My cousin Robert telephoned to say that his dad was seriously ill.  I was sorry to hear that and more sorry that I had not been in touch with my Uncle Frank for too long a time.  I had been working a lot of overtime but that was a weak excuse for not maintaining contact with my family.  Robert explained that a practical nurse from hospice had been coming to the house daily to take his vital signs.  HOSPICE!  That meant that my uncle was terminally ill!  Robert explained that his dad insisted on dying at home but he no longer had the strength to dress, fix his meals, or even walk unaided to the bathroom.  Robert, his only son, had been staying with him evenings and overnight and his wife, June, had taken the daytime shift.  That had been going on for three weeks.  I was upset that they had not told me about Uncle Frank’s illness sooner but chose not to make our already precarious relationship worse.  He had hardly spoken to me since he found out I was gay or as he put it, “a degenerate sinner.”  Then came the real reason for the call: would I spend a few nights with his dad so he and June could get some much-needed rest?  Of course, I agreed.

I arrived at my uncle’s house after work on Thursday.  Robert briefed me on what to do.  It wasn’t much.  “Dad’s had supper,” he said, “and June will be here in the morning to fix his breakfast.  She’s usually here at seven so you’ll be free to leave then.  But — if you wouldn’t mind — could you give him his bath tonight and help him use the toilet when he needs to?  Oh, there’s clean linen on the bed in the spare bedroom.  You should be able to get a full night’s sleep.” 

He thanked me for helping out and left without so much as a “How’re you doing?” or “Good to see you.”  At least he didn’t lecture me on my “perverted ways” as he had often done in the past.

I walked into my uncle’s bedroom.  I wasn’t expecting what I found.  I remembered him as a muscular, vigorous man even into his middle age but he was now frail and gaunt, looking twenty years older than his age.  “Jimmy Boy!” he exclaimed as his face lit up in a broad smile.  “I’m glad to see you.”  I was twenty eight years old but he had called me “Jimmy Boy” since I was a child.

“Good to see you, too, Uncle Frank,” I replied with a smile that I hoped would cover my sadness to see him so feeble and pale.  Although we lived just thirty miles apart, I hadn’t seen him for months.  Back then, he was fit, healthy, and enjoying his retirement.  He spent a lot of time on his hobby, wood working, and played golf at least twice a week.  Now, his body was wasting away and he needed help to complete the most basic tasks of life.

His mind and wit, however, were not the least bit impaired and we talked for almost two hours, recalling the pleasant times we had enjoyed when I was a child and he was much younger.  He joked and laughed about many of the things we did together.  I was pleased that, in spite of his infirmity, his mood seemed quite upbeat.  But, when his energy waned, he grew somber and said, “Damn cancer!  Takes the get-up-and-go right outta me.  Can’t hardly get up, much less go.”

“What’s the prognosis?” I asked but immediately regretted it because it might depress him.

“Terminal,” he said succinctly but added, “Found out about it too late, too late for any kind of treatment.  Doc gave me two months.  That was three months ago.”

“You always were a fighter,” I said.  “Maybe you’ll beat it.”

He laughed, a kind of sarcastic laugh.  “Seen any pigs flying lately?” he asked.

“No,” I said contritely.  “I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too, Jimmy.  Not for dying.  I’m ready for that.  I’m sorry that I didn’t get to do all the things I wanted to do.  Oh well.  I s’pose everybody who’s ever lived thinks that way.  We gotta play the hand we’re dealt.  Enough of that!  I’m gettin’ tired.  Would you mind helpin’ me into the bathroom?  I don’t wanna pee my pants and wet the bed.”

It was relatively easy getting him out of bed; he probably weighed only a hundred pounds.  He insisted on using his walker without my help but I stayed close in case he started to fall.  With what appeared to be herculean effort on his part, he dropped his pajama bottoms and literally fell into a sitting position on the toilet.

With a sigh (Was it from pain or relief?) he said, “It ain’t only women that sit to pee.  Sick old men hafta do it, too.”

“That’s not all,” I said, trying to maintain the light-hearted mood.  “I remember sitting down to pee when I was little.”

“Yeah,” he laughed as a massive stream of urine crashed loudly into the toilet.  “And your mama had to teach you to hold your willy and aim it so’s you didn’t pee all over the floor.  ‘Course now you’ve got better things to aim it at, don’tcha?.”

“HEY!” I exclaimed.  “Don’t be making fun of my love life!”

My uncle knew I was gay.  In fact, he was the first one in my family to know.  I expected that he would take the news with an open mind and I was not disappointed.  “Well, Jimmy Boy,” he had said, “If that’s what you want, then I wish you happiness.”  His acceptance of my homosexuality was a sharp contrast to my parents’ reaction.  Mom was disappointed and cried a lot; Dad was positively hostile until the day he drowned on a fishing trip ten years ago.  Uncle Frank, however, always had a sympathetic ear as I struggled to come to terms with my homosexuality.  He never judged me.  He listened.  He asked all the right questions to make me think it through.  And accepted most of my answers but challenged me when I wasn’t honest or hadn’t thought deeply enough.  With only a high school education he was the perfect counselor.

“So how are you and Jon gettin’ along?” he asked.

“Couldn’t be better,” I replied honestly.

“Still gettin’ all the sex you want, then?” he asked with a wicked grin.

“Yes,” I answered.  “But that’s all I’m going to say.  Just ‘cause you were like a second dad to me doesn’t give you the right to know everything about my sex life.”

“Well....” he began but paused.  “I was just wonderin’....”

“Wondering what?” I asked.

“Never mind.  I gotta take a bath.  June will be pissed tomorrow if I smell like a locker room.  Can’t stand that woman’s bitching and nagging.  Don’t know how Robert puts up with it.  Molly” [his late wife] “wasn’t like that, thank God.  She was a passive little thing.  Even in bed.”

“Too much information!” I said.  “Just sit there while I fill the tub.”

When the bath water was ready, I helped him off with his pajamas.  “Skin and bones” is a cliché but he was the nearest thing I had ever seen to a living skeleton.  Except for his cock.  It was slightly above average in size but seemed massive in contrast to his emaciated frame.  Getting him into the tub was scary.  I was afraid he would slip, fall, and break a bone or two but I finally got him settled onto a handicap chair in the tub.

“I know I’m a royal pain in the ass, Jimmy Boy, but I gotta ask you to wash me.  I’m all worn out.  Don’t have the strength right now to do it.”

I took off my shirt so it wouldn’t get wet.  He stared at my chest and abdomen.  I assumed he was wishing he was still solid muscle.  When I had washed everything from the waist up I asked, “Do you want to wash your private parts?”

He shot me a grin I couldn’t interpret, but then he added with a wicked grin, , “No, I’d LIKE you to do it if you don’t mind.  Don’t worry.  I won’t be getting’ a hard-on like when you and Jon wash each other.”  I let his comment pass.

He was wrong.  By the time I pulled back his foreskin, the swelling in his cock was unmistakable.  I moved quickly to wash his legs to save him embarrassment.

“You sure you got it clean?” he asked.  “Robert won’t never touch it ... but to tell the truth ... it felt good.”

I took the hint and returned my attention to his manhood.  If I could give him a little pleasure, I was willing to do so.  His cock rose as I massaged it with my soapy hands.  Not surprisingly, fondling him was not the least bit arousing for me.  Instead, I was glad to be giving him something that he obviously enjoyed. When I glanced up, I saw his eyes were closed and there was a half-smile on his face.  What’s the harm? I asked myself and started stroking his rigid hard-on.  He moaned softly with pleasure, which I took to mean he wanted me to continue.  I gradually increased the pace to jack him off.

After several minutes he inhaled sharply, jerked, and shot a single, small load of cum.  That pleased me but I became concerned when he started to tremble.  Fearing that he might fall off the chair, I put my arm around him and held him tightly.  He laid his head on my shoulder and croaked, “Thanks, Jimmy Boy.  That’s exactly what this old man needed.”

I didn’t reply.  What could I say?  I had just jerked off my uncle.  He was grateful but I had a vague sense of guilt.  When I felt he had recovered and was steady enough, I helped him out of the tub and dried him off.  When I was drying his penis, he said, “Been a long time since the little feller felt like that.  Thanks again.”  I didn’t respond.  What could I say?  The distasteful idea of incest ricocheted around in my head.  Never mind that he had, in effect, asked me to masturbate him; I wondered whether I was guilty of elder abuse.

I helped him put on fresh pajamas.  Although he struggled to walk back to his bedroom, he emphatically refused my help.  When he was settled into bed, he apologized that he was sleepy.  Impulsively, I leaned down, kissed him on the forehead, and then saw a tear roll down his cheek.  “Pain?” I asked.

“Nah.  Nothing I can’t handle.  It’s just that ... well ... I love you, Jimmy Boy.”

“And I love you, Uncle Frank.  Always have.”

“GO!” he suddenly commanded.  “I’ll call if I need anything.”

I was puzzled by his abrupt and insistent command to leave until I guessed that he was exhausted.  Or perhaps ashamed that I might see him cry.  Who wouldn’t cry facing impending death? 

I went into the living room and called Jon to apologize (again) for leaving him alone.  It was the first night since we moved in together that we had not fallen asleep in each other’s arms — usually but not always after a round of exhilarating sex.  He understood the situation and assured me that I need not apologize for caring for my uncle.

I turned on the television, keeping the sound low, but couldn’t get interested in whatever was playing.  My thoughts were on Uncle Frank and what a cruel twist of fate was destroying his body and robbing him of his life.  I wondered if he had enjoyed any sex — other than with his fist — since my aunt died twenty years ago.  No, I concluded, he was not the kind to use a prostitute nor, as far as I knew, did he have any women friends.

I checked on him about an hour later.  He was sleeping soundly so I went to bed in the spare bedroom — the bedroom that had once been his son Robert’s and in which I had spent many hours as a small boy playing with my cousin. 

<><><><><>

The next day, Robert called again and asked if I could spend two more nights with his dad on Friday and Saturday.  Knowing what a strain it must have been for him to care for his father every night, I quickly agreed.

Uncle Frank greeted me enthusiastically.  “Hi there, Jimmy Boy!”

“Hi yourself,” I said.  “How’re you feeling today?”

“Gettin’ by,” he replied.  But it struck me that his characteristic, sunny attitude was fading.  “Sit down.  I wanna talk to you about somethin’.”

I sat on the side of the bed and asked, “What’s on your mind?”

“I’ve been thinking.  Hell, that’s all I CAN do anymore.  Anyway, I want you to know that I love you.  I love Robert, of course, but he can be so narrow-minded at times.  That’s his mother in him.  She was a religious fanatic and it rubbed off on him.  She tried to convert me but I couldn’t abide by the self-righteous crowd she admired.  You’re different.  You have the sense to see the world as it is.  And see yourself for what you are.  I admire you for that.  I love you for that.  But I’m gettin’ off track.  I wanna apologize for last night.  I was outta line lettin’ you jack me off.  Hell, I didn’t just LET you.  I as much as asked you to.  It was unfair to you.  It was unfair to Jon.  Oh, I know, you were just doin’ me a favor.  And I’m grateful.  But I shouldna let you do it.  I’m sorry.”

“No apology necessary,” I said.  “I was glad I made you feel good.  And don’t worry about me and Jon.  I told him what happened and you know what?  He kissed me and said he was glad I did it.  He knows that I love him and wouldn’t cheat on him.  Last night wasn’t cheating.  Consider it a little bit of therapy.  Okay?”

“GODDAMN IT!” he exclaimed.  I was shocked by the sudden burst of anger.  “You have no idea what it meant to me, do you?  Let me clue you in to somethin’ that nobody else in the world knows.  Remember when you were a boy and we had long talks about bein’ gay?  About how you can know for sure?  About how to be honest with yourself?  Ever wonder what I was feeling at the time?  No.  Don’t guess you would.  I’ll tell you.  I understood everything you said because I had the same feelings when I was a young boy.  Yeah, Jimmy Boy, I’m as queer as you are.  Difference is I hid it from everybody.  Times were different then.  Gay meant happy.  Homos were queers or fairies and were tormented viciously.  So what did we do?  We hid it.  We got married.  We lived a so-called respectable life.  But let me tell you.  The feelings never go away.  They just fester inside.  Last night.  You were doing me a favor.  But — in my mind — I was having the gay experience that I’d wanted for much too long.”

I started to speak but he cut me off.

“Just shut up!  Let me finish.  I’m not foolish enough to think jerkin’ me off was anything more than a favor to an old man.  I know it didn’t mean to you what it meant to me.  But damn it!  It was somethin’ I wanted most before I died.  Somethin’ I wanted for a long time.  You gave it to me, Jimmy Boy.  There’s no way I can thank you enough.”

“You just did, Uncle Frank.  You’re right.  I had no idea what it might mean to you but now that I do, I’m even happier that we did it.”

We talked for another hour mostly about what it was like to live in the closet and all the different forms of pretense he had to go through to conceal what he called his dark urges.  He confessed that he never really enjoyed sex with his wife and sometimes pretended that he was fucking a man.  It was a sad story but he told it with an objective detachment and with no hint of eliciting sympathy.

During our conversation I got an idea.  The more I thought about it, the more right it seemed.  I would give him the pleasure he always wanted but never had.

“About bedtime, isn’t it?” I asked.

“Nah,” he said, somewhat surprised at the sudden change in the conversation.  “It’s not that late.  We can talk some more.”

“We can talk later,” I said.  I stood by his bed and started to take off my clothes.  He watched me, no doubt confused about why I had insisted on bedtime and why I was undressing.

When I had my shirt, my shoes, and my socks off and tossed carelessly on the floor, he must have deduced what I was about to do.  “STOP RIGHT THERE!” he loudly exclaimed.  “I didn’t tell you how I felt last night just so’s you’d do me another favor!”

“I know that.” I said.  “That was not your intent.  But it gave me an idea.  I’m sleeping in here with you tonight.  In your bed.  But before we go to sleep, you’re going to have a REAL gay experience.  Let me do it, Uncle Frank.  Please.  Let me show you how much I love you.”

“But Jon....” he objected.

I interrupted him.  “Trust me.  Jon will understand.  He would want me to do it.”

Without waiting for more objections, I quickly pulled down my trousers and briefs and stood next to his bed.  His eyes scanned up and down my naked body, settling on my crotch.  I allowed him plenty of time to absorb the sight.  Have you ever seen a little child peering through the window of a candy store?  That’s the look of longing that flooded my uncle’s face as he ogled me.

“You don’t have to do this,” he said unconvincingly.  But after a pause he added more forcefully, “I don’t need no more favors.  What’s more, I sure as HELL don’t want any GODDAM SYMPATHY!”

“It isn’t sympathy,” I countered.  “I want to do it as a gift to someone I love.”  I didn’t wait for any more arguments but lay down beside him.  I kissed him on the cheek and began to unbutton the front of his pajama tops. 

When I started to tease his nipples, he said weakly, “This ain’t right, Jimmy Boy.”

“Yes it is,” I said.  “I want to do it.  You’ll enjoy it.  What can be wrong with that?”

I don’t know if it was what I said or the fact that my hand had slipped down his pajama bottoms and was fondling his cock but he no longer resisted.  His dreamy expression was clear evidence that he would submit to my ministrations.  Bearing in mind his frail condition, I was gentle yet tried to be as erotic as possible.  I felt his cock swelling in my hand.  I kissed and licked my way down from his nipples to the waistband of his pajamas.  He didn’t object when I pulled down his pajama bottoms enough to provide full access to his erect penis.  I licked his balls for a short time before licking up from the root to the tip of his twitching cock.  I teased his cockhead with my tongue.  I sucked him slowly to prolong his pleasure.  I slipped a finger into the crack of his ass and rubbed his puckered hole.  I heard soft moans that told me he was enjoying every moment, every sensation, every step closer to orgasm.

When I did to Jon what I was doing to my uncle, I would quickly get a hard-on.  This was different; I was not aroused.  But one thing was the same.  Sex with Jon was a way to show my love for him.  I was showing Uncle Frank my love ... although a different kind of love.

I moistened my finger in my mouth and pressed it ever so gently into his rectum.  As I did so, I heard him gasp, followed by moans of pleasure.  I sucked and finger-fucked him for several minutes accompanied by his quiet, indistinct mumblings.  His moans were then interrupted by his cooing, “I’m gonna cum, Andy.”

I didn’t know why he called me Andy but I readied myself to receive his sperm.  He bucked his hips and screamed as I tasted his creamy nectar.

I lay down beside him, put my arm across his chest, and kissed him on the cheek.  His reaction to my kiss was unexpected.  He turned his head and kissed me full on the lips.  I chose not to invade his mouth with my tongue — not that I had a chance because his kiss was very brief.  He settled his head back down on the pillow with his eyes closed and a satisfied smile on his lips.  After a few minutes he said, “Thanks, Jimmy Boy.  That was everythin’ I’d imagined and more.”

“I’m delighted you liked it,” I said.  “But who is Andy?”

He gave me a deer-in-the-headlights look for what seemed to be a long time.  He turned his head to look away from me and grunted, “Stupid question!”

“Not so stupid, Uncle Frank.  You called me Andy just before you came.”

He jerked his head toward me.  I could see fear in his eyes.  “Oh, all right!  If you gotta know, Andy was a shipmate in the Navy.  Handsomest stud I ever met.  ‘Specially in the shower.  Broad shoulders, massive chest, and a firm, tiny butt.  God, what a cock he had.  He’s the one I thought about when I was alone in the head beatin’ my meat.  He’s the one I imagined givin’ me the blow job just now.  ‘Course it was you doin’ it but in my mind it was Andy.  Does that make me a crazy old fool?  Out of touch with reality?”

“Not at all.  I’ve done the same thing ... before I met Jon.  The only difference is that my fantasies were of whatever boy interested me at the time.  I suspect it’s quite common.  And it sure increases the pleasure of jerking off.”  I kissed him — on the lips —and let my tongue slip into his mouth briefly.  He responded with vigor that I didn’t expect from a weak, frail person.  The kiss continued as our tongues probed each other’s mouth.  But his head fell back onto the pillow and he seemed exhausted.

I lay back down, draped an arm across his thin chest and a leg over his spindly legs so my cock was pressed against his hip.  “I love you, Uncle Frank.  Sleep well.”

He dozed off long before I did.  I lay awake thinking of his courage in facing death, his frustration as a closet gay for decades, and (I hoped) the brief moment of joy I had given him. 

<><><><><>  

The following night I arrived at Uncle Frank’s house unsure about what we might do together.  I wanted to make his final days as happy as possible but I had begun to worry that he might misinterpret things if sex became routine.  I resolved to make frequent mention of my love for Jon so he would understand that any sex we had was merely sex. 

June met me at the door and said, “Robert’s father” (It was significant that she called him that ... as if Uncle Frank was her husband’s problem and not hers.) “took a turn for the worse today.  He can’t make it to the bathroom and has to use a bedpan.  He’s even grumpier than usual.”  I refrained from contradicting her by pointing out that I had never found him to be grumpy or that enduring pain can make anyone irritable.  She made a hasty exit with a parting comment, “Good luck with the old fart tonight.”  I was left wondering if she had any compassion at all.

I found Uncle Frank asleep.  I opened a book I had brought and sat in the easy chair in his bedroom.  I wanted to be close by if he awakened and needed something.  Half an hour later, I was startled when he called out, “Jimmy Boy!  When did you get here?”

“A little while ago,” I replied.  “How are you feeling?”

“Not so hot,” he said with a tone of resignation.  “It’s funny.  A guy gets to the point of wishin’ to die.”

“I understand,” I said although I couldn’t really understand since I didn’t know the pain he was in.  “It’s just not your time yet.”

“My time!” he snarled.  “Don’t give me any shit about some divine plan!  Don’t act like some hypocritical preacher!”

I walked over and sat on the edge of his bed.  I could have tried to point out the difference between spirituality and organized religions but it seemed pointless.  I even suspected that his son and daughter-in-law had tried to impose their church’s doctrine on him once too often.

“Can I do anything for you, Uncle Frank?  Do you want something to drink?  Do you have to pee?”

“Nah.  Well ... maybe hand me a mint from the nightstand.  My throat’s kinda dry.”

We talked for a while about happier times when we were both much younger until I asked again, “Want another mint?”

“Nah,” he sighed.  “But there is somthin’ I’d like.”

“What’s that?” I asked.

He paused.  He seemed hesitant to say what he wanted.   “I’m gonna ask a favor.  You can say no if you wanna.  But would you get undressed, lie down beside me, and just hold me?”

“I’d like that,” I said with a grin.  I stripped and stood so he could look at me.  Then, guessing what he really wanted, I took off his pajamas and snuggled up next to him.  In a few moments, I felt his hand touch my cock.

“Can I?” he asked.

“Of course.”

He was obviously happy to be able to fondle another man’s cock without feeling shame or guilt.  He must have been happier still when my cock responded to his manipulations by engorging and standing erect.

“You know,” he said.  “What you did for me last night ... it was wonderful ... almost everything I’d wanted my whole life.”

“Almost?” I asked.

“I know it’s a lot to ask, Jimmy Boy, but there’s one more experience I’d like to have before I die.  I want the feel and taste of a man’s cock in my mouth.  You don’t hafta but it would mean a lot to me if you let me taste yours.”

There was no way I could refuse.  Even if I were straight and homophobic, I couldn’t deny a favor to the uncle I loved.  He had no strength to move so I straddled his shoulders and guided my hard-on into his mouth.  He eagerly accepted the intrusion and even grabbed the cheeks of my ass to pull me farther into him.  For a long time, he sucked and licked on my cock.  He obviously didn’t know that he should keep his teeth out of the way but I was not going to stop him.  He was enjoying it and I wasn’t about to dampen his joy.

Eventually, he tired.  His head fell back onto the pillow with a broad smile on his face.  “Thanks,” he said.  “I love you, Jimmy Boy.  ‘Course not like Jon does,” he hastily added.  “But I love you for your kindness.”

We cuddled next to each other.  He wrapped his hand around my still-hard cock and held it until it was limp.  I thought he had gone to sleep but he surprised me by speaking.  “I dunno if there’s a heaven, Jimmy Boy, but if there is I want to spend eternity just like this —  layin’ next to a handsome naked man like you..  Wonderful is what it is.”

“I hope there is a heaven,” I said.  “And I hope the man next to you is Andy.”

<><><><><> 

At six on the following Wednesday morning, Jon and I were making love when the phone rang.  I was going to ignore it but a phone call at that hour can only be bad news.  It had to be about Uncle Frank.  I picked up the phone.  The call was from Robert.  Uncle Frank had passed away in his sleep the previous night.

I knew it was coming.  I thought I had prepared myself.  But I cried.