. My throat was so dry it hurt.

—I’m not going to tell my sister anything —he went on, in a lower voice—. But in exchange, you’re going to behave yourself with me. Deal?

I nodded, not really knowing what I was agreeing to. Or knowing perfectly well and not wanting to admit it, even to myself.

Hernán leaned toward me. He rested one hand on my knee and slowly slid it up the inside of my thigh until it brushed the bulge in my pants. With the other hand he lifted the blue briefs from the bed and tossed them aside.

—Instead of sneaking around smelling my stuff and sticking your fingers in your ass thinking about me, nephew, wouldn’t you rather give me a good blowjob for once?

I looked at him without understanding. Or understanding too much, which was the same thing.

—What?

—You heard me. You like men, and you like this —he pressed his palm over my cock through the fabric— even if you don’t dare say it. That much is crystal clear. And it turns out my date canceled at the last minute today, so I had the afternoon free and I was in the mood to get off. If you step in to take the place of the lady who didn’t show up, I swear tomorrow I won’t remember a thing I saw in this room.

—But… my mom might come back —I murmured.

—What time did she leave?

—About half an hour ago.

—And how long does shopping take?

—An hour, more or less.

Hernán smiled again, with that broad, crooked smirk that made my skin prickle.

—We’ve got plenty of time for you to learn how to suck a cock like mine.

***

He stood in front of me. Without taking his eyes off me, he unfastened his belt. The metallic sound of the buckle in the room’s silence made me clamp my thighs together. Then the button of his pants. Then the zipper, tooth by tooth, unhurried, drawing out the moment. When he let the fabric fall to his ankles, he had on another pair of those cheap briefs underneath, this time dark green, bulging in the center in a way that left no doubt. The tip of his cock pushed the fabric outward, making a thick lump, and a dark patch of moisture spread right where the head pressed.

—Take it out for me —he said—. With your teeth.

I knelt on the floor between his legs. I brought my face close to his groin and breathed in. The smell was the same one I’d been smelling in the briefs a few minutes earlier, but multiplied, alive, coming straight from his body. I bit the waistband of the briefs and pulled down slowly. His cock bounced against my cheek when it was freed.

His cock was exactly as I had imagined it all those months, but bigger. Big, thick, dark-skinned, surrounded by a dense mat of black hair that climbed up to his navel. His balls hung heavy beneath, almost brushing the inner side of his thighs. The head was shiny, already awake, pointing forward, with a clear drop beading at the tip. I stared at it without being able to react, not knowing whether what I felt was fear, disgust, desire, or all three at once, but knowing with absolute certainty that I wanted it in my mouth right now.

—Stick your tongue out first —he said, grabbing his cock by the base and tapping it lightly against my lips—. Lick that drop. It’s the free sample.

I obeyed. I stuck out my tongue and licked the tip. The taste was salty, thick, slightly bitter. I cleaned my lips with my tongue and swallowed. Hernán smiled down at me, hands on his hips, looking at me the way someone looks at an animal they’ve just tamed.

—Now the balls. Put them in your mouth. One at a time.

He lifted his cock against his stomach to give me room. His balls hung right in front of my face. I took one into my mouth. Then the other. I sucked them slowly, feeling the weight, the concentrated smell, the coarse hairs that tickled my tongue. Hernán let out a long, satisfied growl.

—Good boy. Now the cock. Mouth wide open. And watch the teeth, nephew, or you’re going to have a bad time.

He took me by the nape with a firm hand, without violence but without asking permission, and brought my face up to his groin. I opened my mouth. He slid it in little by little, first the thick head, which spread my lips wider than I’d expected. Then a little more, until I felt it hit my palate. Then a little more still, to the back of my throat, until my eyes filled with tears. The concentrated smell of his body, the same one I had smelled so many times in his clothes, now hit me straight in the nose, with the mat of black hair pressed against my face.

I started moving the way I had imagined in hundreds of lonely handjobs, clumsy at first, then finding a rhythm. I took the cock almost all the way out, let the head rest on my tongue, sucked it with hollowed cheeks, and took it back down to the hilt. Every time the tip hit my throat I gagged, but I forced myself to endure it. Saliva started running down my chin, my neck, soaking my T-shirt.

—Fuck —he muttered, throwing his head back—. You suck it better than a lot of women. Look at me, nephew. Look at me while you suck me.

I raised my eyes without taking it out of my mouth. Our gazes met and I felt his cock swell even more between my lips.

—That’s it. That’s how I like it. Take it out for a second and spit on it.

I pulled it out. A long string of saliva hung from my mouth to the head. He grabbed it and spread it all over the shaft, coating it well.

—Now work your tongue under the frenulum. There, right there underneath. Lick it like it’s ice cream.

I obeyed him. I ran my tongue broad and flat beneath the head, over and over, while my hand worked the shaft slick with saliva. Hernán clenched his teeth and dug his fingers into my scalp.

—Yes, yes, like that, suck that cock, nephew. That cock you liked so much smelling in the briefs.

He shoved it back into my mouth. This time he grabbed with both hands and started moving himself, thrusting, fucking my mouth at his own pace. The tip hit the back of my throat again and again until I learned to loosen up and let it pass. His balls rocked against my chin. Saliva dripped in streams.

—Is this the first time you’ve done this, nephew?

I nodded without taking it out of my mouth.

—Liar. No way. You have to have sucked cock before.

I shook my head.

He gave a short, surprised laugh.

—Then you’re a natural talent. A born cock-sucking nephew. Keep going, come on, keep it up.

***

We stayed like that for almost ten minutes. Me kneeling on the floor, my knees aching against the boards, my jaw cramping, and the other man’s cock coming in and out without pause. Him standing by the bed, both hands on my head, setting the pace without gentleness, fucking my mouth as if it were a pussy. At times I heard him holding his breath. At times he murmured broken phrases in that Andalusian Spanish that had stuck to him: “that’s it, fuck,” “what a little mouth, cunt,” “swallow my cock whole.” Every now and then he yanked his dick out of my mouth and rubbed it all over my face, my cheeks, my nose, my closed eyes, smearing me with saliva and pre-cum.

Without stopping fucking my mouth, he bent down a little and slipped one hand under my pants. He groped my hard cock, squeezing all of it in his fist. I moaned with my mouth full.

—You’ve got a nice hard little dick, nephew. Looks like you love sucking cock.

He pulled it out of my mouth. My jaw was so tired it hurt to close it. Hernán grabbed my hair and guided my face toward his balls.

—Now the balls again. Suck them good while I work myself.

He jerked off at the level of my forehead, his saliva-wet cock brushing against my face, while I sucked his balls one by one, then both together, pulling them deep into my mouth. His breathing began to break. His hand moved faster and faster over his cock.

—Open your mouth, nephew. Open it wide. Stick out your tongue.

I did as I was told. I stuck out my tongue as far as I could and waited, looking up at him from below. Hernán clenched his teeth, gripped himself harder, and let out a long, rough, animal groan. The first rope of semen hit my cheek, hot and thick. The second fell into my mouth, onto my tongue. The third, fourth, and fifth filled my lips, chin, and jaw and dripped down my neck. It was far more than I had expected. It was a long, abundant burst, held back for who knew how many days.

—Swallow it, bastard. All of it. Don’t leave a drop.

I closed my mouth and swallowed what I had inside. The semen went down thick, sticky, with a strong taste that stayed clogging my palate. Then I ran a finger over my face, gathered what had spilled out, and sucked my finger in front of him. Hernán was staring at me with his mouth slightly open, his cock still hard in his fist, shining with saliva and cum.

—Holy shit, nephew. Holy shit.

I stayed still for a few seconds, kneeling on the floor, looking at my hands, my knees aching and my own cock still hard and not yet spent inside my pants. He stepped back and sat heavily on the edge of the bed.

He was breathing hard. His face was flushed and he had a new smile, different, satisfied. His cock hung between his legs, still semi-rigid, gleaming.

—Good boy —he said, ruffling my hair with his hand—. Very good boy.

He came up to me suddenly, slipped his hand inside my pants without asking, grabbed my hard cock, and worked it three, four, five times with his hand squeezed tight. Nothing more was needed. I came right there, with a muffled groan, unloading into my own briefs, soaking the fabric.

—You owed me that too, nephew. I couldn’t let you go away with your balls full.

He pulled his hand out, looked at it, and wiped his fingers on the sheets of his own bed. He laughed.

I wiped my mouth with the back of my wrist. I didn’t know what to say. He stood, pulled up his briefs and pants calmly, fastened his belt. My load stain was still warm against my own thigh, inside the fabric.

—Go wash your face before your mom gets back. And change your briefs, because you’ve made a mess all over yourself. Take the trash down too, so it looks like you were doing something useful.

I walked to the door like a sleepwalker. When I already had my hand on the knob, I heard him add behind me, in a low voice, almost to himself:

—This is just the beginning, nephew. Next time it won’t be only your mouth I use. I’m going to split your ass open with this same cock, and I’m going to leave it so used up you won’t be able to sit down for a week.

I went down the stairs trembling, with his load still coating the back of my throat and mine drying against my skin. In the kitchen, I turned on the tap and washed my face twice, rinsed my mouth with cold water, spat. When my mother came home from the supermarket with the bags, she found me sitting at the table, reading a book upside down, not understanding a single word it said. She asked me if I felt all right. I told her yes.

Upstairs, on the second floor, I heard my uncle’s shower turn on.