Date: Fri, 7 May 2004 18:21:04 -0400
From: Captain Swing <CaptSwing@webtv.net>
Subject: Six Years

When you're an adult, a six-year difference in ages is insignificant,
but when you're a kid it might as well be sixty.  My cousin Richard is
six years younger than I am, and today we consider ourselves
contemporaries.  I've known him since he was born, of course, but for
the first eleven years of his life or so he might as well have not
existed.  The six years was just too much of a difference. When I was a
rambunctious little kid, he was just a baby.  As I became an
increasingly serious schoolboy, he merely became a toddler. When I
entered adolescence, he was nothing but a pesky little brat.  We never
had anything in common, and, frankly, never paid any attention to each
other.

We lived several hours away from each other, but were part of a large,
close, extended family which got together several times a year for big
noisy reunions.  Weddings, funerals, major anniversaries and birthdays
all provided an excuse for the various families to meet in ever-changing
combinations.  But there were three fixed occasions every year when we
all, or most of us, got together:  Fourth of July at Grandpa's farm,
Labor Day at a rented house at the beach, and Thanksgiving back at the
farm.

It was the Thanksgiving get-together when I was seventeen that I first
really noticed Richard as an individual, rather than just a noisy part
of the background, one of the many little pests underfoot.  He was
eleven; puberty hadn't struck yet but he'd grown and his looks had
started to change, from a goofy little kid to a strikingly handsome
pre-teenager.  I was sitting on the porch, not doing much beside
avoiding the uproar inside, when Richard happened to join me, like me
looking for a little peace and quiet.  I almost shooed him away, still
considering him to be one of the "little ones" and beneath my notice.
But I really had no right to tell him to leave, and nothing better to
do, so I drifted into conversation with him, really talking to him for
the first time.  It was something of a revelation:  he turned out to be
good company, friendly, intelligent, funny, witty even.  His imitations
of various aunts and uncles were brilliant--accurate, hilarious, and
enjoyably malicious.  And he turned out to be surprisingly
well-informed, able to offer interesting opinions on a wide range of
topics.  Beyond this, I couldn't help noticing how cute he'd become.  He
was short, and always would be, but his facial features had taken on a
young-adult aspect already; he no longer looked like a little boy.  He
had shiny dark brown hair, almost black, wavy and thick but not overly
long.  His dark eyes shone out from a smiling, mischievous face with a
perfectly smooth zit-free complexion.  I liked looking at him as much as
I enjoyed talking to him, and I was a little sorry when we were finally
called inside to eat.

We didn't really have a chance for any further conversation that
weekend, but I made a point to say goodbye to Richard when we left; he
seemed pleased.  I thought about him occasionally over the following
months, but we didn't see each other again until the next July.  The
clan had gathered at the farm for the long Fourth of July weekend as
usual.  I was at an age, eighteen, when these meetings had become a
dreaded ordeal.  I had been working on an excuse not to go, but I knew
how much it meant to my Mom for us all to be there.  And it occurred to
me how much I'd like to see Richard again, now that he was a "real
person."  I knew there was a good chance he had no particular interest
in seeing me, that our conversation on the porch hadn't meant as much to
him as it had to me, but I looked forward to seeing him anyway.  He was
twelve now, and I was curious to see how he might have changed in eight
months.  To my delight, Richard was the first person we saw as our car
pulled into the farmyard.  He came running up to the car as we got out,
his face one big smile.

"Hi Aunt Marge, Uncle Bill."  He looked at me and his smile grew. "Hi,
Brian."

My parents seemed somewhat bewildered. though pleased, at his
enthusiastic greeting. "Why, hello,  Richard.  You certainly seem glad
to see us.  It's nice to see you too, honey."

Richard fell into step beside me as we walked to the house.  I had
returned his warm greeting and took a good look at him.  He hadn't grown
much, but there were subtle changes in his looks, all of them for the
better.  He was even more handsome than before.  And unmistakably his
voice had begun to change too.  There was no doubt he'd entered into the
glory, and terror, of puberty.

Richard mostly stuck by me as we got caught up in the flurry of
hello-how-are-you-my-how-you've-grown and the chaos of assigning
sleeping arrangements and taking bags to rooms.  For the first time
Richard was going to be sleeping with the "big boys" on the upstairs
sleeping porch--that meant me and Duane, a thick-headed, almost
simple-minded thirty year old who kept mostly to himself and whom most
everybody ignored, including me.  I wished Richard and I could have had
a room alone together, but I knew it was impossible. In fact, it wasn't
until late that afternoon that we managed to be alone together at all.

Richard and I, and a bunch of others had gone for a swim in the
irrigation pond.  This was basically a large hole in the ground filled
with water that was used for the crops when the rain wasn't sufficient
and that served as a rough swimming pool in summer and skating rink in
winter.  Richard turned out to be a good swimmer, as was I, and before
long we made our way across the deep end to the far side, away from the
others, who weren't paying any attention to us anyway.  We sat on the
edge and started to talk, basically picking up our conversation from
Thanksgiving where we'd left off.  Though we were relatives and had
known each other all our lives, we didn't really know each other at all
and set out to remedy that.  And I had another agenda.  The more I
looked at Richard and the more I talked to him, the more attracted to
him I was.  

Nobody in the family knew it, but I'd always been attracted to boys.  It
probably started when I was born, or before, but I'd really only become
aware of it when I was about Richard's age.  As my friends and I reached
puberty and went from show-me-yours-and-I'll-show you-mine to even more
interesting games I'd always been the most eager participant.  I
couldn't get enough: dicks, balls, pubic hair, asses, jerking off,
cumming, eventually cocksucking and even assfucking.  I loved it all.
At first my friends were as enthusiastic as I was, but gradually, over
the next few years they began to drop away and I realized my interest in
these things was more profound than theirs.  They discovered girls and I
discovered I couldn't care less about girls.  Most of my friends stayed
my friends, but soon they were no longer sexual playmates.  I was at a
loss: i came to find out that there were certain men who were interested
in fooling around with boys, but I didn't want that.  It scared me, and
their big hairy bodies didn't appeal to me anyway.  I was reduced to
jerking off by myself for over a year.  I was almost sixteen when a new
chapter opened.

I was in a park near my house, doing nothing in particular, when I saw
two younger kids I knew slightly.  They were looking at something,
laughing and talking excitedly.  As I approached, they tried to hide
what it was until they recognized me; they relaxed and I saw it was a
Playboy.  They'd found it in a trashcan.  I joined them in looking at it
and one thing led to another, and another.  I wound up back in my garage
with these two twelve year olds, jerking off like madmen. They were very
impressed with my bigger cock, and thrilled to be fooling around with an
older boy.  We became regular sex buddies, and  soon some of their
friends joined in.  As they gradually lost interest, I found a new crop
of younger boys to play with.  For me, this was a perfect situation.
Everybody was a willing, even eager participant.  Everybody was having
fun.  Nobody was being forced to do anything they didn't want to.
Nobody was being hurt.  And I was having all the sex I wanted.

So as I talked to Richard at the pond, sex was never far from my mind.
I glanced at his crotch, wondering what his trunks were hiding.
Wondering how to go about finding out.  I had no doubt I would succeed;
my dick began to stir as I began to picture having sex with Richard.
All I had to do was find the right approach.

It was even easier than I expected.  As I looked at Richard the sun hit
his face and I saw the pale hint of a first-time growth of whiskers
above his lip.

"Hey, look at that!  You're gowing a mustache!  I don't believe it! 

 Richard looked a little embarrassed and rubbed his finger across it.
"So?  What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing's wrong with it.  I'm just surprised."  I looked at him with
what I hoped was a sly look. "What else are you growing?"

"What do you mean?"

I moved my gaze slowly down to his crotch and raised my eyebrows.  "You
know."

He caught on at once and looked even more embarrassed. "Jesus, Brian."

"What?  Why are you embarrassed?.  You should be proud. I'm impressed, a
little squirt like you...."

He smiled, reluctantly.  He obviously was proud.

"So, how much do you have?  You got a big thick bush down there?"  I was
relentless."You got a big hairy eight inch dick and balls like oranges?"

He laughed.  "You're nuts"

"What about my nuts?  You leave my nuts out of it.  We're talking about
your nuts."

He laughed again,enjoying this. "You're crazy.  And anyway, I'm not
talking about them, you are."

"You started it, talking about your big hairy dick."

He was rolling around with laughter.  "Liar.  I didn't say anything.
You did."

"You're the liar. Your dick's probably about an inch long  You probably
don't even have any hair at all down there"

"I do so."

"Liar."

He know I was just teasing and kept laughing. 
"I do."

"Show me."

He stopped laughing.  "What?"

"You heard me.  Show me.  Let me see this big hairy monster."

"No.  And I never said it was a big hairy monster."

"That's OK.  Show me anyway.  I want to see what you've got."

He was serious now, maybe a little uneasy. "No."  He sounded unsure.  I
knew I was close.

"Why not?  Come on.  I'll show you mine."

He didn't respond for a moment.  "Really?"  I didn't answer.  I looked
around and made sure that nobody else was near , then pulled down the
front of my trunks to below my balls.  I made sure he got a good look.
I was sure that to a twelve year old my eighteen year old dick was a big
hairy monster.  He gulped.  "Jesus."

I smiled and pulled my trunks back up.  "Now you."

I halfway expected him to renege, but he glanced around and the pulled
his trunks down like I had.  It felt like my heart swelled as much as my
cock was swelling as I gazed at his beautiful twelve year old dick for
the first time.  He did have some hair, not a lot, but a wispy little
patch on either side of the top of his dick.  His cock was maybe four
inches soft, more than respectable for a kid his age.  I couldn't see
too much of his hairless balls but they looked respectably big too.
"That's really nice, Richard.  Big."

He covered himself up again. "Really?"

"Really."

"Not like yours.  Yours is huge."

"I'm six years older"

We were silent a moment as I pondered how to move to the next stage.  He
did it for me.

"Do you ever....you know."

"What?"

He was embarrassed.  "You know."

I did know but I wanted him to say it.  "What?  You can say it."

"You know.  Jerk off."

I smiled.  "Of course.  All the time.  Don't you?"

He smiled shyly and nodded.  Again he did my work for me.  "Do you want
to....."

I decided not to make him work for it.. "You bet.  Not here though.
Come on."  We got up and headed back to the house.


Part  2 soon