Date: Fri, 16 Dec 2005 20:20:11 -0800 (PST)
From: "( )" <siktici@sbcglobal.net>
Subject: Cousin Theo's Farm - Incest Category

This is a work of fiction.  If gay sex between insinuated--or
real--family members offend you, click away immediately.  This is
completely from the twisted mind of the author.

Siktici Copyright 2005


                              Cousin Theo's Farm


Would it be fair to refer to my encounter with Cousin Theo as incestuous?
Or for that matter, would it be fair to refer to him as a predator?
Further, would God consider what Cousin Theo and I did sinful?  Perhaps.

This is where the logic sins breakdown.  It becomes more complex when
lust occurs between men, or for that matter, when it occurs between men
and boys becoming men.  Who's to say that sex between men and men-boys
is sinful?  Misguidedly, the condemnation comes in the perceived
predatory act of the man rather than the man-boy.  In this case the
boy-man was the predator.

If "incest" implies the possibility of a deformed offspring as a result
of sex between two people closely related, then Cousin Theo and I were in
the clear.   Cousin Theo was my cousin in the saying (No one in my family
knew just how this came to be).  By some proclamation, he became my
fourth cousin and became my teacher in the one way that changed my life
forever; in the one way that righted my life, as if righting a skewed
portrait.

This is how it all began.

Amid the heat of my youth and amid the hottest summer of the eighties, my
father and I sped away from the polluted city of Houston toward farms
marked with mailboxes farther away them than the waistline of Houston was
from its hemline.

"It's so far away," I said wiping the sweat from my face for at least
the twentieth time.  "Does Cousin Theo stay back here by himself?"  I
asked my father, as I watched sweat slide from his hairline to a place
where his neck met his breastplate.  I loved looking at that place
because errant gray curls always disobeyed and frothed over his open
collar.  They especially disobeyed when he wore tee shirts.  I wondered
if they were as errant around his cock.

"Yeah, Ole Theo's been livin' up here all his life," Dad said and
pointed a thick finger beyond sagebrush and deadwood.  "I used to live
near here," he explained and followed with a chuckle.  "Look's so small
now," he said, still looking straight ahead and pulling at errant balls.

Had his voice cracked?  It sounded that way, but it had to be my
imagination; my dad never showed emotion.  He always referred to men who
did as "punks".  If I were around him, no matter how much I wanted to
cry, I would bite my lip until it bled.  I wanted to be tough, but I
realized being tough didn't change a boy into a man.  Cousin Theo was
going to show me what did.

As men go, my dad was big, really big:  6 feet, 6 inches, weighing 230
pounds.  And because I took after my mother (4 feet, 9 inches,
weighing about 97 pounds by the time I reached puberty), I weighed no
more than 120 pounds and reached no farther than 5 feet, 4 inches by the
time I reached the end of my seventeenth birthday.  One second after
midnight, on this the hottest of Texas summer days, I would turn
eighteen--legal, at least legal in some states.  What I lacked in mass, I
made up for in what my Mexican friends called "cajones." Around the
neighborhood or at school, it didn't matter how big a guy was. If we
was "gonna lock horns," I'd get the drop on any guy before he knew what
hit him.  Cousin Theo taught me that each time we visited him.

I liked going to the farm because I always loved seeing the farm animals,
all seeming so big back then:  big animals engaged in big fuckin'.
Cousin Theo didn't seemed big; he was big.   And when I stood between my
Dad, Cousin Theo, and my Uncle Johnny, I felt like I was in a giant
forest.  But I had grown, my Uncle Johnny had moved away, and age had
started to take away an inch or two from my Dad and Cousin Theo.

On a blazing Saturday, speeding westward with Houston growing smaller in
the rear view mirror, the wind blasting us as if in a kiln, Dad was going
to meet Cousin Theo to get his share of the money for mineral rights sold
on the farm.  It must have been a big deal because I heard my Dad talking
to my older brother about it as they both worked on our old truck.

Now on a buckling strip of asphalt, we search for two willows.  The two
willows were not only weeping but seemed to be dying alongside a rusted
mailbox, hosting wounds from postal assassins.  The box simple had
"Winger," painted in crude red letters.  Theo Winger.

"Found it," Dad said, and quickly turned our truck onto a gravelly road
that protested our arrival in large plumes of white dust.  The road
curved behind more sagging trees, choked in thickets equally exhausted.
The scene, a claustrophobic's nightmare, caused me to wipe away sweat
and pull down the neck of my tee shirt.

The thicket and sage slow cleared as the sun notched the air another ten
degrees.  We drove closer to what looked like a shack, a forgotten
shelter now battered by the elements.  A tiny figure stood in front of
the shack, but its image danced behind heat angels.  As we neared I saw
him standing just in front of the shack, hands shoved in baggy, faded
overalls strapped to him over one shoulder, his cool smile contrasting
the shimmering heat.  I could see his bulging muscles from the distance
we still had to travel.

Dad stopped the truck in a small storm of dust and swarming gnats just as
Cousin Theo stuck his upper body, hairy and heavily tanned, through the
passenger window, grabbed my shoulder with one calloused hand, and shook
Dad's with the other.

"Hey, there, Schooner, you old dog!" he said.  And with the same wide
grin of straight but nicotine-stained teeth, he turned to me, "Boy, you
growed at least three feet since I last seen ya."  Stepping back, he put
his hands on his hips, then waved us into the shack, "Come in outta this
damn heat . . . Shit, I'm burning my ass off!"

We climbed out of the truck and stretched away the long trip.  Dad and
Cousin Theo hugged, and before I could take another breath, Cousin Theo
pressed me into a bone-crushing hug that revealed more than his
excitement at our arrival.  I felt the unmistakable hardness between his
legs.  And when I looked into his sparkling gray eyes, he winked and
turned his attention to my Dad.

"You didn't waste no time getting' here, Schooner.  Damn, you must
really need this money."

"Is a pig's ass pork, Theo?"

The two men, burst into laughter, hugged again, and clapped each other on
the back as they moved into the dark coolness of the shack, its
screened-in porch the only protection from the heat and insects.  I
shielded my eyes from the sun and followed them to where my body
immediately chilled in air-conditioned darkness that smelled of stale
cigarettes and a faint hint of spunk.

"Come on to the kitchen.  I got beer iced in the tub ready to be pissed
out.  Ha!"

"Good," Dad said, and added, "I can still push a stream outta my cock
faster and farther than, you."

"In a sow's ass, Schooner."

They both laughed and talked of the many times they drove down to
Flatonia, drank themselves blind, and pissed their way back to the
lean-to that Cousin Theo and his wife Jessie called home until she died
four years ago.

We moved to the back, another screened-in part of the house, where a day
bed sagged at one end, a wobbly table hosted the center, and a large
refrigerator sat at the other.  Dad and I sat at the table while Cousin
Theo fished out three beers.  When he passed one to me, I looked at Dad
who nodded.  Cousin Theo rubbed a finger along my hand as he placed the
beer in my palm.  When he straddle a chair, he offered me another wink,
and gave a toast, "To old times, Schooner."

"Old times," my Dad said in almost reverent recollection, we all clink
bottles, and upended them.  Dad and Cousin Theo held theirs longer than I
did. I sat down my beer and looked Cousin Theo over.  I wondered briefly
if Dad noticed my constant glances, but he seemed to be more interested
in laughing it up.

By the time Cousin Theo put a third beer in front of me, he and dad had
several dead ones in front of them, and their civil discussions of
weather, politics, and memories had turned to comparisons of their cock
sizes and those of men I didn't know.  And while they spoke so freely,
they didn't stop to consider that I might find such talk embarrassing,
or in the least, arousing.  In fact, I had hid my inclinations quite
well.  Only these inclinations, my secret desires, were coming as fast as
waves before an approaching storm.

"Schooner, you remember Pretty Boy?  I'm sure that sucker had a dick
the size of a bull," Cousin Theo asked while craning his head into the
past for a clearer recollection.  "You remember how that girl...what was
her name?"

"Gladys," my Dad answered in a noticeable slur.  His head lolled in the
usual way to show his overindulgence.  "Gladys Mae Boles, she--"

"Yeah, that's it, Gladys.  I remember she opened her legs for you the
night
we--" Cousin Theo broke off at the sudden nod from my Dad toward me.

"Come on, Schooner, that boy knows what's what about gettin' pussy."

He turned to me, gave the familiar wink, but it wasn't a wink that a man
gave another when looking for agreement.  It was one of knowing,
somehow.  I lowered my eyes to its capacity.

"Naw, we ain't talked much on that," Dad said and rubbed his
day's-end stubble.

He turned to me. "You shittin' me right?"

I said nothing.  How was I supposed to answer?  Was it the time to remain
dumb to what little I did know about women? Cousin Theo reached over and
rubbed my head.  I tingled, my balls crawled into me, and my cock
stretched to mild anger.

After beer five, I began to drowse and half-heartedly listened to the
banter of the two men.  Finally I felt a shake of my shoulder and the
tickle of Cousin Theo's whiskers at my ear.  "Hit the hay, there,
yuggun," he whispered.  "Bed's right behind ya."

"Oh, hell, Schooner, he'll never make it like that."  And with that I
felt a strong hand grab into my ass and push me into the daybed.  More
raucous laughter from the two men drifted to silence as I faded to black.

"He don't know about that does he?"  Cousin Theo asked and I heard the
two men talk in the shallows of my sleep.

"I don't know," my Dad said.  "If he does, I sure as hell didn't
tell him.  `Spose he'll find out sooner or later."

"Whatcha gonna do when he does?"

"Dunno, really . . . just tell him the truth and let him decide to live
with it or not.  He's probably heard around about it, but he's never
come to me."

I could hear Cousin Theo swallow down some beer.  He breathed deeply and
pointed out, "You think he would come to you Schooner?"

 Someone sighed, but I couldn't tell who did.

"Do you think he's like us, Theo?"  My father asked in a somewhat
plaintive voice.

"Well, there's one way to find out."

"Naw, I can't do that."

"Course not; you're his pa; wouldn't be proper."

"Naw, Theo, you'd hurt him, and I couldn't stand for that."

"Schooner, better it be one of us than somebody he don't know, or
somebody that don't give a damn about him."

I heard another sigh.

"Besides, I have to tell ya, Schooner, I saw it in him when you drove
up."

"Damn."

"I had to tell ya.  You know I ain't just after him, but he's gotta
learn."

There was silence, then the clink of beers.

"Do what you have to, Theo; just go easy."

"Easy, okay, Schooner.  I'll do my best."

I thought what I heard was part of a drunk's dream, but I didn't know
drunken sleep was often dreamless.  My dad called the sleep of death.
Yet, my mom said that was the devil talking in him.  She told me those
words were from a man that wouldn't face God.  "Save your soul, Nate,
and repent," she once told me in such an earnest plea I squirmed in my
seat. "Oh, woman," my Dad said, "I'm gonna fire up a joint with God
and Jesus, and we're gonna talk about what fools all you Bible-thumpers
are."  Mom threw something harmless at him; Dad chased after her; and in
between giggles and glances my way, she told me to go play.  I had come
to understand that it was fuck time in the household.

Here away from the filthy skirt that was Houston, where predator and prey
squared off in the darkness, my shallow sleep never made it to a drunk's
sleep, even after Cousin Theo and Dad moved into Cousin Theo's bedroom.
I heard the creak of floorboards and the slight stagger of two large
men:  the first asking about the safety of his son on the back porch; the
second shushing and reassuring that there wasn't a soul around for
miles.

Dead sleep finally did come until I heard God pound a thunderous fist
into the ground.  I jerked to sitting as lightning revealed swaying trees
and blowing dust.  A gully washer was approaching.  I sat blinking away
sleep until I jumped suddenly at the silhouette pulling down the metal
coverings over the screened-in porch.  Cousin Theo, a hairy outline of
his strong and massive body staggered a bit as he moved from one covering
to the next.  I wondered if he noticed I had sat up in bed and I wondered
if he knew that my cock grew and strained at his complete nakedness. I
slowly lowered back to the bed and waited until I heard the floorboard
creak away to kitchen and on to Cousin Theo's bedroom.

As I felt the wind nudge the shack, I moved from the daybed and walked
through the kitchen until I saw a sliver of candlelight coming from a
side room.
An unmistakable groan of pleasure came from the room, but I had to
convince myself that looking in wasn't spying.  Yet, that groan came
from Dad, and my cock suddenly had to know why.  When I peeked in, I
quickly wanted to back away, but my cock held me there.  What I saw
excited and concerned me.

With each thrust my Cousin Theo's bulging muscled strained and deepened
into his sun-baked skin.  Tuffed in curls that edged his shoulders and
that patched and matted his sweaty torso seemed symmetrically divided by
a pleasure trail that ran to his pubes. Tremendous muscles sharpened to
relief with each slow stroke of his cock.

I couldn't see my Dad, but surely heard him.  Each thrust from Cousin
Theo brought louder moans and lustful cries of pleasure from Dad, and of
my dad, I could only see the vee his large legs made and his big hairy
hand furiously fisting his almost mahogany cock, topped by the plum color
of its large head.

It was a scene that should have repulsed me, but my thoughts were of
envy, of wanting to be my dad, of wanting to experience the fullness and
absence of Cousin Theo's sliding cock.

As I pulled my cock from my pants, the floorboard under my feet creaked.
Cousin Theo looked to the cracked door, winked, and continued his
assault.  He began pumping in.  "Yeah, fucker, pump that cock.  Shoot
that big fuckin' load . . . show me you can still shoot a big load . . .
pump that cock, Goddamn it."  He said the words in a whispered his, but
the aggression was clear, the commands sharp and insistent.  Each word
pushed at me, beat into my head, made me want to obey.

"Fuck!" my Dad said; guttural, husky, and aggressive.  "Oh, fuck!" he
said with a mixture of pain and yearning.  The expression of a man in the
throes of an excitation missed before it retreats.

I heard two big men encouraging each other to enjoy their encounter, and
from those words I realized that I wanted to be there with them.  I
wanted to see my Dad shoot his load, but a mixture of fear and excitement
held me to my spot.  I wanted to rush in, thrust my heels in the air, and
open my ass to both of them.

I didn't consider my thoughts lascivious, nor did I intellectualize or
demoralize what I saw as incestuous.  Were there not ground rules for
such an illegal act?  For instance, are the participants supposed to be
of the opposite sex?  Were they supposed to vary largely in age? And if
no offspring resulted in the union, where was the abomination?  The
questions came fast and furious, but lust overcame any conflict.


While I pumped my cock, and murmured desire, I watched the first volley
of cum shoot from my Dad's cock and land on Cousin Theo's belly.  The
next landed in the valley between them, and the last few drops slid over
my Dad's fist into his pubes.

Not shortly after, Cousin Theo pulled out his large cock and shot ropey
foam along my Dad's torso, as he squeezed his eyes shut and shook his
head against the sensation.  The profanity mixed with whimpers of sheer
pleasure caused him to buck and hump the air as his spunk flew all over
my Dad and the bed.  Then he fell to beside my Dad where they both slowed
their breathing in silence and satisfaction.

As the first spurt of cum hit the wall, I squeak out my own pleasure,
surely heard by both men, but they remained silent.  More cum splashed
the wall as I pumped my cock and fought for balance.  I stood a bit
wobbly as the last dribbles slid over my knuckles to a spot on the floor
between my socked feet.  I walked a little unsteady to the living room as
more boards creak under my feet.  A mixture of embarrassment and arousal
fought in me, where I lay on the lumpy sofa to catch my breath and fall
into instant sleep.

I woke to the smell of coffee and bacon.  A washcloth with a note lay on
my stomach.  "The job isn't done until the paperwork is," it read. My
stomach rumbled as I sat blinking to reality.  My Dad sat reading the
paper opposite where I lay.  When I looked over to him, he lowered the
paper, looked into my eyes, and smiled.

"How'd you sleep?" he asked.

I continued to blink away sleep but didn't answer.

"Theo's got breakfast going, but you got a job to do before you wash
up," and gave me Cousin Theo's signature wink.  He put the paper away,
and I could see he was naked.  His thick cock flopped down like an
elephant's trunk as he rose to walk toward the kitchen, but he turned
back.  "We have some talkin' to do, son," he said.

I nodded, and he continued to the kitchen.

We ate in silence, and I only made eye contact with my dad or Cousin Theo
when they wanted something passed to them.  While they talk about the
recent deaths and changes in property ownership, my mind drifted back to
the hot scene between the two big hairy men on either side me.

Cousin Theo rose to clear the table and I immediately saw his cock swung
heavily above his low-hanging, hairy balls that resembled plump kiwis.

I cleaned up my cum that had slid down the wall and crusted in a small
puddle on the floor.  Cousin Theo had sidled up and added, "Next time
ask for a rag; I got plenty of them for a good jack," he said and headed
into his bedroom.

"Schooner," he yelled from the room, "why don't you take the boy for
a walk back in the woods by the water hole.  Check to see if my old cows
are still back there.  The storm probably spooked them.  Gotta get `em
milked before they go bellin' somethin' awful."

Dad moved into Cousin Theo's room and returned in overalls, one strap
over his hairy shoulder.  I shucked on jeans, the same tee, and sneakers
without socks.

"Better put on some socks, boy.  Those mosquitos''ll eat you ass alive
back there.  Besides, I don't want have to dig no ticks outta ya when we
get back."

Moving through rain-burdened trees and foliage, I jerked at every wet
sensation.  My Dad walked on, a big cigar chomped between his teeth, deep
in thought.  We walked in silence, except for the call of birds and a few
insects.

Finally he broke the silence, "So, what do you think about last night?"

I didn't answer for a long time; I didn't know what to say.

He asked half-heartedly, "I guess you think less of your old man,
huh?"    And I thought, in the question, I heard a little fear, mixed
with embarrassment.

Still I didn't answer.

"Son, I know you heard what went on lastnight, and I just want to know
what you think on it."

"I don't think anything, Dad," I finally said.

"Well from the mark you made by the door, I'd say you liked it a
might."

I gave silence.

"Well?"

"Yeah, I guess I liked it some."  I didn't want to admit that I like
it a lot, but I'm sure he already knew that.

"It's just somethin' your cousin and I do when we get together.  Hell,
we been doin' it for years.  But the thing is your mother don't know
about it.  So, I need you to keep it between us.  Can you do that for
me?"  He stopped at the question.

Finally I looked in his eyes.  It was the first time I saw worry in them;
I never thought my dad worried about anything.

"I understand, Dad.  I keep good secrets."

"There's somethin' else, though, we need to talk over," he said
pushing an invisible divot into the soggy ground.

I looked up into the same gray eyes I saw in Cousin Theo, but these were
eyes of concern, eyes of uncertainty.

"Maybe I can help you out, Dad," I said.  "Yeah, I saw you and Cousin
Theo last night, and I wanted to be right beside you, getting' what you
got."

His eyes widen and a slow but nervous smiled shaped his mouth.

"You mean, you want to try what you saw me and Theo doin'?"

"No, Dad," I said, and as I continued I could feel the tremble begin in
my belly and find its way to my lips.  "I have done a little of what you
and Cousin Theo did last night."

Dad took a step back as if pushed.

"I didn't know how to tell you, I said, "but I feel relieved that I
don't have worry about it anymore."

"How long...I mean...when did you..."

I've been having feelings like that ever since I played around with
Bennie and Rip.  They grew out of it, I guess, but I never did."

"Why didn't you come to me about this?"

I looked at him in a way that prompted his response, "Stupid question, I
guess.  I understand that it's not somethin' a son goes to his pa to
talk about."

We continued to walk in silence until I broke with an admission,  "I've
only sucked them off, but I've never done what I saw you and Cousin Theo
doin' . . . I mean . . . doesn't it hurt?"

Dad put an arm around my shoulder and pulled me to him before saying,
"Not if it's done the right way and not if you trust the person doin'
it to ya'."

This time I stopped and looked up into my dad's eyes.

"I know what you're about to ask and the answer is no."

"But who could I trust more than my own dad?"

"That's not it, son; I just wouldn't feel right being your pa and
all.  You'll have to find someone else to go through that with."

"You think maybe--"

"Maybe you should ask Theo," Dad said.

We both smiled and walked to where the cows huddled under a drippy tree.

Dad showed me how to herd the cows back to the barn in the growing
humidity and unrelenting sun.  By the time we got them back in their pen,
we were both soaked with sweat.  Cousin Theo had driven to nearby
Flatonia for provisions and had set out Flatonia's world-famous
sausages, crackers, cheese, and beer for lunch.  He lay stretched out on
the daybed, naked, chasing a mouthful with a large swig of beer.

"Took you city-boys long enough to get them cows back up here," he said
chewing away the last of his meal as he stood in the back door, "but I
bet you had a lot to talk over.  What say you go to the barn and get
outta those sweat rags, and hose that cowshit off ya."

"Why?" Dad asked.  "You the funkiest man on God's green Earth!"

"Hell if I am, Cousin Theo said as he moved to a rusty old pump.  "All
kinda animals fall dead when your ass walk pass, you old billy goat!"
Cousin Theo said, shook from flat-out laughter, and began priming the
pump to give up its sweet coolness.

Dad and I went into the barn and shucked off our mud-cover clothes.
Again, I saw his trunk of a cock and turned away.  "Don't do that," he
said.  "A man's body is nothing to be shy about.  Look at me.  He stood
with legs apart and outstretched hands.  "We are what God made us;
there's no shame in it."  He turned on the hose.  "Now stand like a
man and let God's water refresh you." He sprayed me until I chilled
from the cool water, and then gave the hose to me, stood as he had before
as I sprayed him.  When my chilled fell away, my dick grew hard and
flapped up to my stomach.  I noticed his had too.  "I see what you want,
son.  Just be patient," he said looking at my raging hard-on and
absently stroking his own."

"Now," Cousin Theo said, "you look like men should."  I didn't quite
understand but his smiled warmed me along with the sun.  He threw me a
large dingy towel and slapped playfully at my dad before giving one to
him.  I couldn't get over the genuine regard the two men had for each
other, but having witness the night before, that genuine regard probably
ran as deep as the well that pressured up the coolest and sweetest water
I ever tasted.

I paid no attention to what the two men were saying as they wondered away
from the well where I pressured the pump for more cool water, yet I had
notice the laughing and swearing had lowered to whispers.

They went into the house and Dad brought back a pair of large overalls
and tossed them to me.  He had put on jeans and a tee.  "I'm goin' in
to Flatonia to visit with Old Jess Hagen.  I haven't seen that old
rascal in ages," Dad said and looked at the relentless sun with shielded
eyes.  "It's getting' pretty hot now.  Wait here for ya' cousin;
he's got a few more chores for ya, and then you'll have lunch.  I
should be back around dinnertime."  He said the latter over his shoulder
as he walked to the front of the shack, where I heard him enter the truck
moved down the hill.

Cousin Theo came from the house and walked to its side.  "Here," he
said returning with a large cans of mushy leftovers in each hand.  His,
stern expression and frank speech contrasted the cheerful conduct offered
to me when we first arrived. "Go slop the hogs as soon as you can," he
said and looked at the sun in the same way my dad had.  "The heat's
building. Get inside before it gets too bad."  Then he returned to
house.

I poured the slop in the hog trough and leaned on the wooden pen as sweat
began sticking the baggy overalls to my body.  I trembled with
anticipation, but anticipation of what?  Dad or Cousin Theo had declared
nothing about giving me the same experience they had had the night
before.  And as I resigned myself to just having lunch with a now
reticent Cousin Theo, he called out, "Get the lead oucha ass, boy!"  I
detected aggression in the command and grew hard immediately.

When I opened the door to the house, Cousin Theo said, "Leave ya
overalls in the barn and hose down again,' and threw another dingy towel
into my face.  As I walked away, my anger growing along with my hard-on,
I heard behind me, "And hang the towels on the cow pens."

I said nothing.

I pushed down the sweaty overalls, wiped my face, and washed down again
until the chill dissolved my anger and hard-on.  I trudged back to the
house and diffused in its coolness.  Cousin Theo had a placed a saucer
stacked with two ham and cheese sandwiches besides two bottles of beer.
Alone, I ate greedily, satisfyingly, and sat back to relax in the
coolness.  Dozing in my comfort, I woke to the warmth of a hand on my
shoulder; and when my eyes focused, my breath caught in my throat.

I looked up to find Cousin Theo clothed in rawhide:  rawhide vest and
rawhide chaps.  He winked.  My skin rippled, my cock grew, and my ass
requested.

"I know," he said, and extended his hand.  I put my hand in his and
followed.  No more words were passed between us.

We entered the coolness of the bedroom.  He sat on the bed and pulled me
to his purple rage of lust.  I suckled as if just removed from my
mother's womb.  I suckled with delicacy, with appreciation, and with
respect.

"Harder," he said and craned his head to the ceiling.

I quenched my thirst, a thirst that accompanies lust, a lust of a
thousand nights.  I had what I wanted and all the emotions associated
with getting what I had longed for rushed into me and gathered in my
mouth.  I became his milking machine, a relentless tentacle.  "No,
teeth," he said without looking down.

I hugged my tongue around his hard cock on the down stroke and pressed my
lips around his throbbing meat on the way up.  He moaned approval and
rubbed his hand over my buzzed head.  I continued to work on his cock
until my jaw ached, but the delight in finally getting my body close to
his, my hands rubbing over the hairiness that cover his muscular, tanned
body, inspired me to give all I had to please him.

Through drowsy eyes, he said, "You know how to give good head," as if
speaking to an absent person in the room.  I smiled inwardly and
increased the pressure around his cock with my tongue.  "Mmmm, that's
it."  Before this time, when I heard a man make such comments, in the
little straight porn I sat through with my older brother, I wondered if
the remarks were sincere.  Or were the remarks as hollow as they
sounded.  In didn't matter, really.  The remarks my Cousin Theo made
encouraged me, pulled from me the need to please.  At once I knew that it
was my station--to please.  I knew from that moment on I would endeavor
to please every man who involved me in his most vulnerable moment.

Gently, he pushed me back, and winked.  "You tryin' to make of Theo
blow before he can show you what men do?"  Wagging an index finger at
me, He reached under my arms and pulled me to beside him to give me the
deepest and most passionate kiss I'd ever experience.  But then I had to
remember that I had never kissed a man.  Cousin Theo's kiss would be the
standard from which every kiss in the future would be measured.

Pushing me to standing, he raised a booted foot.  Take it off.  I
straddled his leg and face away (it seemed the natural thing to do) and
pulled at the stubborn boot while Cousin Theo place his other foot on my
ass to counter my effort.  I held on to his bare foot and fought back to
sensation to lower my head to it and caress it against my face (it seemed
the natural thing to do).  I removed the other and stood straddling his
still outstretched leg.

"Good, you don't move `til I tell you to.  You're gonna kill `em boy
when they get hold of you.  You're gonna keepin' comin' back for
more."  It would be much later in my life before really understood
Cousin Theo's prophesy.

He lowered his foot and turned me to face him.  Suddenly my naked body
felt chilled but this time it wasn't from the temperature of the room.
After sitting me beside him and taking my breath away with passionate
kisses, he placed a flattened hand to my chest and pushed me to lying on
my back.  "Now it's my turn," he said with a mixture of delight and
tenderness.  His large hands rubbed my smooth body into relaxation.  And
at that moment, the music playing on his old clock radio came in such a
relaxing and hypnotic tone.  Glenn Campbell sang "Wichita Lineman amid
haunting orchestral beauty. It sad words, the loneliness in the singer's
voice almost made me cry as the song pulled from me my loneliness of the
dusty seventies.  Now it played, low but invasive.  It pushed enough to
move me to a place I scarcely recognized.
Cousin Theo saw the sadness in my eyes and lay beside me to listen at the
plaintive notes that relaxed us into synchronized breathing.  We seem to
float on the mournful strings and drift with the unusual answer of the
guitar.  It seem the song had brought for me all that Cousin Theo needed
to turn me from boy to man.

When the song ended, he shut off the radio and got up to bring in an old
record player.  From a case beside the dressing table, he pulled an album
with a smiling face of Glenn Campbell from it dusty shelf.  "There are
moments a man should always remember; music helps in the remembering" he
said.  "I want you to hear this song and remember this moment until you
die.  It will make you smile when times get rough."  And he let the song
play over and over as we moved toward the inevitable.

"No need for tears, boy," he said and turned the music up before
pulling on top of him to rub our cocks together, to rub my back, and to
cradle my head into his the hairy mounds of his chest.  The tears still
flowed from the plaintive strings and answering guitar that plucked at my
heartstrings.

"After today, you'll never cry at that song again, `cept from
remembering a good time in your life.  I promise you that."  Then he
kissed me with the intensity of a man wanting to make me forget my
sadness.  We kissed as the song played again and again.  And each time it
played, the strings and strange but beautiful sounds relaxed my body at
the same time it hardened my cock.

Cousin Theo rose to position his head over my cock and slipped his wet
and warm mouth around its twitching head.  I moan as I heard my dad had
the night before.  Such tenderness brought more tears from me.  "Those
tears are okay, boy; let them flow, get rid of the guilt and let in the
wonder that mansex can give you.  Let in the comfort and safety that
mansex promises."

I had never heard a man say such words, in such a way. The intensity of
Cousin Theo's sucking and the heat from our touching bodies burst colors
of lust and rising hunger in my loins.  I was going to come until Cousin
Theo stopped.  "Stay right there," he said and lean over to one of twin
nightstands that squared his bed.  He brought out a small plug, a can of
grease, and a condom.  "Now it's time to put things right.  Now its
time to take away the sadness from your heart."

He stretched the condom over the small plug and slowly eased it into my
greased ass.  The pain intensified as he continued with steady and slow
pressure.  As he did this, I watched his magnificent manhood, flopp up to
his belly and ooze precum down the thick shaft.  "Now we see how long
you can keep that plug in.  The longer, the better.  It stings a first
but if you breathed slowly and relax you ass.  You'll start to feel the
pain go away." Holding the plug in me took all the concentration I had,
but I wanted to please Cousin Theo.  So I bit away the pain, looked at
the large throbbing horn that was his cock and relaxed in pleasure as I
felt myself ass slowly relax.

Cousin Theo lay beside me and raised my legs to rub the growing hair
thickest around the crack of my ass and on my thighs.  "Such a nice
body," he said with admiring eyes, "an ass just needing to be fucked,
boy.  There's nothing like it.   He words went straight to my ass as I
felt the pain dissolve and float away behind me.

He passed me a beer and I sat up with surprising ease.  He sat crossed
legged and talked about times when he had his first experience.  I said
that a man had given him the same experience he was giving me.  He said
that it was almost a duty to make a man's first time a good one.  The
first time is always the one most remembered," he said.

"I think you had that plug in long enough; don't want to make that
boy-pussy too sore before I can give you a good fuckin'," he said.  And
I don't know if naturalness of his words or the matter of fact way he
presented the special event made the biggest impression on me.  I just
know that I seemed to trust that he wouldn't harm me, and that made all
the difference.

Slowly, he removed the plug and massaged my ass to the point that it
maintained a small opening.  I watched as he loving rubbed my pink pucker
into the most relaxed state I'd ever felt.  The pain I felt earlier was
a memory.

And when he was satisfied that I was ready for his advances, hee pushed
my legs into the same vee I'd seen my dad form the night Cousin Theo
pushed into him.  He grabbed a generous dollop of greased and gently
greased up my uncontrollable pink pucker, and then rubbed a thick finger
over the folds, while alternately poking a finger into my hole.

Holding my legs, he moved between me and placed bent my legs to where my
knees met my chest.  Scooting farther between my legs he leaned forward
his hazel eyes never leaving mind and said,  "Deep breath, and exhale
when I say, okay?"  The commands weren't those coming from a man
performing a cursory task; it was the movements of a man ensuring that
the experience I would come away with would last me the rest of my life.

First the contact of his cockhead to my virgin hole pressured to burning
and I squirmed away from his advance.  "Relax boy, and be still, now.
Do what I tell you:  breathed.  Big exhale."  And as soon as I emptied
my lungs with as much air as they could release, he pushed forward and
the pain quickly passed to immense pleasure.  [I saw stars burst behind
my tightly shut lids, my ears stopped up, and my mouth went suddenly
dry.  Yet, through all of this, I wanted him to push farther in me, to
fill me up.  I reached for him, but he pushed my hand away. "Simmer
down, now...let's go easy . . .easy is best," he said as he continued
the slow, pressured advance.  I filled up to exploding, exhaled without
being told, and his cock slipped into me with an ease I didn't expect.
I wanted him out . . . no I wanted him in . . . no out . . . out . . . in
. . .no . . . I wanted him . . .

Slowly he began to withdraw only to push forward again, and with each
withdrawal and advance, I found myself mouthing the same entreats that
I'd heard my dad say the night before.  Only mine were whimpers of pain,
of pleasure-pain, of good pain that forces the mind to ask for more, but
that forces the body to brace against imminent danger.  Danger didn't
come; but pleasure remained.

Then I did what I'd saw my father do.  I grabbed my cock and stroked it
with the fury of the anxious.  Cousin Theo caught my hand, "Slow down,
boy, stroke as if you are petting it.  Stroke it with softness like it's
made of cotton."  And as I did, the fire that had ring my hole moved to
a deep well of awesome desire.  My eyes drowse in it, my ass relaxed to
it, and I found myself meeting Cousin Theo's advance with my own.  Our
motion synched into rhythmic pleasure that increased faster, increased
with purpose, and increased with mutual objective.  We were now slapping
into each other with such force that farts of air rushed from our union
and sweat added to the loud "smack" of our contact.

We were both sounding out our pleasure.  I had taken all of Cousin Theo
had to offer, and when he was satisfied that no danger had come to me, he
turned up the pummeling a notch.  Then after a few deep strokes, the kind
that rub along the prostate, my cum flew from my fisted cock and
splattered Cousin Theo's chest, strafed my knees and thighs with errant
sticky ropes finding their way into my hair and my across my forehead.

Suddenly Cousin Theo arched his back, slide from me with silky speed as I
continue to let the waves of my orgasm contort my body in ways inhuman.
He pulled away the condom and sprayed come over my stomach, across my
face, and into my mouth.  I lapped at the heavy swath the dribbled into
my mouth as he continued to buck and pitch out the last of his explosive
orgasm.

He fell onto of me with all his weight, and at first I didn't feel that
impact but as our breathing slowed I began to feel the discomfort of his
mass and pushed him to lying beside me.  We continued to breath to
normalcy in wordless bliss, in wordless shame (in my mind).  But as he
rose to one elbow, he said,  "Now you're a Winger, branded with the
mark few men have."

We lay a little longer in silence before I asked, "How did you know I
wanted you this way, Cousin Theo?"

"I saw it in your eyes, boy; they are the windows to the soul."

I thought about that and looked at him with the same truth I had when I
arrived.  He looked back but didn't add a signature wink.  "Now you're
a man, but not in the way women will be comin' to you.  You'll have
think on that; how to handle it, I mean."

He was slowly easing to practical talk, slowly moving back to reality.
But I reached for his half-interested cock, and he pushed away my hand.
"We ain't ready for round two yet," he said and cocked his ear toward
the window.  Besides, you pa's back and he's gonna wanna know what's
been going on."

I pleaded with eyes.

"No," he said rising to wipe away our desires.  "You'll have to tell
him yourself.  Remember, the eyes are the windows to the soul.  Your
pa'll take one look at you and see what's done happened."

He patted my belly to move me to sitting and told me to go wash up in the
bathroom.  "I'm off to the barn.  Tell Schooner I'll be in the
directly," he said as he heard the truck's motor cut off and footsteps
head for the house.

Comments welcomed