My great-uncle passed on last month. He was 91. He was also gay although this seems to have been a closely guarded secret within the family. We youngsters were told that his girl-friend had run off with a G.I. during the Second World War - the Americans were not very popular even then - and Uncle Edward had never gotten over it. He was my grandmother's eldest brother and lived on what was left of his farm ten miles out of town. Towards the end he suffered from Alzheimer's and so couldn't even remember what happened last week but he told me me lots of graphic tales about his youth and showed me books and photos. So I was introduced to Charles Atlas at an early age and given Culture Magazines to read, or rather gloat over. I noticed that the men had huge muscles and tiny dicks. Quite a disappointing contrast. But he also had lots of great photos he'd taken himself of farm-hands and tradesmen and they all had very big dicks indeed. It was a veritable hirsute harvest as Uncle Edward liked hairy men. He told me I could have his entire collection when he died.

So the other day I wandered over there and started putting things into boxes. Not that I'm into hairy men so I didn't want most of the stuff but, out of respect and affection for my uncle, I thought it might be better to 'remove the evidence' so to speak. He also had a lot of videos - some of them quite recent - and of course I wanted to keep a lot of those. Some he'd already shown me including one that could have been filmed on his farm although the studs were obviously from California or somewhere. I remember thinking how uncomfortable it must have been making out amongst the haystacks. On film all that hay may look very photogenic and sexy but it's actually pretty spiky and not the best mattress for a bare butt. However it was one of my favourites and still turned me on although I was only a tender teen when I first saw it.

It began when the sun was just coming over the horizon and our horny hero was grooming one of the horses. He was shirtless and bulging out of blue denim dungarees. The flanks of the horse shone in the sun and were highly reminiscent of a bare butt but all my concentration was focused on the muscles of his burnished arms as he brushed energetically away. His juicy nipples were barely covered by the straps of his dungarees one of which kept falling off his bare shoulder to reveal biceps and pecs to die for. As he worked, rivulets of sweat dribbled down his six-pack and formed a pool in his navel. Just when I thought he was going to slip out of his denims and have a shower in the buff, his buddy rode up and asked for a drink of water. My hero got some from the pump which entailed some more horny shots of his biceps and nifty nipples. The second guy drank his fill, all the time taking in the growing bulge in his friend's crotch. Plenty of close-ups of that too of course. "Looks like your bird's up bright and early to greet me," he said and with no more ado took firm hold of it with his huge cowboy's fist. Cut to two naked guys going at it hammer and tongs in the hay. It was the first time I'd seen a guy's dick going in and out of another guy's ass. I'd seen dogs doing it of course but this hadn't made quite the same impression on me.

Another video started with two guys dropping off their girl-friends and then one driving the other one home. The isolated house was in darkness but there was a full moon. They sat talking for what seemed forever as if they didn't want to be parted. One guy stroked the side of the steering wheel but you knew in your mind's eye that he really wanted to be stroking something else. Finally the other guy bent over and kissed him and started undoing his shirt. Next they were spread-eagled all over the bonnet of the car doing it like crazy. These two I singled out for old time's sake and put them in my back-pack. The images had stayed with me for nearly ten years. Most of the others I piled into a sack and trashed together with the books and magazines. As I was doing so, some photos fell out of a magazine. These intrigued me. The guy in them had the face and structure of a typical fifties hunk but the background was modern. In fact it was my uncle's living room. I recognized his house-plant immediately and there was some workout apparatus he had recently hired or bought, God knows why.

The photos must have been some of the last ones my uncle had taken. And they were good. The guy had a very pleasant face and a super sculptured body. Plus a great dick. I was pleased to see that he wasn't quite as hairy as some of my uncle's other models but to compensate for this he was covered in tattoes and other graffiti. His ass was the only place which had nothing written on it. Perhaps he was saving it for something special. I was just tucking away the photos in my pocket when a truck drove up. No need to tell you who was driving it. Maybe he paid frequent visits to my uncle.

"You must be Joncy," he said. "Sorry to hear about your uncle. He was a great guy. I've come to pick up the rest of my equipment. Unless you'd like to use it yourself," he added eying my slender frame. I didn't reply to this. After all he hadn't seen my meaty dick. I invited him into the house and offered him a beer. He seemed very much at home and helped himself to one from the fridge.

It was a hot day and I was just wearing a singlet and shorts. Not much protection as my dick seemed to swell to three times its size when its interest was aroused. Which was quite often I can tell you. Fortunately, it behaved itself on this solemn occasion. Even so my visitor was quite an appetizing temptation. He was wearing shorts too and a shirt cut off at the sleeves. There was something very sensual about the way the cotton fronds caressed the muscles of his bare shoulders. What's more his shirt was open almost to the waist so I could see some of the writing on his ample chest. And of course I'd already seen his dick.

After a while he got up and started dismantling the exercise bike. I watched and then asked him, "How come my uncle had all this equipment? It could have killed him at his age. Probably did."

"Not with me supervising him," he said. "I came here four or five times a week."

"Hope you're not talking literally." I quipped. "He paid you I hope."

He winced at my pointed remark. "Of course, I was his personal trainer. It's my job."

As if to dispel any doubts he handed me a card, 'Greg Millar, personal trainer and physiotherapist.'

"Why are you being so hostile?" he asked. "I'm a pretty decent guy when you get to know me."

"When you're not doing indecent things with your patients." I said.

There was a long pause and then he said, "You've seen the photos."

"Sure I've seen the photos. Shame on you taking advantage of an old man."

"Actually it was he who took advantage of me. He persuaded me to pose for them. He was very insistent so in the end I gave in. He was such a nice old guy and I wanted to let him have a few kicks before he kicked the bucket so to speak."

He blushed.

"Sorry that probably came out sounding awful. But I like to please people."

"That's alright." I said, suddenly warming to him and his beautiful smile. "I understand."

I loved the way he smiled. I'd first noticed it in the photos and remember thinking somebody with a smile like that can't be taking advantage of my uncle. Unfortunately I'd temporarily forgotten.

"He liked to feel my muscles and touch my dick and pass his hands over my bare butt. The whole experience turned me on. Being desired by another man, even if he was four times my age."

"He really was very persuasive." I said. "A real charmer. I don't blame you."

"Are you gay too?" he asked as an afterthought.

"Yes," I said, glad to be speaking the truth to somebody without feeling ashamed.

"I've dallied with the idea. Just haven't found the right guy," he said his voice suddenly going strangely husky. There was an underlying sexual current between us. The air fairly prickled with it.

He began undoing his shirt.

"Do you mind if I take a shower?" he said.

"Go right ahead. Meanwhile I'll play with the other machine before you dismantle that too."

"Ok," he said. "I'll be right back to make sure you don't bust a gut."

It was one of those machines built for strengthening legs and building up flexibility. The type that open and shut with iron struts. After ten goes I was already exhausted. I don't know how my uncle ever managed. Shortly, Greg came back with a small towel wrapped loosely around his waist.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I could have given you a bigger one than that."

"Force of habit," he said. "It's the one I used with your uncle. He liked to see as much of my body as possible. Do you like my tattoes by the way? Your uncle was mad about them."

Without thinking I blurted out, "I prefer my flesh unblemished," biting my tongue as I said it and sounding like a younger version of Hannibal Lecter. "Whatever possessed you to cover your body with all that stuff?" I asked rather judgementally, making matters even worse.

He blushed again. "Mostly on the recommendation of one girl friend or another. As I said I like to please people. Maybe I can please you in some other way."

"Maybe," I said, embarrassed to have offended him. Our strange choice of vocabulary was probably indicative of this embarrassment. I'd never used a word like 'unblemished' before and I was sure that 'dallied' was completely new to his lexicon too. The fact of the matter was both of us had the hots for each other but neither of us knew how to make the first move. Especially in my uncle's house so shortly after his demise. There I go again.

"How you doing with the leg machine?" he finally asked.

"I must say I could do with a little help," I admitted.

He began by helping me open and close the machine manually catching hold of the struts and making the going easy for me. He sat on a stool in front of me looking in my eyes and smiling all the while. Soon I was aware that he was no longer using the struts but opening and closing my legs with my thighs. As he built up a steady rhythm my growing bulge threatened to burst the cotton of my pants.

"I can see you are enjoying this," he said, still smiling. "Glad to be giving you pleasure at last."

"You wanna see some more?" I said lifting my butt so he could drag down my shorts.

"You bet," he said as my nine-incher emerged in all its glory. "Wow that's some dick."

He didn't say another word for quite a while but occupied himself by licking my throbbing shaft from stem to stern. Occasionally, he'd look up and smile and between his tongue and his smiles my dick fairly melted. During the course of his endeavours, the towel slipped from around his waist and I saw that I was giving him great pleasure too. He's what I call a leaker so very soon I was able to gather a pool of his pre-cum in the palm of my hand enough to lubricate my dick and the entrance to his ass which had somehow worked its way onto my lap. That ass was something else. The best part of his anatomy. So smooth and strong and unwritten upon. Don't ask me how but with the support of the iron swing behind me and the swing of my iron dick before me I managed to enter him -- you might actually say muscled in on him -- making him fly to the sky, or more exactly roar into orbit. He sure made a lot of noise before finally settling down on my dick. I persevered as I didn't know if I was ever going to get such a golden opportunity again to fuck such a hunk of manhood and I wanted to make the most of it.

When he finally got used to having all of my nine-inches inside him he lifted himself up and down on my dick groaning appreciatively as if trying out some new-fangled machine. And of course smiling all the time. He really made some sense of that phrase, 'That will put a smile on your face.' He certainly put a smile on mine. Eventually after a slow rhythmic process (with lots of smiles) he finally said "I'm coming," and surprised me by standing up and spraying my chest right up to my chin. For my part, I got him in the mouth, on the nose and even on his long, luscious eyelashes. Naturally he smiled as the cum ran down his face and kissed me. It was gross and it was great and left a pleasant taste in both our mouths.

Afterwards he asked me if I would be so kind as to return his photos as they might prove 'rather compromising.' I duly did so but asked him if I could keep one. He's taken the apparatus away now but I don't think I'm ever going to be able to wean him off my machine. He keeps coming back for more. His bare butt looks more delectable than ever. I want to put my stamp on it and am tempted to ask him if he would consider engraving John on one cheek and Charles on the other but maybe that would be 'rather compromising' as well. Still I'll give it a whirl. After all he can only say no but I have a feeling he won't. You see I've inherited the powers of persuasion from my great-uncle.