Editor's note: this story contains erotic incest scenes between two adult men.
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Whenever mom and dad decided to head up the mountains to gamble in Reno, they usually left my sister with the neighbors and their daughters, and drove me up to my Uncle Jerry's place to stay. It was about 20 miles up the hill from home and on their way, so it was convenient, but I also liked staying with him. Uncle Jerry was my uncle from my mom's side of the family, someone I had grown up with and who always treated me like I was special.
Uncle Jerry was a little younger than my parents. Sure, he was an adult, but he was still enough of a kid to make me feel like I fit in with him, which helped to foster the closeness I felt with him; a near-perfect mix between paternal figure and pal.
It was hard not to like Uncle Jerry. He was tall and stout, with a mop of curly blond hair and the most infectious laugh. He was quick with the jokes, and generous with horseplay and hugs, even as I grew into my teens. His hands and arms were huge, but always gentle. He rode a motorcycle whenever the weather was good and, despite my mom's protests, eventually taught me how to ride.
I really liked staying at my Uncle Jerry's place, a nice little one-bedroom apartment. Throughout the years it was always a "man's place", without frilly curtains or bedspreads, or tablecloths and lace doilies. He'd order pizza to be delivered, and we'd play some silly board games or watch old movies for what seemed like all night. When I was younger, when it was time for bed, Uncle Jerry always let me sleep in his bed while he would take the couch for the night. As I got older the order switched and I camped out on the couch.
Later, even though I was in my late teens, I'd go over to his place and visit with him because I really liked his company. And being a teenager, like nearly every teenager out there, there would be conflicts with my parents that required stomping out of the house in anger. I could talk to him about anything; cars, girls, restrictive parents... whatever. I would drive over to my Uncle Jerry's and he'd listen and offer advice and usually let me crash there.
One late night I needed a place to crash since I was really too beat to make the drive home safely. It was too cold to just nap in my car and although it was close to midnight I was sure that even if I ended up waking Uncle Jerry he'd be cool with it. I parked my car and trudged up the steps to his apartment and knocked on the door.
It was a few moments before Uncle Jerry got to the door. He cautiously opened it a crack and peered, then opened it fully once he recognized it was me. He had on a pair of hastily thrown-on jeans and seemed surprised to see me and looked as though I had woke him, but he still managed to give me his familiar smile.
"What's up, Digger?" he asked, still calling me by my boyhood nickname long after everyone else forgot it.
"Hey, Uncle," I said. "Sorry for dropping by on you like this, but I'm just wiped out and need someplace to crash for the night. I don't wanna drive home when I'm this pooped and there's a chance of ice and snow."
"Smart thinking," he replied, followed with a yawn. "'Cept Cary's on the couch for much the same reason."
"Oh. Well, I can just crash on the floor, if you don't mind," I said.
"Floor's gonna be as cold as outside," he said. "Now come in here 'cuz I'm freezing standing here with the door open."
I stepped inside as Uncle Jerry closed the door behind me. I could hear his long-time friend, Cary, snoring loudly on the couch.
"Even if I let you sleep on the floor you wouldn't get much sleep," Uncle Jerry whispered. "You can bunk with me if you don't mind sleeping with an old guy."