The Summer My Uncle Stopped Seeing Me as a Kid

Uncle Víctor arrived on a Tuesday afternoon with a medium-sized suitcase and the look of someone who’d been sleeping badly for several nights in a row. My parents greeted him with hugs and the sort of words of encouragement they’d already said a hundred times. They’d been telling him the same things for months ever since the separation came out.

“Don’t worry, you’re going to rest here,” my mother told him while she prepared the guest room.

My father had already explained that we were going to the village that week. “The boy’s staying, but you know what Marcos is like. You’ll practically be alone.”

I’d only seen my uncle a few times. Always with Aunt Blanca beside him, a woman who looked at everything as if it owed her money. But that morning at the pool, without Blanca and without the dark suit he showed up in at family gatherings, Víctor was another man.

He was almost forty and had no reason to pretend otherwise. The black swim trunks he wore, tight and short, fit him as if he’d chosen them with intent that same morning. He was stroking through the deep end without hurry, his wet torso shining under the eleven o’clock sun. The bulge outlined itself shamelessly against the damp fabric, a heavy package swaying with each stroke.

I stood there for a moment in the garden doorway, with an excuse ready in case he asked what I was looking at. He didn’t ask.

***

My parents left after lunch. My father left me a list of instructions I wasn’t going to follow. My mother asked me, please, not to lie on the couch shirtless because I’d leave the upholstery sweaty.

As soon as the car pulled away, I went straight to the couch. In my underwear. To sweat the upholstery.

Víctor came down a couple of hours later. He was still in his swim trunks, but he’d put on a white tank top that contrasted with the tan he’d earned somewhere I didn’t know.

“Sorry to interrupt,” he said from the living room doorway. “Now that your parents are gone, I wanted to ask if you’d mind if I took care of one of my travel habits. I usually smoke once in a while.”

He lifted his hand. He had a hand-rolled cigarette pinched between his fingers, thin and crooked at the tip.

“No problem,” I told him. “In the garden. I smoke too, but not in here, because my father can smell everything from the street.”

He nodded with a smile. Then he told me he had another habit, one harder to bring up.

“I do nudism. I like bathing and sunbathing naked. If that makes you uncomfortable, I’ll stop. It’s my thing, and it doesn’t have to affect you.”

I felt my face heat up. Not exactly embarrassment, but close enough.

“It doesn’t bother me at all,” I answered, not taking my eyes off the screen. “Do whatever you want.”

“Are you sure?” he asked. He pointed toward where I was lying, in my boxer briefs as my only garment. “You’re wearing a lot less than I am right now. The difference is minimal.”

My ears burned. He laughed, messed up my hair with his hand like I was twelve, and went out to the garden.

It took me ten minutes to go up to my room.

***

From the window, with my phone in one hand and the other busy around my cock, already hard against the elastic of my briefs, I confirmed that Víctor had the body of someone who takes the hours he spends out of the office seriously. Broad shoulders, flat stomach, pubic hair trimmed almost to nothing. His cock hung thick and heavy over a pair of large balls, with the head half peeking out from the foreskin.

I estimated it at about six inches when soft. I wondered how much more it would be hard, and what that cock would feel like buried all the way in. I pulled my briefs down to my thighs and started jerking off without looking away, biting my lip so I wouldn’t moan. When I saw him come out of the water and shake his cock off with his hand like it was nothing, with his pubes shining and droplets running down from the tip, I came over the windowsill in three hard pulls. A thick burst that stained my hand and the curtain.

My phone vibrated in my hand and I jumped so hard I had to yank myself away from the curtain at once.

“Diego, fuck,” I said under my breath when I saw who was calling. “What?”

“That you invite me over. The photos you sent me are cruel, man.”

“I sent them to make you jealous, not to have you come over.”

“Same thing. Your parents aren’t there, your uncle is naked in the garden, and you call me to tell me not to come. Makes no sense.”

“The logic is that you’re an animal and you’re going to make a mess of things. Besides, Víctor being a nudist doesn’t mean anything’s going to happen. He’s been married half his life.”

There was a brief silence on the other end of the line.

“Didn’t you tell me yesterday he was separating?”

“In process.”

“Then he’s alone, he’s naked in your garden, and he went to stay at his nephew’s house knowing the parents weren’t going to be there. That sounds pretty damn telling to me. Think about it, Marcos.”

Diego hung up without waiting for a reply. I knew him well: crude, direct, no filter. But not stupid. He’d never been stupid.

I kept his words turning over in my head as I went downstairs. My whole family knew I was gay. On both my mother’s and my father’s sides. There was no secret. And Víctor knew it too.

I decided to test the waters before making an idiot of myself.

***

I found him stretched out on the lounger, his sunglasses pushed up onto his forehead. Completely naked, skin still damp from his last swim, cock resting heavy over his thigh with his balls spread open to the sun. He sat up a little when he heard me coming.

“Hey, I’ve got a friend who sometimes comes over to swim because his apartment doesn’t have a pool. Would you mind if he came by these days?”

“Your house, your rules,” he answered. “What’s his name?”

“Diego. Want to see who he is?”

I handed him my phone. I had a photo from that summer of the two of us at the beach. Diego in a competition swim brief because he had the body for competing at anything he wanted.

I saw Víctor’s eyes linger for an extra second on the bulge Diego’s brief left very little to the imagination. I saw him enlarge the image with two fingers, as if he were trying to remember a face he didn’t know from Adam.

“Doesn’t ring a bell,” he said, handing my phone back. “And you’re saying he’d just come to swim?”

“If it doesn’t bother you. I’m only wondering one thing: would you need to cover up to receive him?”

Víctor leaned back again and smiled up at the sky.

“If this is a naked house, then it should be for everyone. I’m not going to be the only one naked here so you two can stare at me. If that’s the plan, you’ll have to sign up too.”

I struggled not to laugh. I turned around and texted Diego: “Come whenever you want. And don’t bother bringing swim trunks.”

The reply came in under a minute, and it was exactly what I expected.

***

While we waited for Diego, Víctor and I got into the water. We stroked around without saying anything for a while, watching each other from opposite ends of the pool with that tense calm that comes just before something that hasn’t happened yet but is already decided.

He got out first. He braced his forearms on the edge and hauled himself up with an ease that made it clear his arms weren’t just for show. He sat on the coping with his feet in the water and his thighs spread. His cock spilled heavy between his legs, already half-hard, the head peeking red beneath the foreskin. Water ran slowly down his abdomen and dripped from his balls.

I stayed in. The sun was hitting me straight on, so I had to narrow my eyes to look at him properly. Or get closer. I got closer.

“Can I ask you something personal?”

“Depends,” I answered.

“You and Diego. Have you ever been together?”

I didn’t answer with words. I shook my head.

“But you’ve seen each other naked,” he added. It wasn’t a question.

“Among other things, yes.”

Víctor leaned forward, elbows on his knees. He looked at me from above with an expression that wasn’t judgment but genuine curiosity.

“What other things?”

“I don’t know if I should tell you that,” I said, more for the pleasure of making him wait than from any real embarrassment.

“Why not? I’m not your father.”

“Diego gets a bit rough when he’s horny,” I began. “He doesn’t think before he acts. If there’s something he wants near him, he goes after it without much ceremony. The last time he slept in my room, he pulled his cock out five minutes later and shoved it in my face. He didn’t ask. He just told me, ‘Suck me off for a bit.’ And I sucked him off for a bit. And in the end he fucked me against the mattress until he came inside. No condom, no warning, nothing.”

“...Fuck...” Víctor murmured. The change in his body was immediate and obvious. His cock pressed hard against his thigh while I talked, swelling until it lifted away from the skin. It must have been nearly eight inches there, thick, with a prominent vein and the head swollen and dark.

“If he were the one here right now,” I continued, eyes fixed on his cock, “he’d already have gotten in the water to look for me. And not exactly to go swimming.”

Silence. Then:

“And would you let him?”

I stepped forward and moved into his shadow. The water came up to my waist. Below, my own cock was so hard it knocked against my navel every time I moved.

“That would depend on who he was.”

Víctor held out his hand from above. I took it. He lifted me out of the water with those arms that were anything but decorative and I sat beside him on the coping, my shoulder brushing his, our feet in the water, our two hard cocks pointing at the sky.

“Before anything happens,” I said, “I need to ask you something.”

“Anything you want.”

“Did you know this could happen when you decided to come?”

It took him a while to answer. He looked me straight in the eye.

“I came thinking I’d ask you to introduce me to someone. A friend, an acquaintance. Someone I could try things with, to find out whether what I’ve been feeling for a while has any real basis or is just a fantasy I built myself.”

“And now?”

“Right now I can’t really remember why I came,” he replied, smiling at the water.

I was the one who leaned toward him. Just an inch, just to make the move. The rest was him. He kissed me slowly, with that careful clumsiness of someone trying something new for the first time. By the third or fourth time there was no clumsiness left: he pushed his tongue deep into my mouth, grabbed the back of my neck with one hand, and with the other went down to my cock and took it in his whole hand, squeezing from top to bottom like he’d spent half his life wanting to touch one.

“Fuck, your cock is hard,” he said against my mouth. “And so hot.”

“Yours isn’t any worse,” I answered, and brought my hand down to his cock. It fit just right in my fist. I worked it slowly, pulling the foreskin back to leave the head bare. It was wet, already leaking a thick drop of precum that slid over the crown.

I caught it with my thumb and brought it to my mouth without taking my eyes off his. Víctor let out a rough gasp and squeezed the back of my neck harder.

***

I asked him not to move. I stepped into the water to my knees and positioned myself on the inner step, with the coping at face height and his cock right in front of me. I grabbed it from the base with my hand, squeezing so the head would swell even more. I heard him hold his breath. I stuck out my tongue and licked the tip from bottom to top, very slowly, collecting all the liquid that kept seeping out of him. And then I took him into my mouth without hesitation, halfway, in one push.

The sound he made was involuntary. A short gasp that then opened into something deeper and more surrendered. His cock grew even harder between my lips, if that was possible.

I worked him without hurry. With my tongue first, tracing his frenulum with the tip, pressing the spot right beneath the head until his hips lifted off the coping on their own. I sucked his balls too, one by one, taking them into my open mouth and letting them drip wet. I went back to his cock and swallowed him whole, until my nose touched the pubic hair and I felt the tip pushing against my uvula. I stayed there for a few seconds, holding back gagging, swallowing saliva around his cock until a shaky “holy fuck” slipped out of him.

I moved my head up and down in rhythm, sucking his whole cock with my mouth sealed around it and my tongue pressed against the underside. Saliva ran down my chin and dripped onto his balls. With one hand I worked the base and with the other I jerked myself in the water without the slightest shame.

He put his hand in my hair. Gently at first, then harder. He started pushing his hips upward, fucking my mouth with short thrusts, never pushing all the way in case he hurt me.

“No one’s ever done this to me like this,” he said softly, his voice broken.

I stopped to look at him, his shiny head still resting against my lips.

“Never?”

“With women, yes, but not...” He made a vague gesture with his free hand. “Not like this. Not like this.”

“Blanca didn’t suck you properly, did she?”

“Blanca would suck me for two minutes and that was it. And with her teeth.”

I laughed with his cock in my hand and took him back to the hilt. Now without caution. I sucked him like a hungry man, eager, letting him shove deep down my throat every time he thrust. I dug my nails into his thigh. He grabbed my hair. And there we stayed for a long while, him panting above, me swallowing below, his cock sliding between my lips faster and faster.

I came before he did, right there in the water, one hand occupied. I let out a muffled moan around his cock and felt my own load dissolve in the warm water between my legs. It wasn’t much: it was the second time in an hour. What mattered was what would come after.

When I felt him getting close to the edge, I pulled him out of my mouth, grabbed him hard by the base, and started jerking him fast while looking him in the eyes. I wanted to see his face. I wanted to see it clearly.

“Come,” I told him. “On me. Anywhere you want.”

Víctor threw his head back, clenched his teeth, and the sound that came out of his throat was something between a growl and total surrender. The first spurt splattered my cheek and lip, thick and hot. The second landed on my tongue, which I had stuck out. The rest I poured over his abdomen while I kept working him, squeezing out the last drop. He came like he hadn’t in months. His back arched and his chest trembling.

I ran my tongue over my lips and swallowed what had fallen into my mouth. Then I bent down and licked his abdomen clean, gathering his cum with my tongue and swallowing it while I looked at him.

He stayed still for a long minute, his chest rising and falling slowly.

“That,” he said at last, “was what I was looking for.”

***

Later, stretched out on the grass, I took the lead again. Not with words. I knelt over him, my ass pressed back against his cock, hard again, and looked down at him until he nodded with his chin.

I got up for a moment to fetch the lube and a towel from the room. When I came back, Víctor was exactly as I’d left him: arms behind his head, cock standing against his navel, staring up at the sky with the expression of someone who can’t quite believe where he is.

I knelt between his legs and squeezed a good stream of lubricant over his cock. I worked it down with my hand from top to bottom, stroking him slowly to make it properly soaked. Then I put two fingers in my ass and opened myself up, looking him in the face as I slid one in and then the other. I saw his jaw muscles tense at the sight of me fingering myself in front of him.

“Fuck, Marcos.”

“Watch carefully,” I told him. “Because in a minute this is going to be filled by you.”

I climbed on top of him. I grabbed his cock with one hand, placed it at my hole, and sat down on him slowly, the other hand braced on his chest so I wouldn’t lose my balance. The head opened me up and I felt the stretch, the pressure of that thick crown forcing its way in. I held my breath and lowered myself another inch. The head gave way and slid all the way inside me.

“Wait,” I said, eyes closed.

He waited. I stayed still, feeling his cock in there, thick, throbbing.

I kept lowering myself. The process was deliberate and unhurried: a few inches, stop, breathe, lower again. I felt him slide all the way in, felt my body yield and accept the full length. When I reached the end and had all of him inside me, my ass pressed tight against his pubic bone, I stayed still for a moment with my forehead resting on his shoulder. His cock reached a place inside me that almost no one had ever touched.

“Good?” Víctor asked, his voice altered.

“Good,” I answered. “All the way in.”

“You’re squeezing me like a fist.”

“Hold on.”

I started moving. Slowly at first, rising until only the head was inside and lowering again to the hilt. Searching for the rhythm and finding it. His hands on my hips pressed without quite taking over. He looked up at me with an expression I hadn’t seen on him before: something between amazement and total concentration, mouth open, eyes fixed on the point where his cock disappeared inside me.

“Look at you,” he murmured. “How you take it.”

“Talk,” I said. “Tell me things.”

“I’ve never fucked an ass this tight. Fuck. You’re hot inside.”

“More.”

“You’re sucking my cock with your ass, bastard. Up and down. Like that. Like that.”

I sped up. I started bouncing on him with my legs spread, letting him see how his cock came in and out shining with lube. My cock slapped against his abdomen with every drop, leaving a wet trail on his skin. I grabbed my own and started jerking it to the same rhythm, putting on a show.

Víctor didn’t stay with his arms crossed for long. He grabbed me by the hips with both hands, planted his feet in the grass, and started pushing upward, fucking me hard from below. His cock came in all the way with each thrust, knocking against a deep spot that made me let out a long moan every time he hit it.

“There, there, don’t stop there.”

“Here?” he insisted, thrusting harder.

“There. Fuck. There.”

The muscles in his abdomen tightened with every movement, his breathing getting shorter, more broken. In one motion he sat up, grabbed me with both hands, and pulled me flat onto the towel, never pulling out. He got on top of me, opened my legs until my ankles were on his shoulders, and started fucking me with hard, dry thrusts, each one all the way from the bottom.

“That’s how you learn fast,” I told him, voice chopped up.

“Shut up and take it.”

He drove into me without stopping. His cock went in and out with a wet, filthy sound each time, his balls slapping my ass, sweat shining on his chest. He put two fingers in my mouth and I sucked them without taking my eyes off him.

When I felt he was getting close to the edge, tensing over me with his jaw clenched, I said:

“Inside. Come inside.”

“You sure?”

“Inside, fuck.”

He held on for two more thrusts and came with a long, rough groan, buried to the hilt, shaking over me. I felt his cock jerk inside me, shot after shot, filling me. He stayed still above me with his forehead pressed to mine, breathing hard, his cock still hard and throbbing inside my ass.

I finished him with my hand. It only took four pulls because I’d been on the edge for half an hour. I came over my own stomach, in two thick bursts that reached my neck. Víctor caught them with a finger, brought them to my mouth, and watched me lick them off with narrowed eyes.

“You’re filthy, Marcos.”

“And you learn fast.”

When he finally pulled his cock out of my ass, I felt the hot stream of his cum leaking out. We stayed like that, sticky and breathing, while the sun went down over the garden.

We finished the way we’d begun: looking at each other, with the sun already low and the garden in shadow.

***

Afterward, lying on the grass with our breathing back to normal, Víctor told me something he’d been keeping to himself for a long time. One night years ago with some friends in an apartment that belonged to none of the people there. He didn’t give concrete details, but the story had all the ingredients: him looking at what he shouldn’t have been looking at, feeling guilty afterward, finding any excuse not to give a name to what he felt.

“I’ve spent a long time convincing myself it was something else,” he said. “That it was the alcohol. That things were bad with Blanca. That any man feels like that once in a while and it means nothing.”

“And now?”

“Now I don’t know if those excuses were as solid as I thought.”

I looked at him sideways. He had his arm over his forehead and the relaxed face of someone who’s just let out something he’d been carrying for far too long.

“You don’t have to decide anything this week,” I told him. “Not about Blanca, not about what you are or aren’t. This week is just this week.”

He moved his arm to look at me.

“And Diego?”

“He’s coming tomorrow,” I answered. “If you still want him to.”

He thought about it for a few seconds.

“Let him come,” he said.

I laughed. He did too. Then he put his hand on the back of my neck and pulled me toward his mouth, and that kiss was answer enough for everything neither of us had yet said out loud.

That was going to be the best week of summer.