Magic Tower

Keaton's Revenge

Keaton Paxman was a patient guy, on the whole. It took a lot to push him to the edge, and the longer he stayed in his uncle's mansion, the easier it became to weather his many practical jokes. But as April Fool's Day wore on and on and on, even a nice guy like Keaton reached his limit, and when he finally found his uncle in the mazelike rearrangement of the mansion, he blew his top.

"So that's where you've been hiding!" Keaton exploded. "I'm sick of dealing with your dumb gags and your puzzles and your--your--your deathtraps! You almost killed me back there with your crushing-walls bit!"

"Oh, it would never have hurt you," Uncle Parkinson said, and whether his voice was dripping with sincerity or mock sincerity, it was impossible to tell. "C'mon, Keaton, my boy. You should be pranking me back!"

"Pranking you? Pranking you?" Keaton repeated, growing redder and redder... and then he suddenly grew very quiet, very calm, as if all of his rage had been sucked back inside of him. He adjusted his tie and cleared his throat. "Pranking you, huh?" he said, grinning. He stepped back against the study door, locking it from the inside, slipping the key stealthily into his pocket. "Sure, sure. I think I can do that."

Keaton advanced on his uncle, his hands balled into fists at his side. Parkinson backed up against the bookshelves, a nervous smile plastered onto his round face. "M-my boy," he said, growing more anxious by the second. "Please, be reasonable about this..."

"Oh, I'll be reasonable." Keaton's grin grew wider as his uncle flattened up against the bookshelves. Keaton leaned in, further, their noses almost touching--Keaton towered over the smaller man. "After all...it's just a prank, right?"

His uncle blinked, and in less than a second, Keaton's hands were on his, pinning Parkinson's arms above his head. Keaton pressed his mouth to his uncle's, kissing him greedily, aggressively. His uncle's eyes widened and he opened his mouth to protest, only for Keaton's tongue to invade between his lips.

"Nngh--Keaton--" Parkinson tried to speak, but he could barely get the words out until Keaton pulled back, both of them heaving with deep breaths. "My boy, please, you don't want to do this," he pleaded.

"Oh, I think I do. And I think you want me to, don't you?" Keaton snickered, running a hand down to grasp at his uncle's crotch through his pants. Parkinson gasped. "Yeah, there you go. Filthy old man."

"I-I won't deny that it's thrilling," his uncle stammered, "but we can't! I mean, we shouldn't--"

Keaton glared at him. "You wanna stop me? Go right ahead." He freed Parkinson's other hand, then angled the man's chin upwards to look at him squarely. "If you want to."

His uncle's eyes darted back and forth nervously, then his eyelids drifted down. "A-all right," he mumbled. "Just...g-go easy on me, won't you?"

"Oh, I will," Keaton said, grinning again. "I'll go as easy on you as you would on me, dear uncle." He reached down to wrench down both of their pants--Keaton's blue jeans versus Parkinson's suit trousers--and began to grope his uncle's cock as he touched himself. "Come on. You like this, don't you?"

"I-I..."

"You can't fool me," Keaton continued, his eyes drilling into his uncle's. "You've wanted this ever since I set foot in your stupid mansion, haven't you? You've wanted to...to push me," he panted, his cock stiffening in his hand. "To make me...d-do this to you..."

"No, no," Parkinson protested, but even he was getting harder now, his cock dripping precum. "It wasn't like that...I swear..."

"Don't lie. You want it," Keaton said firmly, giving the other man's cock an insistent squeeze. His uncle moaned, pushing his hips upwards. "See, like that. God, you're such a whore!"

"I--I am! I admit it," Parkinson said. "But that doesn't mean--"

"I don't care. Turn around," his nephew ordered, slipping off his blue jacket and loosening his tie. "I'm gonna give it to you now, you got that?"

As Parkinson turned around, Keaton ran a hand down to the curve of his ass. His uncle was plump, with soft skin, and a shiver went through Keaton's body as he slipped his cock between the man's thighs. "God, that's good," he panted. "Unnhh..."

He thrust back and forth with wet sounds, and a shiver ran all through his uncle as Keaton rubbed the length of his cock against his body. "Oh, that's good," Parkinson mumbled, his eyelids fluttering. "Oh. Oh..."

"Yeah, you like that?"

"Yes, yes, I--yowch!" Parkinson nearly jumped a foot in the air as Keaton thrust upwards, prodding him directly in the ass. "Keaton, be gentle!"

"What's wrong? Can't take a joke?" Keaton snickered. He pulled back and grabbed a small bottle of lotion from his shirt pocket, then quickly lubed himself up. "Don't worry. I'm not gonna hurt you," he said pointedly. "Matter of fact, you might even beg me for more."

Keaton guided himself inside, and Parkinson gasped, steadying himself against the bookshelf as his nephew began to fuck him. They rocked together, shaking the furniture with every thrust. "P-please, not so rough," Parkinson eked out, his face flushing red. "Someone will hear!"

"Yeah? Bet you'd love it, the whole house hearing you get it from your nephew," Keaton taunted, punctuating his statement with a sharp thrust. "Take it!"

"No, no, d-don't make me!" Parkinson tried to keep his voice down as Keaton's thrusts grew stronger, harder, more erratic. "Oh god, Keaton, my boy, I'm close, so close--"

Suddenly Keaton pulled out, groaning. He reached down to pump his cock, biting back a loud, ravenous groan as he came across his uncle's soft skin. He shot a long jet of cum across his ass, then another. "Nngh, god, yeah," he panted. "Yeah..."

"Wh--" Parkinson looked at him over his shoulder, pouting. "D-don't tell me you're going to just stop there!" he complained.

Keaton gave him another awful grin. "Why not?" he said. "Can't you...hah... take a little prank?" He zipped up his jeans and turned around, walking back towards the door. "Have fun finishing yourself off, dear uncle," he said innocently. "Come find me when you want more!"

There was a click, then a creak, then a slam of the door. Uncle Parkinson blinked, sweating and red-faced, and slowly sank to the floor, alone in his study once more.

Keaton went back to his room afterwards. His sadistic afterglow gradually gave way to unease, then to dread, until he pulled out his briefcase and started packing his bags. There was no way his uncle would let things slide after the line he'd crossed. Best to leave right away and never look back.

"Keaton... are you packing?"

Keaton yelped and looked up. He'd been so engrossed that he hadn't noticed his uncle entering the room. "Uh...Uncle," he stammered. "Listen, about earlier...I should go."

"No! I mean..." Parkinson laid a hand on Keaton's, and then hurriedly withdrew it. "I should apologize, my boy. I've really put you through the wringer with my practical jokes... I may have gone a bit overboard." He glanced to the side nervously, then continued. "I... well, as an apology of sorts, I was wondering if you'd like to stay here with me, in my house."

"What?" Keaton gawked. "You want me to stay here? After what I... are you sure?"

"Of course," Parkinson said, cracking a smile. "Well... I mean..." He looked downwards sheepishly. "I did push you to the edge. And I... enjoyed what you did to me. Very, very much."

Keaton looked from his uncle to the half-filled briefcase. He blinked, then sighed. "Well... in that case..." He grinned over to the older man. "You'd better be careful how you prank me from now on."

"Oh, I'll make sure to pull out all the stops!" Parkinson tittered gleefully. "Just you wait!"

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