Date: Sun, 17 May 2020 13:22:43 -0400
From: Derek S <23belthazor23@gmail.com>
Subject: My Alpha Cousin

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This is a work of fiction, as well as my first attempt at making one of my
lifelong fantasies come to life. Therefore, any similarities in names or
locations are purely coincidental. Please do not read this if you're under
18 years of age or are not allowed to in your part of the world. If you are
however allowed to read this and have some feedback or questions, please
don't hesitate to send it to me via email at 23belthazor23@gmail.com.

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********

My Alpha Cousin
Chapter 1:

Christmas - my favourite time of the year! It's a magical time when snow
falls delicately from the sky, when local coffee shops overflow with
festive beverages, and when work is finally put on hold.

Here's the thing: I love my job. But, there's something special about
having some time off during the holidays: a week with no deadlines, no
emails, and when someone can finally shut off their alarm and sleep in. And
that's exactly what I planned on doing this Saturday morning: sleeping
in. Unfortunately, that didn't happen. Instead, I was woken up, well... a
little earlier expected.

I wasn't exactly sure what woke me up from, what would otherwise have been,
a most relaxing slumber, but as I began to collect myself, I realized that
my both parents were shouting at my siblings and I to get up. I looked at
my cell phone, and saw 6:55am. "Geez, why so early?", I thought. Then, it
dawned on me: every year around this time, my parents throw a lavish dinner
party for our friends and family. It's their way of saying thank you to
everyone that plays such an active role in our lives throughout the year.
And, like clockwork, we, the offspring of the Chase clan, first of our
names, and rulers of the silver polish, are charged with the set up: we mop
the floors, clean the bathrooms, vacuum the carpets, prepare the serving
tables, pick up the desserts (maybe some go missing), etc. How could I
forget?

I know I'm biased, but my parents throw the best parties! Nothing beats
having those that are near and dear to us come over for a party; we drink;
play games, tell stories all night; and, most importantly, we eat! Oh god
do we eat! It's not a Chase party if there's no food. Actually, it's not a
Chase party if there's not a ton of food! There's turkey, cranberry sauce
(homemade and store-bought), sushi, filet mignon, pork, spring rolls, baked
potatoes, pies, cakes, cupcakes, etc.  It's by far one of my favorite times
of the year, and my parents' as well. I mean, what's not to like, except
for maybe a few egocentric relatives? ... All joking aside (somewhat
joking), I can't wait!

It's now 6:30pm, my chores are done, and I'm getting ready for the
party. As with all of our special occasions, we Chases make it a tradition
to look our best for company. With that in mind, I forego my typical black
jeans, t-shirt and baseball cap attire to peruse my closet. I decide to axe
all of the black-tie ware (too formal), grab my favorite pair of grey
checkered pants, put on a crisp white button shirt to offset my golden
skin, and a pistachio colored tie (to make my hazel eyes pop a
little). Careful not to dirty myself, I add only a little bit of product to
my deep brown hair, shave my beard up to my square jawline, take off my
glasses, and put on some contacts.

"Jason, the guests are starting to arrive!"

"Coming mom!"

I take one final look in the mirror, abandon all hope of this 26 year-old
magically transforming into a middle eastern Brad Pitt and head for the
stairs. As I make my way down, I scan the faces of the guests who had
arrived: there was my dad's best friend John who was in from Toronto for
the weekend; my brother's beautiful new girlfriend, who was carefully
removing snow from her new winter coat; my favorite aunt - the most
selfless person I have ever met, whom I love the most in the world - always
the first to arrive and willing to lend a hand wherever needed; two of my
mother's Thursday night bowling buddies Sammy and Tammy; a few of our
neighbors, relatives and close friends; and finally a truckload of my
father's employees, all of whom are now sporting their traditionally
festive, slightly ugly, holiday ties. They drive my mother crazy as she
believes they "ruin what would otherwise be a beautiful group photo".

I say a few quick hellos to our guests, making sure to give my favourite
aunt a nice warm hug (as well as a big wet kiss for good measure), and
follow my nose to the kitchen. Just as I stepped in, my mom spotted me and
asked,

"Honey, can you go get the cranberry sauce from the basement? Your father
conveniently keeps forgetting ...", a smirk now decorating her face.

"No problem mom!", I replied happy to help.

I quickly retrace my steps, careful not to get caught in conversation, and
make my way to the basement. On my way downstairs, amongst the melody of
voices bellowing from the main floor, I hear my mom say haphazardly,

"Jason, did I also mention the appetizers on the counter - can you get
those too!?"

"My pleasure ma!", I chuckled, bounding down the stairs.

When my parents first built the house, they thought it would be practical
to have a second kitchen in the basement where our guests could feel at
home while staying with us. Guests never really made much use of it, but we
found it quite practical when the upstairs kitchen was over capacity, like
today. When I turned the lights of the basement kitchen on, I couldn't
believe my eyes: there were so many appetizers - and boy did they look
delicious! Almost by instinct, I dashed to the miniature spinach and cheese
phyllo dough pastry platter, stuffed one in my mouth, and got to work.

As I placed the last of the appetizers on the mountain of food I needed to
bring up, I felt a hand on my shoulder. Not only did it tear me away from
my concentration, practically destroying the mountain I very carefully
created, but it scared the living hell out of me, causing my body to jerk
out of fear. I thought it might be my brother or sister coming to assist me
(or my favourite aunt for that matter). However, before I could even turn
around to see who it was (and in turn give him/her shit for scaring me), a
deep a male voice echoed throughout the room:

"Need a hand cuz?", my cousin asked, laughing with all his heart.

I didn't need to turn around to know which of my cousins it was.

"Fuck Derrick, you scared the shit out of me", I exclaimed.

"Of course you got scared, you pussy!", he said still laughing, "Don't
worry, a real man's here to protect you from the bid ol' Boogieman."

By now, I had grown accustomed to my cousin's terms of endearment. As the
eldest amongst the cousins, Derrick was always rude and cocky, tormenting
all those that were "beneath him" as he repeatedly liked to remind us,
especially me.

"What are you here doing Derrick?", I said dismissively.

"Your mom asked me to come and check up on you cause you are taking so
long", he said.

"Yeah, there are surprisingly a lot of appetizers this year. I wasn't sure
if could bring them all up in one trip, but I think I came up with a pretty
good system", I said proudly as I put my hands on my hips.

"Jason, what the fuck were you going for? The Tower of Pisa?", he said
condescendingly. "No offense man, but it looks like it's going to fall over
any second...".

"Fuck off guy", I said sternly as I turned away from him and wrapped my
arms around my very, very fragile creation. "I could do this. I'll show
him", I thought.

"Come on, let me just help you before you drop everything Jace", he said
assertively.

Before I had a chance to refuse, my older cousin moved up behind me: he
pressed his firm chest against my back, placed his strong arms around me,
and, in one fluid motion, grabbed the top half of the pile. "Fuck. How the
hell did he do that so effortlessly?", I thought. Both irritated and
defeated, I lost my footing and stumbled backward, accidentally leaning
into my cousin's chest. I tried returning to a normal standing position,
careful not to drop my half of the appetizers, and provoke my cousin. But,
before I knew it, Derrick, my ruthless alpha male of a cousin that loved to
torment and emasculate me, leaned forward, pushing up against me. The
length of his body was now fully pressed against mine. We stood there in
silence. All I could feel was the warmth of his embrace, and the sensation
of pressure building between us. Tension filled the air... and then
suddenly, I felt him stir behind me. He slowly brought his lips to my ear,
and ever so devilishly whispered, "You're welcome ... cuz".

In that moment, despite how much I wanted to tell my very conceded and
arrogant cousin to go fuck himself, despite how much I hated him, I
couldn't: I was paralyzed. Every fiber of my being was now focused on his
deep voice and the feel of his warm breath on my ear. It dripped with
authority and masculine energy. It was intoxicating. I could barely
breathe, and with each passing second, I dove deeper into this abyss - into
his abyss. I wanted it to last - I needed it to last. I had to fight off
every instinct to not to lean back further and surrender myself to him - to
not push my backside hard into his cock, and tilt my head back in his neck;
to not turn around, and slide my hand into shirt, revelling in the feel of
his thick, coarse chest hair and strong pecs in my hands...

"Jason dear, what's taking you so long?", my mom asked.

The next few moments were dizzying to say the least: it was like coming out
of a daydream, or a restless nap. I don't know how long I'd been there for
- a slave entirely under my older cousin's control - but, when I finally
came to, as the fogginess surrounding me gradually dissipating, I could
hear the faint tones of worry in my mother's docile voice. I took a second
to collect myself, making sure to reposition my unbelievably rock-hard cock
in my pants, and answered, still a little flustered,

"Coming mom!"

When I turned around, my cousin wasn't there. It was just me, and the
mountain (or half mountain) of appetizers, which had hopefully not cooled
off yet... "Where did Derrick go? How long was I down here for? What the
hell just happened?", I thought. This barrage of questions kept pumping
through me. As much as I could contemplate them for the next hour, I didn't
have time to waste: my mom was waiting. So, I turned around and headed up
the stairs.

After carefully evading all one thousand of my mother's questions, meeting
each with an empathetic apology, I followed the beautiful sounds of Michael
Buble's "Winter Wonderland" back to the foyer. And within minutes, I was
uncontrollably smiling from ear to ear: almost all the guests had arrived,
and everyone was in such high spirits. My soon-to-be drunk uncles were all
lined up at the bar; my aunts were paying them absolutely no attention,
already starting to gossip; my dad's employees were teasing each other
about their mishaps over the year; my neighbors were relentlessly bugging
the town mayor about the new zoning laws coming into effect; and my brother
and sister were respectively introducing our family and friends to their
new beaux. It was a beauty to behold. However, despite all the smiles and
the laughs, despite the amazing company, as well as the platters upon
platters of appetizers now ready for consumption - despite all of that, all
I could think of right now was my cousin.

Where was he? What was he doing? How tall was he? How big was his cock? How
hairy were his armpits and ass? The more I tried to expel him from my mind,
the more I relived the moment downstairs, with his body fully pressed
against my backside, his warm breath on my skin, his muscled arms around
me... I couldn't get him out of my mind: I was desperate to get on all
fours and have him fuck the shit out of me. But what I still didn't
understand was why?  Why had my cousin leaned up against me, why had he let
me take comfort in his embrace? Was it simply to tease me and exert his
power over me? Man, was I confused. If I didn't know any better, I would
say It's almost as if... as if he enjoyed it. And what about me? Why was I
so eager to submit to my cousin, to the man that made my childhood a living
hell with his verbal abuse, and deliberate dismissal of my feelings. Yes,
growing up, I fantasized a lot about him, especially at night, dreaming of
his virile treasure trail. It fueled the great majority of my erotic dreams
paving the way for my sexual awakening. I used to dream that one day, he'd
come over to the house, spend some time with my brother and I, get so tired
that he'd have to sleep over, share a bed with me, and somehow end up
falling asleep spooning me, with one arm around me. I had a childhood crush
on my older fucking cousin. Over time though, I learned to supress these
absurd dreams, knowing full well that nothing of the sort would ever come
to pass. In reality, the only experiences my cousin and I shared consisted
of him making me feel like I was second to him and the rest of my cousins
and siblings, especially to that of my brother with whom he spent the most
of his time.

I had to stop thinking about my asshole of an older cousin. But, before I
knew it, my cock was at full mast, pressing firmly against my checkered
pants. I had to find somewhere to cool off before my cock either poked a
hole through them or exploded all over our guests (preferably the
former). Without a second thought, I snaked my way through the crowd of
guests before me, and slyly maneuvered myself behind the bar, temporarily
shielding my lower half from view. If there was any hope of me making it
out of this alive, I would need to go back to my room, and jerk off, I
thought.

"Scotch on the rocks", I heard. "And make it a double... cuz".