My Uncle Chris - Part 2

[Commission Piece]

Everyone in this story is 18+

I awoke gently, a strange feeling of contentment washing over me. The hotel room was still dim, the blinds blocking most of the morning light, though thin slivers streamed through the cracks.

Chris and I were still tangled together, but at some point during the night, we had shifted. I was now the big spoon, my arms wrapped securely around him. The sensation of holding him—this strong, older man—was intoxicating.

Then, panic set in. As I noticed my usual and trusted morning wood was poking through the fly of my boxers, perfectly nestled between Uncle Chris’s cheeks. The realization made my heart race, a mix of both shame and exhilaration.

I knew I should’ve respected Chris’s wish for nothing to happen between us, but the feeling of my erection pressed against him was too exhilarating. My thoughts betrayed me, running wild. I’d always imagined Chris taking me, making me his, but now I couldn’t stop picturing the reverse. Me, his 18-year-old nephew, claiming him.

It was wrong—so wrong. He wasn’t related to me by blood, but he was still married to my aunt. I should’ve stopped imagining these things. But fuck, he was just too damn hot.

All it would take was one little nudge, one tiny movement, and I’d be closer to his hole. The temptation was unbearable. I wanted it so badly, but I couldn’t do it—not against him.

Just as I was wrestling with my thoughts, Chris stirred. His hips shifted slightly, pressing back against me instead of pulling away. My breath caught, and everything froze.

“Uh, Grayson…” His voice was husky from sleep, but there was a cautious edge to it. “Is that what I think it is?”

“I, uh… yeah, sorry!” I said meekly, my face flushing with embarrassment.

After Chris froze for a moment, he quickly sat up and got out of bed. As he did, my erection was fully exposed, standing proud and impossible to ignore.

“Grayson, we can’t…” he started, his voice hesitant. But then he stopped mid-sentence, his jaw practically hitting the floor.

“Holy fuck!” he blurted out, his eyes wide. “You’re… huge. I mean, I knew you were hung when I saw you at the urinals yesterday, but this? How does an 18-year-old kid end up this well-endowed?” He seemed completely incredulous.

I couldn’t help but grin, the reaction giving me a surge of confidence. Lazily, I wrapped a hand around it, my fingers unable to fully encircle its girth. With a playful smirk, I wiggled it.

“Do you think it’s big?” I teased, my voice light but suggestive. My confidence growing.

Chris let out a breathless laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. “Is Canada a country?” he joked, though his eyes stayed locked on me, unable to look away.

It felt as if the room itself was holding its breath, brimming with tension., and I decided to push a little further. “Do you want to touch it?” I asked softly, my grin widening.

His expression faltered, conflicted. “I… I can’t, Grayson. You know this. You’re my nephew, and… and I’m straight. We can’t. This is—”

“You’re hard too, Uncle,” I chuckled, pointing at the noticeable bulge in his boxers—substantial in it’s own right, though not quite as big as mine.

Chris’s face flushed, and he grabbed the sheet to cover himself.

“Come on, let’s just take care of this. We’re both guys here—it’s nothing to be ashamed of. Just… relieving some pressure, you know?”

Chris let out a shaky breath, running a hand through his hair as his eyes darted around the room, refusing to meet mine. “Grayson, this… we can’t,” he started, his voice low and conflicted.

“Come on, Chris,” I said softly, leaning back against the headboard, my erection still standing proudly. “It’s nothing weird. No big deal, right?”

He finally looked at me, his eyes lingering on my cock before quickly shifting away again, his jaw tight. “It’s not… it’s not that simple,” he muttered, his tone strained. “You’re my nephew, and—and I’m not really even…”

“Not even what?” I interrupted, smirking. “Not even into guys? Does it matter? I can see how hard you are right now, Chris.” My eyes dropped pointedly to the thin sheet, where his cock still strained against the fabric, leaving nothing to the imagination.

He flushed, tugging the sheet higher over his lap. “That doesn’t mean anything. It’s just… it’s just morning wood. Happens to all guys.”

“My point, exactly,” I said, my grin widening as I seductively continued to stroke myself. “Come on, Chris. No touching. Just us doing our thing. Nothing gay about it.”

He hesitated, his hand gripping the sheet tightly. “Grayson, this is wrong,” he said, but his voice lacked conviction. His eyes flicked to my cock again, betraying his thoughts.

I leaned forward slightly, dropping my voice to a low breathy voice. “Chris, it’s okay. You don’t have to fight this so hard. It’s just us. No one has to know.”

His shoulders slumped slightly as he exhaled, his internal struggle written all over his face. “Just… just no touching,” he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper. “And don’t call me Uncle.”

I grinned, laying back on the bed. “You got it. Un… I mean, Chris.”

Reaching for my phone, I pulled up some straight porn, letting the sounds of moans and grunts fill the room. I pressed play and set the phone between us, though I knew it was just a distraction. My hand played with my cock, stroking it slowly as I kept stealing glances at Chris.

He shifted beside me, his movements slow and uncertain, as though still wrestling with himself. Then, his hand slipped beneath the waistband of his boxers, the fabric dipping low enough to expose the base of his cock. My breath caught as more of him was revealed—neatly trimmed at the base, his shaft thick and substantial, veins running along its length in faint ridges.

I swallowed hard as his cockhead came into view, smooth and rounded, the faintest sheen catching the dim light of the room. Like me, he was cut, the exposed head flaring slightly before tapering into his thick shaft. My eyes drifted lower, catching a glimpse of his balls, round and full, sitting snug against his body.

Chris let out a shaky breath, his hand wrapping around himself as he began to stroke, careful at first. Each movement was slow, as if testing the waters, his grip tightening just enough to make his knuckles flex.

The sight was mesmerizing—intimate and raw in a way I’d only ever imagined. All the anticipation made my heart pound as I watched his confidence grow, his strokes becoming steadier, his breathing heavier. He was beautiful, every inch of him, and the fact that I was seeing this, that I was here, made my body buzz with heat.

“See? Nothing weird,” I said softly, glancing over at him. He didn’t respond, his eyes fixed on me rather than the screen.

I noticed the way his strokes faltered when he thought I wasn’t looking, his gaze lingering on my cock, unable to tear away. My grin widened as I shifted closer, letting our shoulders brush.

“You’re not even watching,” I teased, my voice low and playful. “You’re just looking at me.”

“Fuck, Grayson,” he muttered, his voice thick with awe. “It’s just so… huge. It must be at least eight inches?”

I smirked, his amazement making me bolder by the second. “Actually, it’s 8.5,” I said with a grin, feeling a twitch of excitement at the attention.

“That’s insane,” he said, shaking his head, his hand slowing as he stared.

“Hey, you’re not bad yourself,” I said, letting my eyes drop to his length.

He chuckled softly, a mix of pride and disbelief in his tone. “I’ve never really felt like it was small at seven inches, but yours… yours is a beast.”

“I can see you want to touch it. Go ahead. Just… have a feel.”

His hand trembled as he pulled it free from his boxers, hovering in the air between us. “We shouldn’t…” he muttered, but the words lacked conviction.

“You want to,” I said simply, holding his gaze. “It’s okay. I want you to.”

His resolve finally broke. His hand reached out, his fingers brushing against my shaft tentatively. The contact sent a jolt through me, and I let out a soft moan. Encouraged, his hand wrapped around me fully, his grip firm but unsure.

“Fuck, Chris,” I breathed, my hips twitching as his strokes grew bolder.

He didn’t reply, his focus entirely on the task. Chris gasped sharply, his body tensing under my touch. His abs twitched, the muscles contracting as if his entire body were responding to the sudden, forbidden contact.

Our movements fell into sync, our hands working each other with increasing urgency. The tension in the room was thick, every brush of his fingers sending waves of pleasure through me.

“Grayson…” he muttered, his voice thick with a mix of guilt and desire.

“It’s okay,” I whispered, leaning in closer, my forehead almost touching his as we worked each other to the edge.

I turned onto my side, closing the distance between us until my chest pressed against his arm. My cock rested against his abs, the swollen head brushing his warm skin and leaving a slick mark. The sensation was unreal, the nearness of our bodies almost unbearable, each breath I took heavy with anticipation of what’s to come.

“Cum with me, Uncle,” I murmured softly, my voice a mix of teasing confidence and quiet yearning. “Let go with me. Together. It’s okay.”

“Grayson, I shouldn’t.” He gasped, but his body told a different story.

His chest rose and fell in uneven waves, his breath coming faster as his hand gripped his cock more tightly. I could feel his struggle in the tension of his body, every muscle taut as he tried to resist. But when his eyes met mine, I watched the last barrier break.

He let out a strained gasp, his body convulsing slightly as he gave in. His cock throbbed against his hand, spilling thick, hot streaks of cum across his abs. The sight of it, of him letting go so completely, was too much for me.

A groan escaped my lips as my own orgasm surged through me, my cock twitching as my own cum joined his, streaking his skin in messy ribbons. My body jerked with the force of it, and I instinctively pressed closer to him, feeling the heat of his skin against mine, the shared intimacy of our actions binding us in a way I couldn’t yet understand.

For a long moment, the room was silent, filled only with the sound of our labored breathing. The scent of sex lingered, warm and heady, wrapping around us like a blanket. I turned my head to look at him—his face flushed, lips slightly parted, his eyes a swirl of emotions: regret, longing, and something deeper, unspoken.

Chris let out a deep breath, running a hand through his hair as his gaze met mine. His expression was torn. “Grayson, that was… incredible,” he said quietly, his voice raw and sincere. “But it can never happen again. You understand that?”

I nodded, keeping my face neutral even as my heart sank. “Just a one-time thing,” I said softly, though the words felt like a lie even as I spoke them.

Chris glanced at his Rolex, his jaw tightening. “We should get ready,” he said, shifting the conversation back to safer ground. “I’ve got business to take care of in town, and you’ve got your exploring to do. I thought you wanted to check out the hockey team?”

I forced a smile and nodded. “Yeah, I do.”

Without another word, I headed to the bathroom for a shower. I lingered under the warm spray, half-hoping Chris might join me despite everything. But when I stepped out and glanced toward the door, it was still firmly shut.

---

I took the elevator downstairs, feeling the cooler air of the lobby hit my skin as I approached the front desk. The receptionist’s face lit up as I approached.

“Good morning, sir. Again, we’re so sorry for the inconvenience yesterday,” she said brightly. “We’ve prepared a second room for you. Should I have the bellboy fetch your luggage while you’re out?”

I hesitated for a moment, her words catching me off guard. A second room? I thought about it, weighing my options. My lips curled into a smirk as an idea formed.

“Nah,” I said casually, slipping my hands into my pockets. “We decided it’s not needed. It’s more convenient this way, after all. It’s just one more night, no hassle.”

The receptionist nodded, smiling politely. “Of course, sir. No problem. Please accept this complimentary breakfast coupon as an apology.”

I took the coupon with a nod and a quick thanks, stepping outside into the crisp morning air. My thoughts lingered on Chris, on the night we’d just shared.

Sorry, Uncle Chris, I thought, a sly grin spreading across my face. But this defintely needs to happen again.