I leapt up immediately, hoping that my sweat shorts bagged my boner effectively. Dad saw me too and motioned that I should come over. It’s macho ferocity both chilled my blood and burned my groin. I wondered what they were talking about as they grinned at each other like teenage boys.įinally Nick picked me out of the crowd with his eyes and gave me this,“don’t make me come over there and fuck you, boy!”stare. They were very different men by profession but still very much brothers. Dad lit up one of his stogies and Uncle Nick fired up the big bowl of his briar pipe as they reminisced over the hood of my uncle’s pick-up. They were literally bursting at the seams! As dad and Nick talked my uncle stood at an angle which gave me a great view of his thick black sack fur which peeked out one of the legs of his shorts. His pair of shabby cut-offs left nothing to the imagination. I quickly noticed this wasn’t the only bulge my uncle was sporting today. My dad and uncle laughed and hugged, sucker punching each others’ slight pot bellies. I watched as my uncle eased out of the cab in his favorite flip-flop sandals – the same ones I happily dumped my juice on last summer. I continued eating but could no longer taste any of my food. And let me tell you he looked as redneck hot as he could get. Goddamn if the big hairy fucker hadn’t made it. “Shit, Nicky how the hell are ya? We didn’t think you were commin!” Then I heard the hearty yell of my Dad over the crowd. Distracted for a second by my plate of fried chicken, I didn’t realize who the late visitor was. A brand spankin’ new Ram 1500 pickup swaggered up the drive like a horny red bull. I was wading through a sea of aunts and bratty cousins trying to get my fair share of the pot- luck picnic pickins when I heard another vehicle pulling up the dirt road. The overlapping conversations of some 50-odd relatives filled the air thickly. The men of the family had set up picnic tables in a grove of oaks adjacent to one of my great uncle’s old tobacco fields.
Plus I was worried that my Dad would find out just what we did that summer. I had started to write him a hundred different times over the year explaining just how I felt but it always came out stupid. I hadn’t seen my uncle or talked to him since. I had spent the previous summer working on his construction crew, lusting after him in secret until finally Nick raped my willing ass and then sucked it dry without mercy. God, how I wanted to see my hot uncle again. But there didn’t seem much hope of seeing him since dad didn’t expect his brother to make it up here from Florida this year. He was the the only thing that could salvage this reunion for me. What was really burning on my mind was dad’s younger brother, my Uncle Nick. Most of my relatives hadn’t seen me since I was fourteen and I kept hearing the same line about how big I’d gotten and how much I looked like my Dad when he played college ball. Dad promised me a good time (with a sly wink in his eye) but so far it was really boring. Written and illustrated by Douglas ĭuring the spring of my first year at college the entire family got together at my Great Uncle’s John’s farm for the regular five year reunion. Or, like today’s story, good old fashioned family fun!
In fact, it doesn’t seem as though anyone knows much about this guy, although there is an archive of some of his best known illustrations (almost all from Handjobs) over at the Gay Art Gallery.ĭouglas’ work is generally evocative of the Americana illustrations of Norman Rockwell or Lee Dubin, featuring ultra masculine men, usually juxtaposed with a younger guy in some form of stereotypical roleplay: coach/athlete, principal/student, expert/apprentice. Handjobs Magazine, to the rescue! As always! This week’s tale comes to us via the feature story of April, 1998 issue of Handjobs, and was written and illustrated by Douglas, about whom I know precious little. But you also don’t want to sacrifice any of the filthy story that gets your penis inflated in the first place! What’s a boy to do? Some days, you just don’t have time for the long, luxurious reads of the Nifty Archive and you need something more direct, and to the point.