Alice, My Uncle, & Me Ch. 02

This is the account of the second of five nights that studly 18 year old Mikey spends together with Mike, the 24-year old uncle he idolizes, and Mike's fascinating and beautiful 22-year old fiancé Alice.

The next morning I awoke with a boner. I was in a puddle of sun on the floor beside Alice's bed. Someone had thrown a comforter over me, and I had had a deep and restful night.

Lying there, I could have had no idea how I would wind up this day, lying between Alice and my young uncle, my face covered with her quim and his cum, with his seed deep within my body, and with her caressing my leg with her face and he giving me the most exquisite jacking any man ever had received.

I threw the comforter aside, rose from the carpet and stumbled, naked, to the bathroom to piss. Just when I was shaking off, my uncle opened the door and reached over with a hand on either cheek, pulled my face to his and gave me a big, fat kiss on the lips. With a smile he said, "She likes you, Mikey. Reaching down with his right hand he gave my cock a friendly squeeze. "Actually, I think she loves you!"

I pulled on a tee shirt and my shorts and walked into the sunny kitchen. Alice and Mike had been up more than an hour. Alice looked up -- God! was she beautiful! What a smile! What a face! What a body! -- and said in her cheeriest manner, "Good morning, Sunshine!" And she took a couple of steps my way and drawing close, surprised me by giving me a pleasant buss right on the cheek. It was somewhat sisterly, but it pleased the shit right out of me! And being -- if just for a moment -- that close, her scent drove me wild. It was fresh, and subtle rather than blatant, but for me it was a very powerful stimulant, and it caused my dick to chub up, uselessly of course, and potentially embarrassingly.

They were ready for a quick morning run, while it was still cool and refreshing. I pulled on my shoes and in just a few minutes we were out the door. There was an agreeable path running through the valley meadow that Alice's patio overlooked, down by a hillside spotted with California oaks, and back up to the crest of the hill above Allie's place. At a mild pace it was a 40-minute jog. I think by design Mike lagged just a little behind, giving Alice and me an opportunity to talk. She asked me about my college plans, and I said that I had my eye on Stanford, "just like Mike," and that in fact during the state baseball championship a couple of months ago I was scouted by Stanford's eastern recruiting team. It was a possibility. Alice went, "But what do you want out of college, Mikey?" and I didn't hesitate. I pretty much gave her chapter and verse from a book I'd just finished, The Aims of Education, though I didn't expressly cite it. With a smile, she abashed me inadvertently when she went, "So I see you've been reading Alfred North Whitehead." She knew his work well, including The Aims. She said that indeed Stanford was exactly the sort of place where I could have an experience that Whitehead would have endorsed. She introduced some of the main notions in process philosophy, but it was clear I didn't know anything about it.

But we did move on to Necessity, Utility, Honor, and Fidelity. I knew nothing of the world; I had had almost no experience of it. You couldn't have found a more innocent character within a country mile. But that didn't stop me from dilating upon these large notions with the callow and idealistic enthusiasm of the high school senior. Fortunately we talked on a Wednesday, because Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays I was a Utilitarian; the other days a firm Positivist. Alice was (I now realize) very indulgent of me, but also she seemed to listen to what I had to say.

Back at Alice's Mike and I jumped in the truck, and Alice followed in her Jeep as we headed to the new house that they would be moving into, just a little closer to Stanford's campus. Mike's company arranged the financing for its key employees; otherwise it would have been impossible for even well-paid staffers like Mike to buy homes in that absurdly fevered market.

Mike and I made fairly quick work of unloading the truck, Alice directing us where to take things. The last thing to come out was a large, beautiful antique Tabriz carpet that my granddad had bought in Iran a half century ago while he was there on business. Mike was carrying the front end of the roll, and I was carrying the back. Alice said, "Wow, from the rear, if it weren't for your yellow floppy hair, Mikey, I wouldn't be able to tell you from your uncle." There's almost nothing in the world that she could have said that would have pleased me more. I knew I had the same general athletic frame as Mike, the same broad shoulders, and I knew could imitate Mike's deliberate masculine swagger if I wanted (and I often did while on stage playing with my band, and sauntering around the ballfield). But I had no idea that I might also have something of the feline grace that was so natural to him, and that I always associated with him. I fairly swelled with pride.

After we had set the carpet down and unrolled it where Allie specified - it was fucking gorgeous! - she said, "C'mere Mike, stand right here. And Mikey, you stand right behind him, back to back. And so we did, heel to heel, calf to calf, butt to butt, and shoulder to shoulder, while Alice looked on judgmentally. "Okay," she said, "it's clear that Mikey has you by an inch in height. And standing in front of me and holding out her arms as if to guide her vision, "and it looks as if maybe his shoulders are just a little bit broader, too. Now put your hands together." I turned toward Mike and held up my right hand, palm outward, and he turned around and lined up his palm to palm with mine. They were identical. Alice goes "Okay, pull off your shirts."

I looked at Mike and said softly, "Uh, I don't think..."

He just looked at me and said quietly, "Just do it."

Now all the advantage lay to Mike. I knew I was a well-built big kid, possessed of the same genes that Mike had. But Mike's arms and forearms made mine look kind of, well, undeveloped, in comparison, and his chest was really big compared to mine, and his big thighs and highly developed calves were far more impressive than mine. With my schoolwork, three sports, my music and my band, dating and everything else, I didn't really have time to be a serious gym rat. I worked out regularly as part of my sports training, but it wasn't a six-day-a-week thing. I did start every day with a couple of hundred crunches, though, and my abs were just as defined as Mike's. (Actually, I was still growing and developing and putting on muscle mass, and eventually I too would have the development that Mike did. But not now, not at barely 18).

Nor did I have the manly spread of body hair that Mike exhibited so luxuriously on his chest and on his abs and belly. While I had just as much sun-bleached golden hair on my arms and legs as he did, and a lot of thick dark blond hair on my lower belly, and a well-defined accumulation both above and below my navel, on my chest I had only the dense fine golden vellous hair that prefigures the development of mature "terminal" hair that I would eventually exhibit.

The reason I didn't want to take off my tee shirt was that standing back to back with my uncle, butt to butt, hairy calf to hairy calf, I had helplessly sprung a boner that was quite noticeably tenting out my little shorts. It had been somewhat concealed by the tee shirt, but now without it, it was all too evident, and this remarkable scrutiny of my body by Alice wasn't helping any.

"What's that, Mikey?" she mischievously asked. "You trying to get the message across that you're just as big a man as your uncle? Fat chance of that. Cocks the size of your uncle's don't show up every day, and I think I know."

"Don't be so sure about Mikey," Mike mildly observed.

In a capricious mood, and curious too, Alice just said, "Well, let's see about that," and she came over to me and, totally amazing me, just pulled my little shorts down to the floor, and my cock sprang free. It had been turgid, but now it grew absolutely steely in no time.

Alice said, "Hey, that looks pretty damn familiar. Mike, come over here." She pulled down Mike's shorts, and of course by now he too was totally rigid and erect. She said "Stand right here," arranging us face to face, and with her hands on Mike's shoulders, she manoeuvred him a little bit this way and that until we were lined up precisely opposite one another and less than ten inches apart. Using her little right hand, and a fair amount of pressure, she forced Mike's cock down to a position 90 degrees from his belly; and with her left hand, she did the same to me. Her touch was abso-fucking-lutely electric to me. "Mike move in another inch or so," she commanded. With that little bit more adjustment, his cock and mine were precisely side by side, touching their entire lengths, his cockhead nestled in my pubic hair and firmly against my groin, and, reciprocally, my cockhead was buried in his public hair and firmly against his skin. It was plain that the two cocks were as alike as two peas in a pod.

But though it was obvious that we had the exact same length, and shape too, Alice declared that she wasn't entirely certain about the girth. With a smile she said, "We'll just see. Come over here" indicating the old Persian carpet "and lay down." Grabbing my left hand in her right and Mike's right in her left, she tugged us over to the carpet and she knelt, rather recalling a geisha's posture, and pointed to a place just to her left for Mike, and to her right for me. We wound up exactly parallel and only eighteen inches apart, with Allie kneeling right between Mike's right knee and my left one. She said, "Okay, guys, lace your fingers together behind your heads," and she seized Mike's cock in her left hand and mine in her right, adjusting her grip so that her hands were both precisely symmetrically placed on our cocks, and she closed her eyes, and moved them around, testing and feeling the twin dicks.

For Mike it may well have been business as usual, but for me it was incredibly unbearable! The very situation I found myself in, as absurd as it was, had already wound me up like an e-string on a too-sharp violin; I had felt almost close to some breaking point I did not understand. Then Alice's touch drove me almost crazy. I had felt that I was in grave danger of exploding in response to her very first touch when she was testing the gauge and diameter of my cock. However, I somehow overmastered the urgency I felt, and managed to will some measure of control into my almost bursting phallus. And Alice began to jack us slowly, ever so slowly. It was in-fucking-credible, but amazingly, I felt I was gaining some measure of control over my cock and my will. I looked over to Mike, and he was gazing at me. He extended his right arm to me, and in response I reached out to him, and grasped his hairy forearm it with my left hand, and he took hold of my own forearm with his right hand.

Alice, well-experienced along this line, wasn't merely going through the motions like a twenty-dollar whore. She was putting everything she had into it, working us now with wicked gentleness, now with great firmness, but always in synchrony.

Crazily, the main theme of "Mondo Cane" filtered into some corner of my consciousness, no matter how I tried to suppress it, but in any case, eventually I knew I was totally losing control - and I'm sure Allie knew it too - and she eased up momentarily. And then, slowly she resumed her magic. But the respite had not been enough, and I erupted like a little Vesuvius, jetting cum into the air, and it landed in part on her arm, in part on my belly, and a lot of it wound up on the beautiful Tabriz. My release proved to be the irresistible trigger for Mike, too, and he, too, spewed his load on Alice, his hairy chest, and the rug. I lay there, truly, profoundly mentally exhausted, with Allie's little hand on my thigh.

Satisfied, Alice smiled like an angel down at me, and said, "Okay, I stand corrected. Mikey, your cock is, in my expert judgment, just as big and just as fat and just as hard as Mike's. And," kissing my still sloppy cockhead, "almost as dear to me!" I couldn't have been more amazed than if Princess Di had materialized in the room and kissed my spunky cock.

She glanced over to Mike, who gave her a certain look, but he didn't say a word. "God, Honey, I'd LOVE to, but we just don't have the time. Already I'll be late for the caterer."

Though my world was still kind of spinning around me, we cleaned up as well as we could - actually it amounted to wiping up the cum with our tee-shirts (that's all we had in the new house); put on our shorts and now funky shirts and locked up the new place. While Alice had her errands, Mike and I had our own business to conduct. Mike kissed Allie deeply and, and before she jumped into her jeep, she gave me a little peck on the cheek too.

Our first stop was at Mike's barbershop, since the wedding was now in only three days, and between now and then there were the rehearsal dinner and other stuff. It was close to 2 pm, when we walked in and we were the only patrons. We sat in two chairs, side by side, so that we could easily see each other in the mirrors that covered the side walls of the shop. Mike said we wanted shaves and haircuts. Getting shaved in the barbershop can be a senuous experience, with the hot towels, the hot lather, and the cool, clean feel of the straight razor, stropped and restropped repeatedly during the process of cleaning off the goatees that Mike and I had grown during our trip across America (as detailed in the series Cross-Country with My Uncle).

As the golden chin whiskers disappeared, our familiar strong jawlines reemerged, and our square chins reappeared. The mirrors showed Mike's image and mine, now seemingly more similar than I had ever recalled before. Satisfied with the results, Mike then looked around and pointed to a picture of a model with a hairstyle rather shorter than he had worn for years. He said to the barber, "Like that." He said to me, "I haven't cleared this with Alice, and it's going to be a pretty big surprise to her. What the hell!" The barber's clippers buzzed and Mike's medium-length, moderately curly medium blond locks began to accumulate on the floor around the chair.

At the spur of the moment I said to my barber, "Gimme that too." I was almost surprised when the words tumbled out of my mouth, because I had worn the same rather floppy hairstyle for several years, but I was getting sick of it, and anyway who needed all that hair working on a dude ranch anyway? (That would be my summer job to begin a few days after the wedding.) And my rather paler yellow hair began to fall to the floor also.

In only a few minutes the barbers' work was done. Mike's handsome curls had disappeared, as had my trademark light blond locks. The changes were pretty dramatic, but what we had not expected was that suddenly, with the shaves, and now the haircuts, we looked quite eerily alike. Not like identical twins of course, but like those kinds of brothers who look like they were produced with the same genetic cookie cutter. We both realized it at the same time. As for me, I was stunned, and the new likeness we shared somehow magnified my soul. I couldn't attribute that kind of feeling to Mike, but he did seem damn pleased, displaying a great big grin, and clapping me heartily on the back, saying "I can't wait until Allie - and our moms! - see us. They won't be able to believe it!"

We had another stop, the tailor's shop where we were fitted for our tuxes. With our athletic builds, a little bit out of the ordinary run of guys, there was a certain amount of adjustment necessary, especially for Mike with his still bigger chest and arms and thighs. But the thing about tuxes is that they are uniforms that are designed to minimize, as much as possible, the differences between guys' wildly varying physiques. When the tailors were finished and we stood side by side looking into the mirror, we again stunned by the new congruence between us. The fact that Mike had a bigger chest and arms and legs was minimized and (though I was an inch taller than he was) it was unbelievable at the changes the last two hours had wrought - the degree to which our looks had converged. Once again, my heart sang; and Mike seemed pleased. The tailors packaged up the monkey suits, and we were on our way, and soon back to Alice's house.

Getting home, we quickly showered and put on the tuxes, and waited for Alice's arrival, which wasn't long in coming.

"I'm ho-ome," she called out," and Mike walked into the living room. "Mike," she cried, brightening, "you look wonderful! You've always been the handsomest brute I've ever known, but you've never looked more beautiful than you do at this moment. I like the new haircut, good choice." And flinging her arms around Mike she reached up and kissed his face, the first time she'd seen him smooth since before he flew to Pennsylvania.

Mike gave a signal with his finger, and I walked in. Allie's eyes almost popped, her jaw literally dropped, for I was Mike's Doppelganger. "Oh, my god," she goes. "I can't believe it. It's like I have two of you, Mike. This is weird. It's wonderful," she added, "but weird." And she drew me into her embrace with Mike and kissed my face too. I felt like ten feet tall. I especially liked that she said "I have two of you," loving the notion that she thought she possessed me.

Mike and I quickly shifted into our tee shirts and shorts again, and the three of us working together in the kitchen put on some green beans and rice and assembled a salad to go with the skinless roasted chicken Allie had picked up, and soon back on the patio we were dining, as dusk gathered.

Despite all the remaining things that had to be done, between before the wedding, the out of town guests would soon be gathering, etc., our dinner was relaxed, and we shared general conversation.

I volunteered to clean up the dishes and as I was finishing, Mike came into the kitchen and spoke quietly to me.

"Mikey," he said. "Allie and I have talked, and here are the ground rules for tonight. You are invited into our bed, but you are not to speak unless absolutely necessary, and as our guest we will take care of you, but you are should consider very carefully before you touch either of us. If you are wise, you will play your hand very conservatively. Generally, you'll just be following my instructions, but for god's sake, see if you can read signals and gestures and impute intentions. I don't want to have spell anything out for you. Lest all this sounded too harsh and calculated, he leaned over to me and kissed my ear and repeated quietly, "We'll take care of you."

"We've decided to use the computer-controlled lighting again, it just seems to simplify what a situation that is intrinsically just a little bit awkward. But you get to pick the music tonight."

He led me to a laptop that was part of the house's local area network, and showed me the music directory. There must have been more than a thousand tunes there. After a few minutes of confusion, I just opened the list called "FuckMix 9," one of two dozen such files they had already put together. It had several favorite tunes of mine, and so I selected that. Mike said, "Fine," and pushed a few keys. He told me to go into the already darkened bedroom and take off my clothes and wait on the bed.

I threw off my clothes and crawled onto the big kingsized bed, and never I think in my life with so much anticipation and excitement. My cock was of course rockhard. The soft Egyptian cotton sheet caressed my body, but I was in such a heightened state of sensitivity that instead of soothing me, it was as if I felt every thread of the 450-count weave separately and individually as I moved ever so slightly over the expanse, for the time being alone. Absurd, I know.