Uncle Bartram and I talked long and warmly into those summer evenings. To that point in my life, I had had no one in whom to confide, no one who seemingly shared my interests however forbidden they seemed to me. He was unfailingly reassuring and always candid in his counsel. It was strange how easily I forgot the dusty past and the unexciting village I had lived in. Even though separated by merely a bus ride from my native town, Bartram's village and especially his comfortable and spacious cottage were light years from my repressive and uninteresting early years.

Often, our talks were accompanied by Uncle's favourite composer, Grieg, or occasionally Delius whom I came to like very much. Everything Uncle did was at a determined pace; never did I hear him shout or move about hurriedly. He was measured and methodical and I found that comforting. At bedtime, he would knock gently and then sit on the wide bed's edge and ask after my comfort. I told him truthfully, and often with incipient tears, that I had never been happier.

Uncle's generosity was total and he asked only a few things in return. He had a reasonable expectation of honesty from me which I was determined to honour and he also asked if I would consider "sharing" what he called my sexual gifts: i.e., should I find myself randy (which was often), could he act as Watcher, a role I came to understand much more than the simple word implied. Given that he had been the author of my finest pleasures to date, especially after my introduction to his consulting room and its many delights, I assured him he was welcome to be a Watcher.

One velvet afternoon, we returned to the boys' camp at which Uncle was a nurse-practitioner. As usual, I took a slatted-back chair overlooking the tranquil lake with its white floating docks while Uncle conferred with the camp's health director. I loved the placidity of the view, the very air seemed happy with youthful banter and cries of delight. There seemed to be energy everywhere and the bright colours of the campers' clothes were right out of some painting.

I had never thought of myself as handsome but was always inspired to find the quality in others. A slight but beautifully built Asian lad appeared to my immediate left and I looked up into a face that beguiled me: a mouth curved into a natural smile and two eyes that danced with intelligence. But his jet black hair entranced: shaded almost to green in its intensity and adorning his head with authority and grace. I almost didn't hear his greeting in my ongoing estimate of his imposing beauty.

He had asked whether I was Uncle's "visiting nephew," and whether I was enjoying Camp Carthage. I virtually levitated to my feet to be nearer Nao, as it turned out, whose deep blue polo and tight white camp shorts showed him to splendid effect. I stammered that I was indeed the nephew and almost gulped my enthusiasm for the summer and what it held. I asked Nao how it was he knew Uncle and Nao smiled broadly that Uncle Bartram had eased his stay at the camp and this country immeasurably. There are some voices that stay with you forever, and Nao's was one of these.

On the slow return ride to the cottage, I enquired of Nao and Uncle asked pointedly if I liked him. I had begun to learn that anything less than candour was foolish with Uncle and I admitted to great enthusiasm for him and his gentle manner. A moment of silence, and then Uncle hinted I would be seeing more of him since he was a "cousin," a term I later began to understand covered lads whom Uncle could trust in the arcane arts.

After one of Uncle's marvelous dinners eaten on the large porch fronting the cottage, we had just begun our tea and dessert when a dusty, wood-paneled station wagon with the camp's fern logo appeared at the driveway's end. Driven by the health director, its passenger seat was occupied by Nao who quickly bounded out and joined us on the porch in a cushioned wicker rocker. The fading sound of the injunction, "see you in the morning," signaled the wagon's departing.

Nao quickly had a cup of tea and sweet in hand and I found even more about him to admire: his decidedly graceful movements and the precise beauty of his head and face. It took but moments for me to feel at home with his quiet grace and Uncle leaned over to brush his shining hair from his forehead with affection and the observation that he looked so much more thriving than at summer's beginning. Nao's smile was incandescent in its agreement with the judgement. I learned that Nao was spending the summer at the camp because of poor health at the school to which he had been sent in the far north. Uncle had been called by the camp in early summer and it was obvious had brought about a profound change in the lad's health and demeanour.

Uncle's ability in the kitchen always surprised me; he had countless recipes for sweets and this evening's were, as usual, very small but freighted with flavour: some candied fruit in a light dough drizzled with tiny circles of pale icing. Nao's ability to take several scimitar bites from one of them delighted me; he was precision in motion. Not enough is said for moderation and the needed contrast it provides to more charged action.

As the sun produced that special golden light of late August, Uncle asked if we were up for a game of Watchers and even though I had only the most superficial understanding of the term at that point, I nodded as enthusiastically as Nao. My curiosity whether Nao had ever seen the consulting room was almost immediately satisfied when I found he practically led the three of us through the master bedroom to the heavy door beyond which lay so many delights.

The couch looked as accommodating as ever in its leather heaviness and I loved the outrightly antiseptic smell in the air, very light, very astringent. Uncle asked who wished to be the Watcher and Nao paradoxically pointed to me and said: "He should." All three of us laughed at the cheek but since my role seemed to be a passive one, I murmured agreement. Nao so fascinated me that I found the prospect of 'watching' him mesmerizing.

Nao was soon ensconced on the couch, its one section tilted to accommodate his upper back. Uncle urged his polo off and I was transported by the sight of his deeply tanned chest adorned by what looked like two miniature inverted flesh thimbles. Uncle said in his richly consoling voice that he saw that Nao had been faithful in using the nighttime suppos he had given Nao, something that the lad affirmed with enthusiasm. I now began to have a better understanding of why Uncle had urged me to do the same: that just prior to bedtime, to slip an ample suppository of his making into my rectum which seemed to bring about a deep night's sleep. But I now saw that it also had something to do with encouraging my nipples to move out from their former coin-like thinness to something more robust and ticklish and outrightly pleasurable. Nao was obviously under the same spell.

The camp shorts were soon dispatched as well and I saw that Nao was wearing silky deep blue underwear through which was apparent a lovely familiar shape. Uncle said that as Watcher, I could occupy one of the high chairs and he positioned it so that I was looking from the lower end of the couch, the one with the removable sections, and thus had a full view of everything about to transpire. The fullness in my own shorts gave ample evidence of my personal interest!

The beautiful and large rubber squeeze bulb was soon filled at the medical sink and Uncle expertly reached beneath Nao's willing hips and removed the underwear in one neat swoop. I was enthralled by the graceful arch to his uncircumcised and white penis, the neat double curves and deep red colour of his scrotum, and the luxurious puff of his pubes, long, black, and lustrous hair, very different from the crinkly mass of my own. Nao's smile seemed even warmer as he saw my intense interest and delight.

Uncle brought a lab light a little closer and peered intently at Nao's scrotum while moving it from side to side with his long and gentle fingers. "Time for a shave," was the soft remark as Uncle lathered up a soft short-haired brush in a shallow bowl and applied the lather to the ballsack in swirls. A gleaming straight razor swept over the taut and stretched surface that Uncle held with two fingers while swiping the lovely flesh. A nearby towel showed evidence of some black hairs and soon the scrotum was smooth, shining even, medium red in its new nudity.

Uncle adjusted the lab light and pointed out to me the superb raphe that Nao's scrotum held: that bisecting and special line that looked like miniature flesh stitching that ran from the base of his penis, across the scrotum, and to his anus. He scratched it gently with a fingernail and winked at me while Nao wrinkled in appreciation and pleasure.

Uncle often conveyed information in pantomime and nodded at me while indicating with his mouth what I might accomplish. In a twinkling, I abandoned my Watcher's post and was kneeling on a padded panel that extended from the very base of the couch, such that I was at eye level with the freshly shaved and fragrant scrotum. In a kind of special delirium, I extended my tongue and began licking the raphe repeatedly feeling the weight of Nao's testicles on my tongue as I did so. It obviously pleased Nao immensely and I was sorely tempted to take more liberties, but after running my tongue several more times from the base of the raphe to its apex, I returned to my position of Watcher. I had been transported.

The couch was adjusted, Nao's legs assumed more of an angle, and the cleft of his bum showed his waiting anus which was soon touched by the squeeze bulb's pouting and pointed outlet which disappeared a few inches inward after which Uncle squeezed the contents gently much to Nao's exhaled delight. The extendible and large funnel was brought up from the floor and Uncle urged Nao's expulsion which was forceful and productive. Uncle used a medicinal wipe carefully on his nates and then one of the ever ready towels from a side table.

Asked his preference of bags, Nao pointed with glee to a round red rubber glazed one with an insignia on the side; two quarts of a sudsy solution soon made the rounded shiny sides bulge and it was suspended on a metal and sturdy pole at Uncle's left. Red glossy tubing had been attached with a ratchet clamp and Uncle said he knew which nozzle Nao would favour and produced it: a black, hard rubber, dildo-shaped device with multiple holes around its large and bulbous head. This was coated with some viscous yellow lubricant and then gently worked into Nao's waiting anus while he closed his eyes in obvious delight.

A couple snaps of the ratchet signaled the enema's introduction to Nao's waiting gut and Uncle began the wondrously gentle massage of Nao's silken abdomen using the very motions that had transported me in my introduction to the consulting room. Nao had begun tweaking his nipples and Uncle offered him an opened jar of another unguent which Nao used to rub into and around what looked like flesh nuggets to me. I glanced at my shorts and saw that I had already left a coin-shaped tribute on the cloth. Being a Watcher was certainly more involving than I had imagined.

The bulging bag was slowly changing shape and Uncle varied from his circular massaging to adjusting the nozzle in Nao's rectum with slow circular motions that only enhanced Nao's very evident pleasure. I was surprised to hear Nao talking softly in his own language, words that seemed intense and mysterious. His belly was now moderately swollen and the bag almost empty.

As a naturopath, Uncle was remarkably deft in the manner he filled and emptied the enameled containers from which he transferred solutions into either bulbs or bags. I was surprised to see three smaller bulbs appear on the low table to the left of the couch, each wet with their springy load. While still massaging Nao's curved belly, he whispered: "More?"

Nao smiled his assent and brought his palms to his swollen belly as if to judge his capacity. Uncle glanced at me and said softly, "Another enema piggy, a little enema piggy." With that he swung the bulbous nozzle out of Nao's corrugated anus which I could see pulsing with the tension of holding the solution in place, and immediately replaced it with he ample tip of one of the smaller bulbs and squeezed. Nao's moans were of pleasure and that special fullness whose echoes I swore I could feel in my own gut. Uncle replaced the first bulb with a second, more squeezing, and Nao's body flexed and tensed with the additional load. Silence for a few seconds broken only by Nao's: "More." The third bulb was lodged in Nao's anus, squeezed fully, as Nao rubbed and rubbed his beautifully expanded belly. Finally, in a whisper, "It hurts just right."

Uncle deftly removed the third bulb and replaced it with a mushroom-headed black plug that fit snugly and held the solution in place. Nao alternated between ministering to his nipples and using his open palms on his distended belly, now closing his eyes, and now opening them to observe the proceedings in the large mirror off the end of the table making long sweeping motions from his pubes up to his navel and return.

The scene had left me with an explosive sexual sense and Uncle knew this. He whispered to Nao: "Time to share?" Nao's quick nod of affirmation brought about Uncle's mimed instructions to me to disrobe, something I did in a twinkling: polo off, shorts dropped, and undershorts peeled away. My penis waggled like a pet and I reflexively kneaded my tight almost aching scrotum.

"Up here," as Uncle patted the table simultaneous with his lowering the angle of the upper segment of the couch, and I saw that his intent was for me to straddle Nao's chest and I could only envision the rest in a near-swoon. My knees were soon on the leather while the inside of my legs felt Nao's soft warmth; he moved his head closer and his lovely mouth was inches from my now glistening penis. His hands had found my buttocks and were kneading them while guiding me closer until my glans glided into and was within his silken mouth. Uncle had brought my hands to Nao's firm and glistening slippery nipples which I tweaked in semi- circles of delight.

It is impossible to describe the pleasure I was feeling by Nao's gently swirling tongue which had expertly found my peehole and kept darting into it while bathing my glans in his mouth's juices. His clutching hands on my bum brought me deeper and deeper into his mouth and at that point, I could feel Uncle's capable hand on my scrotum from behind looking for and tickling my own raphe which was somewhat concealed by small hairs. I vowed to keep it shaved the first chance I got.

The climax was inevitable and if I had any doubt that my sperm would be unwelcome in Nao's mouth, it was cleared up by his enthusiastic moans as I jetted not as I had so many times into space but into the swirling confines of his mouth and throat. Uncle, meantime, had been lubricating Nao's penis with some light ointment and in the kneeling position that I occupied, I could feel several ample splashes on the exterior of my own anus and buttocks as Nao exploded.

The scene was incendiary as Nao milked my penis with his mouth, I continued to rub his nipples, Uncle managed with one hand to caress Nao's tumescent penis and with the other to massage Nao's sperm around and around my rounded bottom. Nao's seed had a pungent smell that I inhaled as deeply as I could.

I finally dismounted and sat transfixed on my high chair as Uncle expertly withdrew the butt plug permitting an almost uninterrupted gush from Nao into the extended large funnel and as soon as the expulsion was complete, Nao gestured for me to join him on the couch which I did in a thrice.

We softly embraced and, for me, shockingly kissed while Uncle ministered to us both with a light massage. I had never felt so fulfilled or wanted or valued as that evening. It was one more invaluable way station that Uncle Bartram provided for me on what proved to be a journey of rare pleasure.