Date: Thu, 9 Aug 2018 07:57:35 -0400
From: bottomtheweaver34@gmail.com
Subject: Cousin Chris Shows Me The Way - Part 1

Cousin Chris Shows Me The Way

by BottomTheWeaver

(This is my first attempt at erotic fiction. After several years of reading
and getting off on the stories of this website I finally figured it was
time to see if I could write my own. If you like it, or have tips or
suggestions feel free to email me at BottomTheWeaver34@gmail.com.

This is a story about a 16 year old male and his 18 year old cousin. As the
story progresses more people might get involved. Sexy things happen. If
this kind of stuff is illegal to read where you are because of your age or
location, or if this kind of stuff offends you, then go elsewhere.

Also note, the story takes a little while to get going. The first part is
really laying the groundwork for future entries. For me the build up and
anticipation is half the journey

This story is released under creative commons. I hope it gets you going.)

Part 1 –

When my mom first told me my cousin Chris was coming to stay with us for a
month I wasn't thrilled. It wasn't that I didn't like him. I hardly knew
him. The last time I'd seen him had been five years ago. I had been eleven,
he'd been thirteen.  It was at a large family reunion at my grandparent's
farm out in Vermont. There were a lot of cousins on that side of the family
and he was older, and he played sports, and he hung out with the older male
cousins while I stayed inside and did crafts with my Aunt Kathy. He seemed
like he belonged to this other world of male bro-culture that I never felt
a part of. He was also cute as hell and even now at sixteen I was trying
desperately to curb those feelings I had towards other guys.  I wasn't out
at all, barely even to myself. The prospect of spending over a month with a
cousin I barely knew, couldn't relate to, and would probably drive me
sexually up a wall seemed unbearable.

"He's a nice kid and you're going to have fun together," my mom said over
the dinner table. It was late May and I'd just found out he'd be arriving
in two weeks.

"Where's he going to sleep?" I asked. My mom worked at the local college as
a professor. It was just the two of us, with my parents getting divorced
when I was seven. My dad lived in Boston, so I only got a chance to see him
once or twice a year. We lived in a small two-bedroom house in Fort
Collins, Colorado. I didn't see how we could host another teenager for over
a month.

"The couch is a pull out, and if you don't mind freeing some closet space,
he can share a dresser with you."

The sudden thought of his sweaty jock clothes sharing a space with mine,
the thought that he might change in my room, that I might see him naked
struck me.  My chest went tight and blood rushed to my cock. I didn't even
know what he looked like now, hadn't seen him in years, but my face was
suddenly beet red.

My mom leaned over the counter and kissed me on the head. "It's going to be
fine. He's taking a year off to explore the country before going to school
and he wanted to reconnect with family. Plus, I think it'd be nice for you
to have some male companionship, don't you think?"

I rolled my eyes. I did have some guy friends. They just all happened to be
like me: geeks. I was on the chess club and did speech and debate. I didn't
even know how to talk to guys like Peter. "I guess..." I mumbled as I
fiddled with my lasagna. This was going to be an awful summer. I just knew
it.

Later that night in my bedroom I looked up Chris on my phone. I was
surprised we weren't Friends on Facebook already, but I wasn't really that
into social media and it had been five years since that summer in
Vermont. I started combing through his Facebook pictures.

Jesus. If I thought he was cute when we were boys, he was a god-damned
heartthrob at 18. His body was solidly defined. In shirtless pictures of
him with friends at the beach his skin had this tan glow that made me
jealous, having pale skin myself from being both a ginger and spending most
of my time indoors. He had a beautiful easy smile. His jet-black hair stood
in contrast to my carrot top red. I found myself overwhelmed with feelings
of both lust and envy.

I continued scrolling down. Photos of him doing track. Photos of him at the
gym.  Photos at some kind of party. Photos of him smiling. Photos of his
arm around the waste of... wait, a guy? I scrolled back. They must just be
friends, I thought. I scrolled back up to the beach photos. There were more
with him and just the guy, a younger skinnier boy but still a hell of a lot
buffer than I was. Could he be...?

My dick tented the top of my boxers thinking about the possibility. Aside
from the high school music teacher and couple of my mom's older university
friends I'd never actually met or had a conversation with a gay guy. I'd
spent a lot of time trying not think about gay things in general, because I
guess I feared that thinking about them might turn me closer and closer to
being gay myself. Whenever I saw movies of tv shows about gay life or
culture it seemed so foreign so far away from Northern Colorado and my
nerdy life of crossword puzzles and board games as to be pointless. But now
this cousin, this hot male cousin who was maybe gay was going to come live
with me.

I slipped my hand through the slit of my boxers and started to slowly milk
myself.  My mom's room was on the other side of the house but still it
wasn't a huge space and I always tried to keep quiet whenever I jacked
off. I wet my thumb and hand with the precum leaking from the head and
started slowly stroking down the shaft. I looked back at my phone and
swiping up to find more shirtless photos.  My breathing got heavier as I
picked up the pace. Then as I flipped up I accidentally tapped the friend
request button.

I stopped. Fuck, I thought. That was a mistake. Chris didn't know me. He
was just coming up to spend half of his summer in Colorado. His visit had
nothing to do with me. He was way too cool. He was way too popular. Why did
I just embarrass myself like that by sending him a friend request out of
the blue. My dick went limp in my hand. I radiated embarrassment. I bet the
first words out of his mouth when he got here were going to be, "Why the
fuck did you think I'd be your friend, fag?" I winced in future shame.

My phone buzzed. A notification. "Friend Request Accepted". Another
notification. Facebook messenger. It was Chris. He had started chatting
with me. I opened the app.

"Hey man! Long time no see. Can't wait 2CU and Aunt Deb this summer." It
read.

I froze. I didn't know what to do. I had literally just been jacking off to
half-naked pictures of him. "Hi." I replied lamely. And then, "Me too."

"What's fun to do in Colorado." Fun? I had no idea. I went to
school. Played video games. And... uh... sometimes went to movies? Fun
things to do in Colorado? You might as well have asked the cat.

"I dunno." I replied. "There's not a whole lot."

"We'll change that." He wrote back. "I'm pretty good at finding
trouble. ;)" A winky emoji. I didn't know how to take it. Was
he... flirting with me? No, that's ridiculous. I had no idea. I was pretty
sure I'd never been flirted with in my life.

Another message: "Hey Greg, just going through your profile. You should
post more pictures. You look good." My heart stopped. What? What was he
talking about? I was a scrawny sixteen-year-old ginger. I was the kind of
kid South Park made fun of on a weekly basis. In my mind I was the
definition of unattractive.

"Thanks," I wrote back. "You too." Fuck. Why did I put that last part? I
felt part of me die on the inside.

"Thanks man," he wrote, "I've been training pretty hard for a couple years
now. If you want I can show you some things."

My mouth was dry. This whole conversation was confusing to me. Why was he
being nice to me? Why was he acting like I was...? I don't know... cool?
"Sure." I answered not knowing what else to say.

"well I gotta go but ttyl. We're going to have fun this summer."

I laid back down in bed, my chest beating. What did that last part mean? My
dick had sprung back up, poking out from between the slit of my
boxers. Fun? What could fun mean with Chris? I went back to slowly stroking
my pulsating cock.  Despite my assumptions he seemed nice. Like, really
nice. I knew he hadn't actually been flirting with me (how could he have?)
but my cock didn't care as I laid back and ran my hands across my chest
imagining that it was me on that beach, that it was his arm wrapped around
mine. My cousin was a fucking jacked jock and even if he wasn't into guys
I'd still get to spend the summer ogling him and maybe smelling his clothes
at night while jacking off. I quickened my pace as I imagined what he
looked like naked, about maybe spying him as he slept on the couch in the
living room. Shit I was so hard I felt like my chest was going to
explode. I could see in my minds eye his perfect torso, those golden eyes,
those small pert nipples. Jesus. I couldn't stifle my moans as I climaxed
all over my hand and my t-shirt in an explosion of cum and pent up
sexuality. My whole chest was sticky as cum seeped from all over and across
my shirt and into my chest. I casually lifted my hand up and licked some of
it off my fingers.

Maybe I had been wrong about the visit. Maybe I was going to like this
after all.

--------------------

Two weeks later my mom and I were on the road to DIA (Denver International
Airport) to pick Chris up and I was a nervous wreck. I'd spent the past two
weeks shifting between fear that once Chris met me and got to know me that
he'd hate me and then I'd spend the next month living with a jock I
couldn't stand, to feverish fantasies about spying on him naked.  By the
time that afternoon rolled around and mom had asked if I wanted to go to
the airport I had worked myself up so much that I almost didn't go.

But my cock won out. I had to get to see him in person. Also, if he did
turn out to be the kind of jerk I couldn't get along with I wanted to know
sooner rather than later. So, with butterflies banging around my stomach
and my baggy cargo shorts concealing an erection that kept coming and going
I got in the car and we headed out.

"Thanks again for clearing out your closet," my mom said. "I know things
might be a little tight for a while, but I really appreciate you coming on
board." It had been easy. I didn't have a ton of clothes to begin with,
most of the space being taken up with old backpacks and retired video game
systems and games. I never knew what to wear and I was sort of ashamed of
my painfully thin pale body, so I just wore the same gray and black
oversized t-shirts to hide it. I only had a couple of dress shirts I wore
for Speech and Debate competitions, but I pretty much always looked the
same.

"It was fine," I said. "It's going to be harder sharing the bathroom." I
was lying.  Half of my fantasies had been about walking in on him showering
or vice versa.  Not that I'd ever have the courage to do it in person.

"You'll manage," she told me, "When I was growing up I had to share the
bathroom with three sisters and your uncle Sammy. Mornings were a
nightmare. I think two teenage boys who don't have to get ready for school
in the mornings are going to do fine. Do I have enough room to merge here?"

I twisted around. "Yeah, I think so," I told her as we headed for the
exit. "When's his plane due?"

"3:12."

I sighed, "We're going to be an hour early!"

"I don't like being late, you know that. Besides, I thought we could stop
by one of the shops and get him a little welcoming present. Maybe some
flowers."

I had the thought of me standing there stupidly handing my estranged hunky
cousin a bouquet of flowers. I might have had a giant neon sign pointing at
me reading, "Colossal Dork". I blinked it out. "No, mom. Please."

"Oh, it'll be nice. I'd love it if someone bought me flowers," my mom
said. She'd been single for three years now after a four long on again off
again affair with a History professor at the University. I wasn't sure if
she was hinting that I should start buying her flowers or maybe she was
thinking of getting back on the market.  My mom had always been married to
her work and any man who was going to be with her had to understand
that. It had made dating for her difficult.

"He's not you, though," I countered. "He's a guy. It's different."

"You liked those flowers I gave you when you won that tournament," she
scolded.

I had, in fact, hated those flowers. I remember coming off the stage and
seeing my mom right there with the biggest gayest bouquet of wild flowers
and roses I'd ever seen. She'd thrust them into my arms as I awkwardly
tried to hold both them and my new trophy with two hands. I remember my
face turning red with embarrassment. No one else's mom had shown up with
flowers. I purposefully did the one event in speech, Extemp that was so
boring that nobody who didn't have to watch it, did. I didn't like
attention and while I knew my mom was proud of me, at that moment I wanted
to shrink into a ball and die. She proudly displayed the bouquet on our
dining room table for over two weeks until the flowers had begun to rot and
smell.

"But mom..." I began.

"Hush," she said, "Everyone loves flowers."

It took a little while to park the car in short term parking and we wound
our way through the airport looking through overpriced souvenir stores. To
my mom's dismay there was only one shop that sold flowers and they were all
paltry and sad and she said they'd never do. To my own dismay she instead
decided to go with an even bigger bouquet of metallic balloons which of
course she made me carry as we shuffled our way to the waiting area where
people entered from the three terminals.

I looked around, the balloons spread out around me like a visible aura that
quickly announced, "look at this nerd". Nobody else was carrying balloons
or even flowers for that matter. "Mom, this is ridiculous. Everyone's
looking at us."

"Nobody's looking at us. You're being paranoid. Now watch out for your
cousin."

I felt the pit of my stomach drop. I'd feel ridiculous holding this
monstrosity anywhere but here I was, about to make my first impression on
Chris and I looked like an even bigger dork than I already felt
inside. Half of me wanted to run out of the airport.

"Keep your eyes peeled. I see people in Florida shirts. I think they're
from his plane."

I picked my eyes from off the ground and started scanning the people
exiting the escalator. Perhaps I was just overly sensitive from two weeks
spent jacking off and fantasizing about erotic gay encounters. Perhaps it's
because I usually spent all my time trying very much NOT to notice or be
attracted to other men, but man after man walking off the escalator seemed
to tick my button. A broad looking man in his late forties with a trimmed
beard wearing a tight-fitting suit and pair of slacks that looked like they
were glued on. A pair of blonde twenty-somethings in tank tops and sandals
a light dusting of yellow hair caking their slender calves. A heavily
tatted Hispanic guy, bald wearing an A-Frame and tight cut offs. Fuck.
Were all the men in Florida straight out of a porn movie?

Then I saw him. He stood around five eleven (from my five eight) and his
neatly cropped hair raised at the top in a jelled wave was how I first
spotted him. His face, even more handsome in person, looked around, mostly
up as he tried to orient himself to a new airport. He also wore a striped
tank top, his sunglasses hanging from the low-neck line which showed his
well-developed chest, lightly dusted with clearly groomed fine hair. He
wore a pair of linen shorts that hugged both the back and the short of him,
down to a pair of adidas running shoes and the trace line of athletic
anklet socks under his ankles. His legs were covered in dark hair.

He was perfect.

And here I was holding an enormous bouquet of silver balloons. I wished I
could have dropped into the floor.

"Chris!" My mom yelled. His head snapped to see us. He looked to my mom,
then at me, then the enormous pile of balloons. He looked
confused. "They're for you!" My mom shouted, "Welcome to Colorful
Colorado!" And then he smiled. It was that same dazzling smile in all his
Facebook and Instagram photos. For a moment I stopped being embarrassed. I
stopped thinking really. I just stood there stunned. And before I knew it
he had walked over and was hugging me.

"Hey Greg," he said, as I felt his taller body enveloping mine, "Really
good to see you, man."

-------------------------------

After getting his duffle bag from the baggage carrier we headed off to the
car. I hadn't said much besides a cursory "You too... man," after the
hug. Luckily my mom could always be counted on to pull the weight in any
conversation. It was mostly talk about how his sisters and brother had been
doing in college or their careers (Chris was the youngest) and how his dad
had been taking the first year of his retirement.

I spent most of the time awkwardly staring at the ground, still clutching
the balloons, since Chris had his own bags to deal with, or when his focus
was directed solely at my mom, running my eyes over his perfect body. I was
feeling a bit light headed.

I was also feeling a little... let down. Chris had been ignoring me in
favor of my mom, which, considering she was doing all the talking, made
sense. So far, my only interaction with him had been the hug and by now I
felt awkward and stupid.  To his credit, Chris seemed like a nice
guy. Maybe he'd be different when my mom wasn't there, but he seemed
genuine and polite and not at all like most of the jocks I'd gone to school
with. Maybe they bred them different in Orlando. I didn't know.

But I found his presence overwhelmingly distracting and because he was so
hot and so good looking and because we probably didn't have anything in
common, I couldn't imagine how I was going to spend the next month and a
half with this man in the house. He was technically still a teen, but even
in the brief time from the walk from the baggage carousel to the car, I
could tell he had a maturity and confidence about him that seemed
ultimately adult and foreign to me. I saw no point of connection that we
might have and now I dreaded the time I might spend with him. It'd be like
a showing a starving man a feast he could only look at through the pane of
a window.

"You'll have to mind the mess," my mom said, opening the backseat of her
Toyota. "I guess I wasn't expecting your bag to be so big." I glanced down
at his tight shorts and the mound of flesh at the front of them. Me too,
mom, I thought.  Me too.

"I can put it on my lap," Chris said. He had a rich clear voice, higher
than I would have guessed, but still a man's. He seemed to be in "polite
helpful youth" mode with my mom.

"Nonsense just let me rearrange some things..." she said ducking into the
trunk.

Chris's attention turned to me. I felt myself stiffen. He smiled and nodded
towards the balloons. "Thanks for the balloons," he said.

My face flushed. "It was my mom's idea," I blurted out.

Chris laughed. "I figured. For my graduation she got me a giant bottle of
jelly beans. She's known for big gestures." I inwardly groaned. I loved my
mom, but she could be humiliating.

"There!" My mom said, "See, I knew I could make it all fit."

"What about the balloons?" Chris asked pointing his thumb in my direction.

"I...I can keep holding them," I stammered.

"They'll have to go in the front," she said, "I can't have them in the
back. I have to be able to see out the mirror."

"I told you they were a bad idea..." I started to mutter.

"Here," Chris said taking off his shoe in the parking garage, "tie them to
this and put it in on the floor of the passenger seat. They shouldn't get
in the way."

I was taken aback a bit by Chris's sock clad foot. He was already starting
to take off his clothes. My mind went momentarily blank until I remembered
that the passenger seat was where I had been sitting. "But..." I began to
weakly protest.

"That's very clever, Chris. Thank you." My mom said taking the balloons
from me.  "Greg, you can sit in the back with Chris."

Chris sidled up to me and put his arm around my shoulder. "It'll be a boy's
club," he said and winked at me.

---------------------

In the car my mom continued to dominate the conversation, the balloons
hovering at her chest level on the passenger seat. I sat in the backseat to
the right of Chris, hands on my lap watching out the car window as Chris
continued to answer questions in a light and breezy way on the other
seat. Next to him, his smell was overwhelming. A mixture of sweat,
deodorant, and aftershave. He sat, his legs crossed, his shoeless foot
perched towards me on his furry knee. He draped his arm casually across the
back of the seats, his hand achingly close to my head.

He had been answering questions about himself. He didn't know yet where he
was going to school. He had a couple of options but one of the reasons he
wanted to take a year was to visit different parts of the country and maybe
even Europe to see how he liked it. He didn't know if he was going to
continue running track when he went to college. A lot of programs were very
competitive and doing it in high school is different than becoming a
collegiate athlete. Then the conversation moved to his dating life.

"So, what about your love life?" My mom sang, "Any girlfriends I should
know about?"

For the first time since he'd got off the plane, I could sense some brief
discomfort in Chris. He laughed. "Well, I was seeing someone for a while
back in school," he said. My heart sank. Of course, he was straight. How
could he not be straight? I don't even know what I was thinking hoping
otherwise. I looked off into the distance as other cars zoomed past in the
other lane. "But they're going to school at Penn State, and I'm taking this
whole year off and we don't really want to do the whole long-distance
thing."

I stopped. "They're" going to school? Why wouldn't he just say "she"? A
glimmer of hope rekindled itself in my mind.

I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned. Chris was touching me on the
shoulder. It wasn't a tap. His hand stayed there resting. He didn't seem
inclined to move it. He looked at me, "And what about you Greg? You dating
anyone right now?" It felt like his eyes were burrowing their way through
me. I looked swiftly to the floor.

"A good question," chimed my mom, "I try not to be nosy sweetie, but do
have any crushes or anything? You never really tell me anything about your
love life."

I couldn't help but dart my eyes to Chris who still held my gaze, his face
warm but inscrutable. "No..." I said, weakly. I felt pinned, like a trapped
butterfly. "I'm too busy with school work to think about... things like
that." God, I thought. Even as the words came out of my mouth I couldn't
help but see myself from the outside: a lame bookworm who didn't have a
life outside of school and his studies.

The car swerved slightly, and the momentum pushed me against the window and
Chris towards me. His bare leg was now touching mine. I wanted to jerk away
but I didn't. Even as the car rebalanced he didn't move his leg away
either. "It's okay," he said continuing the conversation, as if we weren't
touching legs, as if his hand wasn't resting on my shoulder. "It took me a
while to figure those things out too."  I stared blankly at him, "If you
want, I give you some pointers." I swallowed.

"Sure," I said, "Okay," Desperate to keep my raging erection a secret in
the deep folds of my oversized cargo shorts.

I spent the entire ride back in a state of constant arousal. Only until we
were a few blocks from the house did Chris stretch and the contact between
our calves stopped. "Home sweet home!" My mom announced as we eased into
the garage.

After a short tour of the house, (there wasn't much to see, after all) my
mom announced the sleeping arrangements. "So the couch pulls out. Greg
spends a lot of time in his room, and I'm usually in the study, but if ever
you want to go to bed early and we're in here, just say the word and we'll
let you be. Same in the morning." She demonstrated how the couch unfolded
into a decently sized bed.  "There's fresh linen in here. Laundry is in the
garage. I expect you to wash your own sheets at least once a week if that's
okay."

"That's cool. I've been doing my own laundry for a while. Youngest of four,
so my mom had her hands full."

"Good," My mom said walking behind me and putting her hands on my
shoulders, "Maybe you can teach Greg. Come on, let me show you the
bathroom."

My bathroom, I guess now OUR bathroom, was a narrow little room with a
glass divider for the shower/bath. I had actually spent a good chunk of the
last week cleaning it before Greg got there. I didn't know how many times
I'd jacked off in the shower or bath, but the last thing I wanted was for
Chris to find and be grossed out by old cum stains. I'd split the counter
in two with half the room for any of his stuff. The bathroom was right next
to my room, and I was secretly thrilled I'd be able to tell any time he
went in there. I wondered if he ever jacked off in the shower like I
did. Would I be able to hear it? Would I be able to tell?

The tour ended with my own room. I usually left it pretty messy, but I
wanted a good impression, so I'd picked up, mostly. I had cleaned out the
top three drawers from my dresser and rearranged my closet so that he'd
have room to hang up stuff in there too. "So this is Greg's room," my mom
continued her tour, "It's usually a little messier than this, but Greg's
cleaned it up nice for you, didn't you Greg?"

I grit my teeth. "Mom..."

"Since space is limited, you'll be sharing some clothing space here in
Greg's room, if that's all right, Chris?"

Chris shrugged his shoulders. "That's fine by me. Thanks Greg."

His genuine gratitude took me by surprise. It took me a while to utter the
words, "Don't—don't, uh, mention it," back at him.

"Just, you know, knock before you go in," my mom warned, "He's a sixteen
year old boy, he could be doing anything in there."

"MOM!!" I was burning with rage and embarrassment all at once. "Will you
STOP??"

"It's fine," Chris said, "I'm a guy too. We all do it." He then smiled at
me. It was such a charming and sweet smile. It seemed to say, "Don't
worry. I get it. Don't be embarrassed." And all of my anger sank out of my
body and I impulsively smiled back and rolled my eyes as if to say,
"Moms. Amirite?"

My mom came over and kissed me on the head and for the first time that day
I wasn't embarrassed by her. "I'm sorry sweetie. I know I can be a bit
much." She then turned to Chris. "I'm going to let you get settled. If you
need anything, just holler. We can show you a bit of the town
tomorrow. Right now I'm going to order some pizza. Is there anything you
want?"

"I'll eat anything," Chris said.

"And you?" She asked looking at me. It was a strange question. I'd always
been a picky eater and I always wanted the exact same kind of pizza since I
was little.  Black Olives with Pepperoni. I never ate anything else. But
suddenly I felt differently. I felt like trying something new. I felt like
experimenting.

"Surprise me." I said and smiled, feeling unabashedly good for the first
time that day.

---------------

Like my mom, I too left Chris alone to get his bearings and to check on his
phone alone in the living room. I also didn't want to feel clingy. Or
weird. My feelings for Chris had changed since we picked him up. I still
lusted after him. I still found him to be unbelievably sexy. But I also
found something else. In all of my imaginings in both my worst case
scenarios and my sexiest fantasies, I never really thought about Chris as a
person. Or if I did I thought of him the same way I felt about the gym rats
in my high school. Sexy, sure. But also unknowable ciphers at best, giant
assholes at worst. But Chris wasn't like that. He was nice and charming,
and he seemed to want to get to know me despite my awkwardness and
dorkiness. If I was being honest with myself, the calves touching in the
car, the use of "they" when he could have said "she", were probably false
flags. Chris was probably straight. Nothing would ever happen between Chris
and me outside of my own vague fantasies and probably me trying to figure
out ways of seeing him naked.  But at the same time, I was sort of okay
with that. Chris was something I had never even considered: a possible real
friend. The kind of friend I'd never had before. The kind of friend who was
older and wiser and a hell of a lot cooler than me. He seemed kind of like
the big brother I'd never had before. And that was something it hadn't
occurred to me to want. But here I was wanting it all the same.

A knock on my door.

"Come in." I said. The door opened and in stepped Chris with his duffle
bag.  Looking up at him from my computer desk, it still seemed surreal to
have such a hot guy, the same hot guy I'd spent the past two weeks jacking
off to, stepping inside my bedroom as if it was no big deal.

I think I might have been staring at him too long because after a bit of an
awkward pause he said, "Mind if I unload a few things?"

"No, not at all!" I said, maybe a little too loudly. Then, as if to
compensate, "If you want I can leave." I stood up from my chair.

"Stay," he said. It almost felt like a warm command, "I like the company."

He dropped his duffle bag to the ground and reached down to unzip it. I
could see the edge of his underwear peeking up from below his shirt. Calvin
Klein. I'd heard of the underwear, but never seen it in person. I
desperately wanted to see him in them.

There was a lull as he began to take out his clothes. I felt overwhelmed by
the variety. There were jeans, t-shirts, button downs with bright floral
patterns, shorts. As someone who wore basically the same outfit every day
it felt like watching a different species.

I suddenly became aware of the silence and decided to fill it. "So, um..."
I began, "Why did you decide to take a year off?"

Chris paused, from unrolling a shirt. "I don't know," he said, "It's
weird. I just felt like there was all this pressure to choose a college,
choose a path, make these, you know, big decisions. There's a lot to
explore. I didn't want to settle down. I don't know what I want to do for
the rest of my life, but maybe traveling the next year or so will help me
figure it out."

I blinked. "Really?" I said, "I feel like I've known what I've wanted to do
since... I don't know, forever!"

"What's that?" he said.

"I want to go to Caltech. I want to be an animator."

Chris leaned against the dresser, the unpacked shirt slung over his
shoulder bemused. "Really? An artist? I always took you for more a math and
science kind of guy."

"Well, computer animation," I continued. "It's like a combination of art
AND math. You have to use math, use computers, to create art. It's like the
best of both worlds."

"That's awesome, man," he said, "Have you done anything?"

I swallowed and glanced at the computer. I had been working for over a year
now on a modeling project. Two modeling projects to be exact. One was an
exact replica of the house I lived in. I'd built every single model from
scratch. Every room. Every book. Every cup. Every piece of furniture. It
had taken me weeks. I'd never shown it to anyone except my friend Skyler
because she shared the same interest. I had wanted to somehow make a film
set in the scene, but all I had done so far is render a few images...

The other project was more of a secret, so secret in fact it had its own
hidden folder on my computer. I'd started sculpting 3D models of men. Naked
men. In as exact detail as possible. I'd only done two of them so far and
my animating skills were too weak to create any virtual porn but that's
what I'd spent too many nights jacking off and doing. I... I couldn't show
him those.

"I've built a house. A replica. This house..."

"What do you mean, you built?" He asked.

"I mean I created a 3D model using this software program, a student copy of
Maya." I said gesturing around me, as I started pulling up the files on my
computer.

Chris walked over and behind me, looking at the screen as I opened the
program to show him what I was working on. I felt him put his hand on my
shoulder. My cock tingled. I could smell that same scent of aftershave and
sweat. "This is incredible," he said looking at the wireframe images on the
screen, "You made all this?" His voice was filled with undisguised wonder.

"Yeah," I said, "I just sort of looked around and tried to figure it out. I
look at things and ask myself, okay, how do you make this, how do you make
that? I look at a coat hanger and think, what is this shape really? How can
I replicate this? It's fun."

"That's amazing," he said. "Have you made anything else?"

I paused slightly and then swiveled back to him. He was standing now
directly in front of me, my head directly in front of his shorts. I looked
up. "No," I lied.

He stayed there and looked at me for a long while. "You're really cool, you
know that?" He said.

My face flushed. I looked down. He was toying with me now. Maybe I'd been
wrong about him after all. Maybe all his charm had just been an act. I felt
his hand against my cheek and my chin and I raised my head to look up at
him. "I mean it," he said. He looked directly at me, his voice clear and
direct. "You're very cool and you should be proud of it."

I felt my heart skip. I didn't know what to say. "That's... That's not
really..."

He leaned down to look at me in the eyes. "You have a confidence problem,"
he said, "I see that. That's okay. That's something we can work on." He
took his hand and rubbed it against my chin, "I wasn't sure what I was
going to do these five weeks," he continued, "But I do now. I'm going to
help you. Get out of your shell, I mean. Make you appreciate what you've
got. For instance, I bet you don't realize how good looking you are."

I jolted backwards. What was he saying? "I...I don't..." I fumbled.

Chris moved his hand away but didn't shift his stare. "You are, you know."
He said. I could hardly hear him from the blood ringing in my ears. I
stared at him dumbly starting to shake my head. He stood up, and went back
to his duffle bag, "I've got a routine. I'll show it to you. You start
working out a bit, dress a bit different, get a trim, you'll have the girls
at school all over you. You won't stop thanking me."

My heart fluttered in confusion. I was equally insulted and
grateful. Equally grateful and saddened of his by now clear
straightness. "Th-Thanks," I said.

"Or the guys if that's what you're in to," he said. He said it as
nonchalantly as if he was talking about the weather. He didn't even look at
me. He just opened a side pouch from his duffle bag. I was so taken aback,
nobody had ever accused or suggested I was gay outside some random asshats
in gym class who called everyone fag, that it took me a few moments to
realize he was laying out his underwear. It was an exotic collection, all
briefs with the occasional jockstrap.  Every one of which I immediately
wanted to rub my face against, but at the same time...

"No." I said a little too loudly. My heart couldn't stop beating. I
couldn't out myself to this cousin. This man I had barely met only an hour
and half before. I was barely out to myself. Whenever I looked at porn,
always gay, I partitioned that away into a different category of my
cortex. That wasn't me. That wasn't Greg who looked at that stuff. Who
found pleasure in watching shirtless men grind against each other, kiss
each other, plow each other. That was someone else. I wasn't ready. I would
never be ready. "I'm straight," I clarified, "I like girls."

Chris smiled at me, the same smile he always seemed to have, as he folded
up his underwear and put them in the top of my chest of drawers. "Whatever
works for you. I'm cool either way."

-----------------------

Pizza dinner was surprising in its non-surprise. Mom ordered a pepperoni
black olive for me and a vegetarian supreme for her. Chris was left to
choose for himself. He sampled both.

After the conversation in my bedroom I felt a little awkward around
Chris. Had I given myself away? I had probably been too obvious both in the
bedroom and in the car ride. Of course he knew I was gay, what was I
thinking? And now I'd have to spend half the summer really controlling
myself, so he didn't find out the truth.  A truth, he, probably like the
wise-ass he was, probably thought he knew.

Obviously I was still deeply attracted to him, but now I couldn't risk
showing it.  Any of my plans of spying on him at night or catching him in
the shower would just throw logs onto the fire of his suspicions. And I
wasn't ready to come out yet.  This erotic adventure, which had been fun in
my head, had turned into a landmine strewn playground where every step
could lead to suspicion and discovery.

Luckily, as always, Mom did most of the talking. After a while there was a
lull in the conversation. Each of us had had their fill of pizza, making
for more than enough left overs.

"So," asked Chris, "What's next?"

"Well," replied my mom, "I'm afraid I'm a bit of wet blanket. I'm going to
head to bed soon. Anyone want more pizza?" She offered the boxes in our
direction. We waved her off. "I've got a bit of work left to do in my study
but then afterwards I'm bound for bed. I usually tuck in early. So you boys
are on your own. Greg, entertain your cousin."

Chris then turned to me expectantly. My mouth gaped. I could conjure all
sorts of ways I'd love to spend with this man, but none of them seemed
possible. I felt like I couldn't form words. I twisted my head to the
ground. A very pregnant pause ensued.

"We have cable," my mom suddenly announced, "Plus Netflix. If you want to
watch anything, please. Though Chris might be tired after his trip, so
Greg, give him his space please."

"No," countered Greg, "I actually slept on the plane. If you want to watch
a movie, I'd be happy to."

Ordinarily I wouldn't want to watch a movie, on cable or
otherwise. Ordinarily I'd rather just go to my room and work on my
projects. But this wasn't ordinary. Even without all my secret yearnings it
seemed clear that it was my household responsibility to entertain our
guest. Plus, despite what happened in my bedroom I still really liked and
so-far respected Chris. I actively wanted to hang out with him, even if he
had intimated I might be gay. Watching a movie together might be a bonding
experience. "Sure," I said, "That sounds fun."

-------

We sat on opposite ends of the couch as we explored our options. Eventually
we decided on The Hangover, a movie I'd never seen and a movie Chris
insisted we watch together. As we set it up on our cue, Chris stood up and
peeled off his tank top. "Mind if wash up first?" he said, "I feel like an
animal sitting on that plane all day."

I was struck dumb at first. I had seen shirtless pictures of him, but to
watch him strip to the flesh was something else. After running my eyes up
and down his taught torso I remembered where I was and said, "Yeah, of
course. You know where the bathroom is."

He smiled again at me. "I do. You know, you might want to change into
PJs. It's a long movie." He then sauntered back to the bathroom and closed
the door.

It was a weird thing to say. I couldn't remember the last time I'd heard
the word PJs. I usually just slept in whatever shirt I'd been wearing and
my boxers. What did he mean?

I heard the shower turn on. Here it was, this scenario I'd been imagining
for two solid weeks, but the door was closed and there was no way,
especially after our conversation in my bedroom that I was going to risk
going in there. Besides, I thought, this was just the first night. Perhaps
if I played my cards right, played up the straight card, I could have other
opportunities to spy on him without him noticing. It was my best hope.

But what about the PJ comment? Was I really going to watch some movie in my
underwear? In my boxers? With my cousin? The thought turned me on but also
terrified me.

I put my ear to the door of the bathroom. Elsewhere throughout the house, I
heard my mom exit her study and enter her bedroom. "Good night!" She
shouted.

"Good night!" I yelled back forgetting exactly where I was, right next to
the bathroom door. Oh, fuck, I thought. Chris could have heard me, right
outside. He could have known I was there. I swiftly retreated into my room
and sat down on the bed.

Oh shit. I thought. Oh shit. Oh shit. I heard the shower head turn off on
the other side of the wall. Chris had finished. Oh shit. What was I going
to do? To change he had to come here, where all his clothes were. I sat
up. Maybe if I fled to the dining room I could pretend he heard an echo. I
heard the bathroom door open. Shit. I stepped towards the door. My move was
immediately countered by my 18-year- old cousin wearing nothing but a towel
standing in the middle of my doorway.

"Hey buddy," he said, "I thought you were going to get into your PJs."

I stared at him dumbly. He was covered in moisture. His normally manicured
hair lay at its side like a limp rag. His bare chest glistened. The drops
on the fuzz of his well-manicured torso glistened in the light of my study
lamp. The loose towel draped around his waist hung immoderately. I could
see the definition of his lower pelvis and the slight treasure trove that
led to parts unknown.  I was still standing. Standing and
staring. "Uhhh..." I said not so cogently.

"It's fine if you don't," he said, "I just thought you might find it more
comfortable.  I'm probably going to bed after this. I don't know about
you."

I gaped. Did he want me to change? Did he want me to get undressed as much
as I wanted him to? I sat back down on the bed.

"I...I don't have any PJs." I sputtered.

"What do you sleep in?" Chris asked opening the first chestful of drawers.

"J-Just usually a T-shirt and some boxers," I said.

"I usually just sleep in my underwear. That okay?"

All I could do was nod dumbly. "Sure."

"Cool. Thanks," he said as he grabbed a pair of white briefs and let the
towel drop. There he was. Naked in my bedroom. I glanced briefly at his
cock. His pubes were neatly trimmed and his flaccid penis hung a good few
inches against his out from his balls. I couldn't stare further. I'd always
forced myself to look away when people changed during gym class. I stared
at the ground.

"So, Greg," he continued nonchalantly stepping into his briefs, (God, they
just clung to him) "I'm gonna need a guide to help me find my way around
town the next few days. You down to spend the next few days with me?"

I looked at him. This broad chested demi-God standing before me in his
tighty whities. I tried my best at a confident smile. "Yeah," I said,
"Totally."

"Thanks, man," he said," he then glanced down at me, "You going to change?"

I gulped. Having just glimpsed him naked I was sporting an erection bigger
than I'd ever had in my young short life. I'd inadvertently grabbed a
pillow to hide myself. "Now?" I asked.

He nodded backwards to the living room. "I'm going to go get the movie
loaded.  Yeah, man. Come on."

"I...I have to go to the bathroom first," I said nervously, still not
daring to move.

He laughed. "You do your thing, man. I'll be on the couch." He stepped
back, buck naked apart from his briefs and left me alone. I sighed. There
was no way I could watch a movie with him in my condition. I was ready to
shoot my load right then and there. I waited until he made his way to the
TV, far enough away that he wouldn't be able get a good look at me. I moved
the pillow and got up. My cock was almost painfully hard, tenting at my
lame boxers through my cargo shorts.  Why didn't I wear briefs? Why
couldn't I look that sexy. Walking backwards, so he couldn't see my front,
I backed out of my room and quickly made my way into the bathroom.

The room was still slick with moisture from the hot shower and I shut and
locked the door behind me. The shower smelled like unfamiliar soap and
deodorant. It smelled like him. I raced over to the toilet and tugged my
boxers down. I tugged at my cock. "Ugh..." I couldn't help but groan as by
three tugs I was spewing one of the biggest loads of my life across the
room. Instead of going into the toilet most of it spewed out and hit the
wall. My whole body felt on fire. After I stopped trembling, I could feel
the last of it dribble out my dick and finally for once that day I started
going soft. I rolled up my boxers but stepped out of my shorts. I still
felt weird about taking off my oversized shirt that hung down mid-thigh, so
I left it on. But I had never been this naked unclothed with anyone, let
alone someone as hot as Chris. It was a big step. I picked up the cargo
shorts, tried to clean up some of the mess with some tissue, and flushed
the toilet. I walked out of the bathroom and tossed the shorts into my
room.

Chris glanced up from the couch. He was sitting sprawled out on one side,
sitting casually on his bare leg. Fuck, he looked so fucking sexy. "You
ready?" He said, as I walked over to the couch, "You're gonna love this
shit. One of the funniest movies ever."

"Yeah," I said, trying my hardest not to graze my eyes over his hard
body. I couldn't risk letting him see me aroused. I walked past him and
positioned myself to the farthest end of the sofa. "Let's do this."

Chris was right. It was funny. Like stupidly funny. It was hard not to be
distracted by Chris sitting mostly naked on the other side of the couch,
but I found myself getting lost in the stupid comedy. Zach Galifinakis was
brilliant. I'd laugh or he'd laugh and we'd look at each other and both
laugh and I felt myself slowly relax and ease my tension.

As the movie progressed Chris began to sprawl along the couch and I slowly
mirrored him, both of us laying against either arm of the plushy ends of
the sofa.  His arms raised behind his head gave me an impressive look at
his chest but also his hairy armpits. He was so casual. So free with his
body. I wanted to bury my face in those pits. I wanted to lick that chest,
taste his nipples. I could feel my cock growing in my boxers and made a
serious effort to shut that kind of thinking down and concentrate on the
movie.

Later on, as both of us began our sprawl, Chris stretched out and suddenly
leg was against my own, his left foot on my calf. Just like before in the
car, I had the impulse to jerk away but looking across from him, he seemed
totally engrossed in the movie. This is just what happens, I thought. This
is just two bros hanging out watching a movie. I did my best to calm down
and pay attention to the film.

We laid like that for the rest of the night, and as the credits started to
roll Chris moved his leg away, stood up and yawned. "Okay, man," he said,
"I'm beat. Mind if tuck in?"

I stood up too and shrugged, lamely. My black t-shirt enveloping my
torso. "Not at all," I said, "Thanks, uh... thanks for the movie
suggestion."

He flashed that killer smile. "Any time cuz," he said he then stepped
toward me brought me into a bear hug.

I froze. His naked skin next to my own. This close I could still smell the
soap on him. I didn't have the strength to hug back. "It's good spending
time with you, Greg," he said. His voice soft in my ear.

"Y-you too." I whispered back. I could feel the blood rush to my penis,
pressed against his thigh.

He didn't let go. He's got to be able to tell, I thought. This is so
humiliating.  Instead he squeezed tighter and said, "Anything you need from
me, anything you just let me know, okay man?"

My hard dick was now pressing painfully against his thigh. Was he just
oblivious? I felt like dying inside. I nodded and pushed away. "Thanks," I
said turning my back to him. I walked swiftly away and behind the couch. As
I reached the doorway of my room I stopped. "You too Chris. Anything you
need, just holler."

I looked back at him, this muscled man in his underwear standing in our
living room. Was it just me or was the bulge at his underwear a little
bigger? "Thanks Greg," he said, "Actually, I don't know how you sleep but
could you leave your door open? I might go jogging in the morning and I
don't want to wake you."

"Sure," I nodded turning on my bedroom light. "Come in whenever you need
to."

He flashed me that heart melting smile. "Thanks."

---------------

It felt weird that night going to sleep with the door open. Weirder still
with Chris sleeping out in the open right outside my room. I tried to force
myself to bed, but I couldn't. I laid there and listened as he unfolded the
sofa and got ready. He shut off the light and the entire house was filled
with darkness. I was hard again and wanted to jack off. But how could I
with Chris right there?

I shut my eyes and tried to concentrate. Tried to think about boring things
like school or chemistry or Extemp topics like the crisis in Venezuala or
the Syrian war.  But I kept coming back to Chris. Lying there mostly naked,
sleeping just yards away from me. His outstretched body. I wonder if he
ever got as horny as I did. I couldn't help myself. I felt my hand reach
out for my cock in the darkness.

Then I heard a sound. I stopped still, hand still on my dick. I
listened. Silence throughout the house. Then the sound again. The movement
of fabric against skin. Something wet. I felt my heart pound through my
chest. Then a low, barely audible murmur coming from the living room. Was
Chris doing the same thing I was doing? Was he jacking off too?

I lay stock still, frozen in my bed, desperate for any new sounds in the
darkness.  Through the night the tick of my alarm clock blared like away
like tom tom drum.  Then I heard it again. This time a slight gasp. The
same wet sound, only louder, more rhythmic. Another rustle of fabric. Fuck,
I thought. He is. He's totally jacking it.

I laid there a while, hearing these noises. I didn't dare join in. Chris
was clearly awake and I couldn't let him know I was listening. At the same
time it was impossible to ignore. He wasn't loud, exactly. He was just
constant. The sound of his slick hand running up and down his penis. His
shifting around on the bed. The sound of his breath coming more ragged.

I couldn't take it anymore.

I slowly, inch by inch got off the bed and crept to the doorway. At this
point my eyes were pretty adjusted to the darkness. Even if they hadn't
been I'd have been able to see him. Lit by a street lamp through the
window, Chris lay spread out on the pullout, his underwear pulled just
below his ball sack as his hand expertly worked his dick. I let out an
involuntary gasp.

He was beautiful. I could now openly look at his dick, staring as I was on
the other side of the room, his head looking down at his aching cock. It
was enormous.  Easily eight inches with a large flanged mushroom head
leaking precum like no tomorrow. His right hand glided up and down the
shaft slowly, much slower than I usually did while is left hand tucked
below and slowly fondled his balls. This was happening. Chris was
masturbating. Right in front of me.

He let out another moan. "Jesus..." he whispered as his breathing
quickened. His hips were bucking now. The intensity of his rhythm
shifted. I wasn't even aware, but I found myself matching his pace,
stroking my own cock in the doorway as I watched him. I had stopped caring
about whether he heard me. He was lost in his own world anyway, or what
looked like it. Riding his own inner fantasy train. He moaned again, the
bucking of his hips continued. He was now thrusting back and forth into the
air, his ass barely touching the mattress before coming back again.  His
feet spread wide as his left hand went further down, past his balls into
his ass.

I heard a louder moan, much louder and it took me a moment to realize it
had come from me.

Chris stopped, mid thrust. His head shifted. I froze in terror, my hand
still clutched around my penis. I took a slow and silent step back. I was
practically in shadow in my door frame, but I couldn't let him see me. I
had to go back to bed. I had to pretend this never happened. I had to never
speak of this night again.

He then slowly resumed. The slick sound of wet hand against cock. He spat
in his hand and put it back to his dick. Then he started talking. "Fuck
yeah, dude. Fuck."

I stayed. Maybe he hadn't heard me. Maybe I could finish watching. My dick
was aching inside my boxers. I started rubbing it out again as I watched
him continue.

"Yeah... that's right, man. Take that dick." He murmured. His eyes were
shut. He seemed lost in his own dream. Wait, "man"? Who was we talking to?
What fantasy was he living out?

He started thrusting again. "You know you want it, dude. Take it. Take my
fucking dick."

Shit. My face flushed. Was he fantasizing about a guy?

"Hmm... Fuck yeah. Tell me. Tell me you want it." He murmured. He wasn't
whispering now. He was saying it out loud to the room. His feet pressed out
against in the mattress, his hips thrust out into the air. His beautiful
cock dripping as he milked it back and forth. My own cock was out now. I
leaned against the door frame barely able to stand as I watched my cousin
work his own meat.

"I'm so hot for you right now," he muttered, "Fuck, man, I'm so fucking
hot." My own breathing was coming in ragged spurts. I couldn't control
myself. We were both feet apart, him with his eyes closed, approaching the
point of no return. I tried desperately to control my own desperate sounds.

"I want you man," he continued, "I want you on me. I want you to feel this
cock.  My cock wants you baby."

I knew he wasn't, couldn't be talking to me. He didn't know I was there. I
was just some scrawny kid, a cousin he barely knew. But in those moments,
it felt like he was standing right next to me looking into my eyes. "Show
me you want this cock," he moaned, "Show me how much you want it."

I wanted it. Like I'd never wanted anything in my entire life. I closed my
eyes and I pictured it. His big mushroom head. The veiny shaft. I imagined
touching, tasting it, feeling it inside me.

I came. In one violent immediate eruption. I let out a strangled groan as I
did it and at the same time I looked across the room as a glorious fountain
of cum let loose from Chris's cock drenching his chest in cum. "Ahh, fuck
yeah." He cried out, his hips still heaving as jet after jet unleashed on
his now coated abdomen. "Fuck man, yessss. That's what I'm talking about."

I was still in shock. My hand was wet with my own cum. Through the darkness
I had no idea where it had landed. I didn't care. I'd just seen the hottest
thing my sixteen-year-old mind could imagine. I was short of breath. It had
been literally taken away. Chris was still laying there. He opened his eyes
and glanced down at his now shiny chest. He let out a long-relaxed sigh.

Fuck. I suddenly felt exhausted. I took a silent step back and then another
into the darkness of my room. I lay back down on the bed as quietly as I
could. My boxers were wet with cum. I slid them off. The night was hot, and
I didn't feel like covering myself with sheets or blankets. My mind still
couldn't comprehend the scene I'd just witnessed. If I thought about it
again I'd get hard and have to cum all over again. I was too tired for that
now. The day had been an emotional and erotic rollercoaster. I didn't have
the processing power to think about what had happened. I closed my eyes and
sleep took me as the memory of my cousin's moans echoed through my mind.