Monkey Sorenson had not been christened "Monkey." His given name was Arni, but when his Uncle Sven, a logger, had seen how young Arni loved to climb, especially the trees in the stand of forest at the back of his parent's property on the British Columbia coast, he had nicknamed the boy "Monkey." The name had stuck.

Monkey loved the forest. He especially loved to strip off and go right back to nature, climbing trees naked, like a real monkey - even though he didn't really care for the nickname too much.

It was when Monkey was around sixteen that Sven caught him doing just that. Sven, on a visit, had come looking for Monkey. His uncle knew he would find him in the stand of forest somewhere. He just didn't know he would find him naked, up a tree, jerking off.

"Well, I'll be a monkey's uncle," Sven laughed, using the corny expression for the first time, but not the last. From then on, he would use it again and again, whenever Monkey did something to amuse or amaze Sven.

"When you're finished wanking, come on down and give yer old uncle a hug," he roared up at Monkey, who practically fell out of the tree in surprise. He never did finish that wank, but clambered down the tree, rather shamefacedly.

"Don't worry about it," said Uncle Sven, tousling the boy's shock of blond hair, "yer old uncle's not going to tell anyone about it." Not that Sven was so very old. He just seemed that way to Monkey at sixteen. Sven was, in fact, only thirty-two. Sven had been logging since he was sixteen also, so he had already spent half his life at the game.

Like many loggers, Sven had gotten into heavy drinking and drugging early in his career in the forests, but had quit all that shit five years before, when his best buddy, Todd - who had been not only just his buddy, but his secret lover, too - had been killed in a nasty logging accident after one of their weekend binges. Sven was a changed man after that.

Sven, a big man, was as dark as Monkey was blonde, not your stereotypical Norwegian. Monkey's dad, Sven's brother, who was blonde like his son, used to joke that Sven was the black sheep of the family, and that Sven must have been conceived while their father was away in a logging camp.

Monkey's dad had chosen not to follow his father into the woods. He had become a mechanic instead. But Sven had loved their father's tales of his logging days, and had followed his father's footsteps.

Sven would often take young Monkey hiking and climbing with him in the Coast Mountains. Together they would climb the slopes above the Strait of Georgia and marvel at the views, and fish and swim in the mountain lakes, sometimes staying overnight, sleeping cuddled together in a pup-tent.

When Monkey had turned seventeen, and had gradated high-school, but had not yet found a job, because there was a bit of a recession going on, it was Uncle Sven who had suggested that because Monkey loved the woods, and loved climbing mountains and trees, the loggers' life might be what he was looking for.

When Monkey leapt at the suggestion, Sven managed to get him hired as a newbie apprentice, with Sven himself as his mentor.

And the first thing Sven taught him was that in camp, he would no longer be Uncle Sven, just Sven.

In the weeks that followed, both during the day, and in their off-times in camp, Sven taught Monkey all the other skills he needed to survive at this dangerous trade. He taught him what clothes to wear, and what safety equipment.

He taught him how to use and care for his chain saw, and how to fell small trees with it.

Sven showed him how he felled larger trees, a skill Sven would learn in the years to come. Sven was a master at it, never making a mistake, always dropping the tree just where he wanted it, making it easy to buck off the excess branches, making it accessible for the skidders to tow it away.

He also taught him how to buck up logs when necessary, to make them ready for the logging trucks to haul down the mountains. Monkey was a willing pupil and soon was a skilled hand at prepping the logs.

Monkey learned fast, and before long, Sven was teaching him the rudiments of climbing the forests giants to top and trim them before felling them, using the saddle and the spurs to cling to the trunk and scale up and descend safely.

The days were mostly hot and sweaty and strenuous, but this far up the mountain, on this rainy coast, they were also often cold and sweaty and strenuous.

By evening, all the loggers in the camp were happy to shower, and eat in the mess trailer, and sit around and bullshit. Some even secretly swigged a few illicit brews, because like most camps now it was supposedly alcohol and drug free, mostly because of many tragic accidents like Todd's. And at the end of the evenings, the men would retire to their prefabricated accommodations, usually two men to a room.

Monkey got to share a room with Sven, who had been working this camp for three years now, and had fixed up his room to suit himself.

But Monkey had a terrible secret, one he could confide to no-one - Monkey was in love with his uncle. It was not just love in the familial sense. Monkey loved Sven romantically, emotionally — and sexually!

At night, when they lay in their respective beds, Monkey would imagine making physical love with his uncle. Although he had played "rudies" with other boys, naked in the forest, and they had explored each other in all ways imaginable — sucking, fingering, fucking, and rimming - Monkey had never been in love before. And on these sleepless nights, his secret love gnawed at him as he imagined Sven holding him, kissing him, and yes, fucking him.

Every night, Monkey would jerk off beneath the sheets into Kleenex, and hide the results from Sven.

Then one night, while he was beating his meat in the darkness, Monkey heard strange noises from Sven's bed. They were rather sexual noises, much as Monkey himself made when he was masturbating alone and nearing climax — groans and heavy breathing.

Monkey crept out of bed, naked in the dark. He approached Sven's bed. He could make out Sven's huge, muscular figure in the gloom, lying on his back on his bed, also naked, only his lower half covered by a light sheet.

Sven was tossing and turning, and Monkey thought he heard him mumble, "I love you, Honey," but he wasn't sure.

What was for sure, though, was that Sven was having a sex dream! He had a huge erection under the sheet. Monkey could even see a damp spot where pre-cum was seeping through. He just had to see the whole thing in all its naked glory.

Carefully, so as not to awaken the slumbering giant, Monkey lifted and drew back the covering sheet. At last he beheld his uncle's cock erect and inviting. It was a huge pillar, thick and circumcised, with its knob darkly purple, like an exotic mushroom.

A strand of pre-cum swung between Sven's dick and his belly. Monkey just had to have this this juicy morsel. Still very carefully, Monkey drew the covering sheet off his uncle. He pulled it right down to the bottom of the bed, and onto the floor. Maybe it was the sudden cooler air which made Sven stir, but whatever it was, Sven parted his legs even wider than they had already been, giving Monkey even easier access to the man's genitalia.

Very carefully, very quietly, he climbed onto the bed, crouching between Sven's spread legs. Very gently he touched one of Sven's erect nipples. Very carefully he bent his face down to Sven's cock. Very carefully, he took the knob into his mouth, expecting Sven to stir at any moment.

Monkey closed his lips over the huge cock-head, touching it tentatively with his tongue. He felt the pre-cum slipperiness, and sucked a little, tasting the sweet-salty man-fluid.

"Well, I'll be a monkey's uncle!" came Sven's voice from the dark. Monkey went to sit up, but a huge, heavy hand pushed him right back down where he had been, sucking cock. "I never figured you to be into man-sex," Sven told him. "But since you are …"

When Monkey stopped struggling to get up off Sven's cock, the hand released his head. He sat up and looked at his uncle, guiltily.

"I'm sorry," he sputtered. "Please don't tell anyone. I won't do it again."

"What's to be sorry for?" Sven queried. "I loved it. Do it some more."

"But you're not…" Monkey began.

"Not a homo?" Sven finished. "Sure I am. Why the fuck do you think I've not got a girlfriend? I've always preferred guys! "

"Really?" mused Monkey, tentatively fondling the man's stiff dick.

"Really," Sven assured him. "But there's been no man-sex for me since … since Todd died … until now. Suck me some more, please?

"I thought you were asleep," Monkey mumbled.

"I was, until you pulled the sheets off my dick," Sven told him. "I wanted to see how far you'd go! I nearly blew my load when you took my dick in your mouth. Do it again, please."

So Monkey did it again and again, until his jaw was aching.

Eventually, he lifted his head, and looked at his uncle imploringly. "I can't suck it any more. My jaw hurts. Will you fuck me?" he begged.

"Are you sure?" his uncle asked, concerned. "It's pretty big. It might hurt you."

"I don't care." Monkey exclaimed. "I just want you in me."

"Well," Sven pondered, "maybe if you climb up here and sit down on it. That way you have control. You can pull it out if it hurts too much."

Monkey knelt straddling his uncle's abdomen, facing him, while Sven spat gobs of spit onto his hand and used it to lubricate his mighty cock. Monkey spat on his own hand, and reached back and lubricated his own asshole. The he slowly lowered himself onto Sven's standing timber, which he was holding erect to welcome the descending hole.

The knob slipped into Monkey, but not easily at first. The pain as his sphincter stretched was intense. Monkey wanted to scream, to rise up, to pull that thing out of himself, but he persevered, pressing back and down, back and down, and the knob forced its way inside him. Then the knob was past the obstruction of the muscle rings and into his colon. The shaft easily followed the knob, and Monkey sat down onto Sven's rigid member, all pain gone.

"Oh, fuck," Sven exclaimed. "That's so fucking good!"

"Yes," agreed Monkey, "That's so fucking good!"

"Lean forward and give me a kiss," suggested Sven. Monkey did so, and the man and boy muzzled and kissed and licked at each other while Monkey rode up on down on Sven's massive tool, loving every moment of their union.

When Sven had finally cum inside Monkey's ass, and they were cuddled up together, and Monkey was spooned in to the older man, Monkey whispered,

"I love you, Sven."

"And I love you, Arni," came the reply.

"I love you, Arni!" That's what Sven had mumbled in his sleep; not "I love you, Honey." Sven had been having a wet-dream about him! And had called him Arni, his real name, not the kid's name he had lived with for years.

Arni snuggled in closer to his uncle, his lover.

When they came out of camp at the end of that time in, Arni moved in with Sven. Nobody thought twice about two workmates sharing an apartment, especially not an uncle and his nephew. But Arni and Sven never slept apart again.

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