Date: Sun, 12 Apr 2020 22:14:54 -0700 From: Dee Em Subject: Cousins Reconnected Part 1 GENERAL DISCLAIMER: This story contains explicit descriptions of gay sex. If you find material of this nature offensive or if it is not legal for you to view it (e.g., 18 in the US, 16 in the UK) then do not read any further. This is a work of fiction; any similarities to persons living or dead, or to actual events, is coincidental. There is occasional mention of childhood exploration between children only, but the story focuses on a relationship between two adults. The author claims all copyrights in this story and no duplication or publication of this story is allowed (except by the websites to which it has been posted) without the consent of the author. Nifty does not exist without donations. If you enjoy these stories, please donate here: http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html CONTACT: This is my first submission; this is the setup to a story with at least a few parts. I'd love feedback, reactions, or other friendly correspondence. My email is myniftyinbox@gmail.com. -- Cousins Reconnect, Part 1 I was pretty young when I knew I liked men. Maybe six or so. Well, at that age we were boys. And you know how boys are. Out in the field, or behind the garage, pants around the ankles, comparing our little dicklets. Seeing what our buddies looked like. Felt like. Tasted like. It was just what us boys did. For me, it was the boy next door, and the boy across the street, and a friend from school, and a cousin two years older than me. If we were alone in any combination of our group and there was a good spot for it, we'd play doctor until we heard someone coming or it got too dark. As we got older, everybody stopped wanting to play. If I suggested that we do like we used to, they'd say "no" or "that's gross" or "we can't do that anymore." So we'd play video games or ride bikes and pretend like all that stuff before had never happened. For the other boys, I guess, that curiosity faded as puberty came and suddenly girls moved from icky to irresistible. But not for me. I remember the first time I made cum. I had taken the long way home from middle school and found a thicket of tall grass to hide in. I took my pants off and set in on the usual--fast, light strokes on the head. When I came, thin and watery and barely a thimbleful, I wondered if this was happening to the other guys. If their dicks had gotten bigger. If their cum tasted like mine did. I grew up in a conservative community, and by the time I was making cum, I was smart enough to realize that no matter how curious I was, I needed to keep questions about other boys to myself. So I did the safer thing and I dated girls. I almost married one too, but instead of making that mistake I moved away to go to college and explore the world. Once I was out of my hometown, I did plenty of exploring--but those stories are for another time. Just after I graduated, I went back home for a while to figure out what was next. While I was there, I reconnected with a lot of my old friends, most of whom were married and raising kids by then. We'd have some beers, I'd charm their wives and hold their babies, then I'd head to the bars, usually alone. One night, though, as I was nursing my second beer and half-watching a football game, I felt a hand on my shoulder. "Where the fuck you been?" came a familiar voice. I turned to see my cousin Jack towering over me. I hadn't seen Jack in a couple years--I skipped a few holidays and he was always off on some job site or other. He had clearly just come from work--he was dressed in heavy boots, jeans, and a hoodie, the unofficial uniform of the lumber mill. I could smell the sawdust on him. "Nowhere interesting," I laughed, getting up from my barstool to give him a hug. I had always liked Jack best of my extended family. He was smart, easygoing, and unpretentious. I also always thought he was extremely handsome, though I kept that opinion to myself. Jack was at least a hand taller than my 6-foot frame, lean and taut like a basketball player. I watched an easy smile spread across his face and couldn't resist returning it. Though there was some dirt smudging his strong, stubbled jaw and high cheekbones, his bright-white teeth made his blue eyes sparkle. "How long you been in town?" Jack asked, sliding onto the stool next to mine. "About a week," I said. "I'm crashing at my folks' house for a while." "Fuck that's sad, " he said, shaking his head. "Did college not teach you how to get your own place?" I shoved him, laughing. "Fuck you, man. I'm just taking a few weeks to figure out where I'm off to next." The bartender came around and we got some beers and caught up. Jack asked about school and I asked about his work--we were different in our interests but similar in our tendency to wander a bit. We shot the shit about our families, talked a little sports, and just as we were starting to talk a little politics, the bartender noticed our empty glasses. "Nah," Jack said to the offer of another round, "I gotta drive home." "Aw, come on, man," I said, "just one more." "Too expensive," he said. "Why don't you come back to my place? I've got plenty of beer that I already bought." "You're on," I grinned, dropping a tip on the bar and grabbing my coat from by the door. It turned out that Jack didn't live too far from my old middle school, just on the outside of town where the trees began to thicken into woods. His house was a small two-bedroom that he bought for a song to renovate and resell. The living room had a TV and a beat-up couch; where the dining area would be was Jack's bed and a small dresser. "Redoing the floors in the bedrooms," he explained, pulling his sweater off and revealing a taut stomach covered in a thick treasure trail that disappeared behind his belt. "Make yourself comfortable." I flopped down on the couch as Jack grabbed us beers from the fridge. "I fucking stink, man, is it cool if I take a quick shower?" "Sure thing, man," I said, turning the TV on and putting my feet up on the milk crates that were his coffee table. "Cool, I'll be quick." I tried not to notice that Jack left the door to the bathroom cracked, or that I could see his bare shoulders, broad and sinewy, in the mirror. He hummed while he showered, which made me smile. But he's your cousin, I though to myself, and what you did as kids was just harmless exploration. This was different. Soon Jack was out of the bathroom, still wet, wrapped in a threadbare towel. My whole body tensed in the instant I looked at him, tall and tan, his brown hair tousled, the dusting of hair on his chest and legs glistening with water. He was fucking hot. I fixed my head forward on the TV, resisting the urge to turn and watch as he dropped his towel and pulled on clean boxers and a muscle tee from his dresser. The tension broke when he sat down next to me and opened his beer. We picked up the conversation where we left it, moving from politics to money to where we were at in our five-year plans. We drank heavily, and as we did our subject matter got both deeper and more irreverent. We talked about our families, and our childhoods. Jack said "I miss those summers we'd hang out around your house," which was probably an innocent comment, but I was loaded at this point and he was in his underwear, and before I could think about it I said "you mean when we'd all go out to the field and suck each others' dicks?" The second after I said it my stomach lurched. Jack's face was distant for a while, either lost in a memory or freaked the fuck out. But then he smiled, and laughed a little. "Man, we were ridiculous." I laughed too, harder than Jack, releasing the nervous tension that nearly made me vomit a second before. "No shit," I said, and he laughed harder too as he went to get us more beer. But instead of beer he had whiskey and two coffee mugs. Pouring us each a little, he said "what the fuck were we thinking?" Still laughing, smiling. "Can you imagine if we'd gotten caught?" "We'd have gotten our asses beat," I replied, sipping a bit of the whiskey and wincing a little at the burn. Laughing. "Or they'd have sent us to one of those conversion camps," Jack said, laughing even harder. "With all the other dick-sucking little boys?" We were crying with laughter now, lost completely to the revelry. "Now that's a party," Jack said, clinking his mug against mine. We were quiet for a minute, wiping away tears and catching our breath. Jack poured a little more whiskey and I couldn't resist asking a question I'd had ever since I was a little kid. "Do you ever feel bad about what we did?" Jack was quiet for a long time. I tried not to look too long at him, both to give him some time to think and to control myself. With as much as we'd had to drink, I was struggling with an intense and growing desire to climb on top of him. "Not really," he finally answered. "We were kids. I mean, all the shit about it being a sin fucked me up for a little while, but now I know that's just what kids do." "Totally," I said, relieved. "The only thing I felt bad about was that we're cousins, and I'm older than you. I always wondered if you felt like I made you do it," Jack said. "Not at all," I replied quickly. "Maybe I did the first time because you said we should, but I liked it. I always liked it. I was sad when we stopped." I regretted saying that instantly, but my drunk brain couldn't slow me down quick enough. I wasn't sure what word to use for myself--gay? bi? pansexual?--but I knew I was definitely into dudes, and I hadn't really told anybody in my family that yet. "Yeah?" Jack said, turning toward me. "What made us quit anyway? Did we get caught or something?" "I dunno," I said, eager to change the subject. "Guess we just outgrew it." "Maybe. Did we, though?" Jack said. I could feel his eyes on me. Was I blushing? Damn, I was drunk. "Have you ever? Y'know, as an adult." "Have you?" I asked, way more defensively than I meant to. "Nah, man. But you know how it is." Jack drained his mug of the last of its contents and set it down on the milk crate. "It's a small town. Everybody talks too much, and there's too many homophobes here. So I stick to women and mind my business. I'm guessing college was a little different?" "A bit." I swallowed hard, my mouth suddenly dry and sticky. Jack smiled, his eyes twinkling again. "I always admired that about you. You always go and do what you want. So, are you gay?" "No, I like girls too. Just depends on who's around and what I'm in the mood for." "A good motto," he laughed, stretching his arms back over his head and opening his hips a little. I couldn't stop myself from looking; was that just his boxers or did I see his dick moving? This time, Jack definitely noticed. He didn't frown exactly, but his smile faltered and his expression became less readable. "I--uh, I gotta piss," he said, getting up and moving toward the bathroom. He left the door open as he pissed--a major fetish of mine, listening to guys piss--and I tried to redirect my thoughts. Jack came back out to the living room, but he didn't sit back down. He seemed... skittish, almost. "So uh, we're both too drunk to drive, right?" "Yeah," I said, trying to sound chill. I made him uncomfortable and now he was making me leave. "I can call an Uber and get my car tomorrow. There are Ubers here, right?" "Oh, yeah, if you want." Jack was awkward too, scratching his head. After I got my phone out of my pocket, he added, "you can crash here too, though." At first I didn't respond, focusing instead on putting his address into the app. When I saw the cost of a ride home, though, I looked up at him. "Fuck, an Uber is expensive. Are you sure it would be ok for me to crash here?" "Totally," Jack said. Was he relieved? I couldn't read him. "Cool, thanks man," I said. "I gotta piss now too." I sidled past him, between the milk crates and the TV, and ducked into the bathroom. I almost closed the door, but then I worried that would make him feel like I was hiding, so I just left it alone as a took a long, loud piss and tried to calm down. I splashed a little water on my face and took a minute to look in the mirror. My eyes weren't glassy yet, so if we wanted to keep drinking I could do that, but it was nearly 2am; maybe it would be better to go to bed? When I went back out into the living room, Jack stood up awkwardly. "So, you wanna sleep on the couch?" "Sure," I said, confused by his behavior. "Oh, ok, of course," he stammered. He moved toward his bed, picked up a pillow, and then put it back down. Then he sighed heavily, picked the bottle of whiskey up from the milk crates and took a quick pull. "You could also sleep in the bed if you wanted. There's room." My heart started pounding so loud he must have heard it. What was wrong with him? What was wrong with me? "It's ok, man, the couch is fine." "Fuck," Jack said. Another quick pull from the bottle. "I'm trying to ask you to sleep with me. I'm sorry, I fucked this up, and it's wrong anyway. We're cousins." "Oh." I said. "Oh, shit." "I know, I just thought... all that stuff you were saying about when we were kids... I misunderstood, just forget about it." "No, it's ok," I said. "I thought I made you uncomfortable." Jack laughed, breaking the tension. "Nah, man. You're not the only one who was sad when we stopped. I guess I was afraid we'd get caught or that it was wrong or something." "Wait, so you wanna...?" I didn't even know what word to use. My mind couldn't catch up. As a response, Jack pulled his shirt up over his head and threw it near a hamper in the corner. I took a longer look this time. His body was impossibly long and all lean, toned muscle. Between his broad, taut pecs there was a small tuft of brown, wispy hair. Lower, his flat stomach was covered in hair that thickened toward the middle, obscuring the skin between his navel and the waistband of his boxer shorts. "I've never done this, y'know, for real," he said. "You'll have to show me what to do."