Date: Sat, 11 Mar 2023 06:38:57 +0000 (UTC) From: "bostontravler21@yahoo.com" Subject: Cousins in the Shed The following is a completely true story. I have not exaggerated any of the details and have only shifted the names to protect myself and my family. I would love to hear from any writers that need encouragement to write out their first times/early experience. Bostontravler21(at)yahoo(dot)com I appreciate Nifty for all they've done and I hope you will too. Donate today. Cousins in the Shed Frankie was my older cousin. He was fourteen when I was twelve but always seemed older due to his height and mustache. He had spiked jet-black hair, forrest green eyes and wore the dopest clothes. We would play video games from time-to-time but rarely had we ever hung out before he moved into the apartment complex across the street. He was the older cousin who always talked about fucking, sucking, and dick. It was strange to me at the time that he didn't mention pussy or tits nearly as much as he talked about ballsacks and cumshots. At the time, I had discovered masturbation via rubbing my stiff four-inch erection in front of my Power Ranger Poster. The rangers had their helmets off but they were still in the spandex costume so you could see Jason's perfectly packaged bulge. The first time I shot my load, I was nervous that I busted a blood vessel in my penis. I didn't know much about jerking off but the clear liquid on my hand didn't smell like pee or look like blood, so, I reasoned, I was fine. I did it again the next day, and the day after, and then, on the fourth day after shooting my first load, Frankie came over to hang out. Our parents were gone for the afternoon so the two of us spent time in the shed under the house. To be honest, it started out as an excursion to see the spooky shit under the house, but after learning it was just filled with out littlest cousin's old toys and a few tools, he just started cracking jokes about everything. "This one looks like a fat dick," Frankie said whilst holding a foam rocket, "put it in your butt." He lunged at me with a giggle, as he did the few times we wrestled, and I just laughed back and tried to hold his arm at back. His hips pushed into mine and I could feel a stiffness. The second time I jerked off, it happened because I imagined holding Frank's dick in my hand but I never thought it would actually happen. "You're making me hard," he grabbed my hips and humped, jokingly, "you must be a girl after all." "You're sick," I said, not trying my hardest to move away, "hey, hey, hey." "You're hard too," he said after touching my crotch, "man, Dave..." He backed away and sat on the little chair that was placed in the corner of the tiny shed. He unbuckled his belt and I could feel my heart beating my chest. The sound of his zipper unbuttoning made my knees weak but I couldn't let him know how badly I wanted this; after all, it could just be one giant trap to see if I am gay or not. "Come here," he pointed to his side, "look at this..." His penis was different than mine. I would learn it was different than most in the entire world; for one reason or another, the pee hole was on the bottom of the head, not in the slit. It was a lot bigger than mine, maybe six inches, at least, and fat. He stood up and pulled his pants down to his knees the moment I sat on the floor next to him. "Come on, Dave," he touched the back of my head, "pretend to be a girl and suck my dick." I couldn't do it. I was nervous it was a trap. My lips were vibrating with hunger, and dread, and after his third head nudge, I went down and put the tip of his dick in my mouth. "All the way down," he said, pushing my head down, "now move your tongue around and breath through your nose." I listened to every word the man said. His fingers smelled like cigarettes. His balls were hairy enough to itch my smooth chin. His thick cock stretched my mouth but once I started breathing through my nose, opening wide was a little easier. I moved my head around a lot but, as I remember, he told me to hold it still and suck it like a bottle. "That's it," he rested my head on his leg, "relax and suck on it." He shot his load on my face a moment-or-two later. He promised each other that we wouldn't ever mention it but a week later, we did it again, and again, and again. I never swallowed his cum but I sure did drink nearly a gallon of his precum that summer. We've parted ways since but I think back to that first time often; in fact, it's so vivid in my mind that I rattled this story off in about twenty minutes.