From: organs@backdoor.com (Bruce)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.gay
Subject: Cousin Joey b/b NEW
Date: 27 Apr 1996 03:52:12 GMT
Organization: The Denver Exchange, Inc.

Uploading this for a friend, who wishes to remain anon. Good yarn, I thought.

*****

What you are about to read is a true story. The names have been changed to
protect the innocent ... and the not-so-innocent.


                           --- COUSIN JOEY ---

I used to go every summer for two weeks to visit my aunt and uncle in
Roanoke, Virginia. (Presumably for my vacation; more likely a break for my
parents!)

This was always a real treat for me because Uncle Cecil was a lot of fun:
Besides being very jolly and boisterous (in contrast to my usually quiet
and dour preacher-dad), he serviced a route of vending machines. There was
always a garage-full of junk-treats -- chips, candies, nuts, ice-cream
bars, etc. -- the sort of stuff that as ministers' kids (on a meager
minister's salary) we did not have around the house much.

They had done pretty well; were what I guess you'd consider upper-middle
class, but to me at that time they were "rich" -- built a nice big
split-level house in Roanoke, bought a new car every year, which was quite
a thrill to ride in for a change from dad's old chug-a-lug, second-hand
Ford clunker that he kept for about 12 years until it finally threw a rod.

They seemed to have the nicest of everything. I remember going there with
my Mom once and seeing that Aunt Jean had just bought the Rolls-Royce of
household appliances, a shiny new Kirby vacuum cleaner. It was standing in
the living room, with boxes and boxes of accessories stacked next to it. My
mom gazed at that marvelous sweeper a little enviously, no doubt wishing
she could trade in her ancient, beat-up Electrolux that was missing half
the attachments and that blew out more dust than it picked up.

Aunt Jean and Uncle Cecil had five sons, the youngest of whom was Joey. He
was my pal, despite him being four years older than me, and when I went to
visit them I spent most of my time hanging around with him.

Whenever I stayed there, Joey and I would sleep downstairs in the family
room (fold-out sofa-bed) because that's where the color TV was; Aunt Jean 
was real nice about making my vacation truly fun, and let us stay down
there so we could watch TV at night --- little did she know just *how* much
fun it was...

Joey had big, brown doe-eyes and an unruly mop of dark brown, very curly
hair. He was the first "matured" male I had ever seen naked, except my dad,
who was very modest and did not often cavort naked about the house. And I
had certainly never seen my dad with an erection. Cousin Joey provided that
first visual thrill.

Summers in Virginia were hot and humid so modesty was out of the question.
At nightfall I was in white t-shirt and briefs and Joey was in white briefs
only. He had a really nice body for a 14 year old, very brawny build and
already getting hairy under his arms. I very distinctly recall that trail
of hair leading down from his navel and disappearing under that striped
white waistband...

Well, one night talk turned to sex. I don't recall all the particulars but
remember Joey very exuberantly sharing his obviously exaggerated, numerous
female conquests; telling me about how he liked to lick their pussies and
fuck them. As he was regaling all his sexual exploits, he started massaging
his cock and balls through his underwear. I was astonished to see how huge
the bulge in his briefs was getting. It seemed monstrous in comparison to
the little dent in my drawers, which was also throbbing for some reason.
This was long before I came out, long before I admitted to myself that I
liked boys --- yet I could not keep my eyes off his body, especially the
front of his now-very-extended underwear.

He noticed where I was looking. He pulled down the front of his underwear,
showing me his big, hairy penis. He tried to get me to touch it, which I
would not -- "No! That would make me a queer!"  He said, "No it wouldn't.
You'd just be doing me a favor." I still said no, even though my heart was
pounding and I very much wanted to touch it. But I was afraid he'd tell
someone. And perhaps more afraid to actually act out what I secretly really
wanted to do.

He snapped his briefs closed and coaxed, "Well then, just rub it through my
underwear." I still said no. Then he said he'd give me a quarter if I would
do it. Well, who woulda thought I'd become a two-bit whore on the occasion
of my first trick!

I started rubbing the front of his underwear, and it felt nice. The feel of
those soft, baggy BVDs is still very clear and vivid to me. They were a
little big on him and I could see his cock twitch and pulsate against his
frayed briefs, making a throbbing tent that made the whole front of his
underwear sort of "wiggle" with the pulsating movement of his turgid dick.
I was able to clutch the soft cloth between my hands as I grasped around
the entire perimeter of his cock between my two hands, like a human
baseball bat.

By now we were both sitting in a lotus position, facing one another, our
knees touching. I was rather tentatively pushing at his penis. He said, "Do
it faster!" So I started vigorously grasping and manipulating his cock
through his underwear. He began thrusting his pelvis against my hands --
making his cock slide back and forth inside his underwear -- his knees
pressing against mine and gently rocking me along with his rhythmic
movements.

Soon this treatment was starting to get to him. He shifted his position,
straightening his legs out around me and then bending his knees up,
thrusting his pelvis out so that his big stiff cock was pointing straight
at me through that almost silky-feeling frayed-cotton underwear. When he
moved into that position, his cock was sticking straight out so that the
legs of his stretched-out briefs were very extended. I could see the base
of his throbbing cock and his turgid balls through the leg openings, and
was extremely fascinated at how red and hairy that part of him looked.

He grabbed the front of his underwear and rubbed his dick through it,
displaying that huge bulge for me. He urged "Go for it! Rub it some more!!"
First I sort of tickled the tip of his cock with my fingertips, delicately
stroking it through that sexy underwear that was now a little moist from
the hot, humid summer weather ... and from his glistening perspiration. I
clasped my hands around it again and could feel its throbbing warmth
through his underwear. As I squeezed and massaged his cock through that
damp, hot cloth he pushed himself against my hands in a rapidly increasing
rhythm. He closed his eyes and let his head tilt backward so he was almost
looking at the ceiling as he continued to press against my clutching,
entwined hands.

I remember at one point my index finger accidently slipped inside his
waistband and pressed against his cock. I was startled at how hot it felt.
As flesh met flesh he gasped between clenched teeth. Then he whispered,
"Touch it! Touch it!!" I still would not. Instead I grasped and squeezed
his briefs with renewed vigor. Suddenly he thrust his groin violently, so
forcefully that it pushed my hands away from his underwear. His stiff dick
popped upward and poked out of the top of the waistband. He exclaimed,
"Man, I gotta come!" He hooked his thumb into the striped waistband and
pulled out the front of his underwear so the top of his cock sprang out.

He started very vigorously jerking off. At first he kept his cock partly
outside his underwear. Then as he got closer to his climax he reached down
and stuck his pulsating cock back in, grasping it with one hand and rubbing
it against the inside of his briefs, while he held the stretched-out shorts
open with his other hand. I think his intention was to shoot inside there
so he wouldn't make a mess. He started shuddering and jerking his cock very
hard, inadvertently pulling it out of his briefs again. His face scrunched
up into a tight, almost painful looking expression. He let out a low, soft
groan. His cream forcefully exploded out with a rapid volley of splattering
jets and flew all over his glistening torso, some of it dribbling down
inside the front and sides of his briefs. He pushed his dick back into his
shorts and snapped the waistband, trapping his protruding cock inside. I
could see wet spots and gobs of come all over his chest, shoulders, and
briefs. The tip of his still-turgid, jism-oozing cock made a translucent,
flesh-colored wet spot from inside his by-now very damp shorts. His eyes
were still clenched shut and he sort of groaned, "Oh, ohh, oohhhhh" -- like
that -- after he finished coming.

I was absolutely amazed; transfixed; a little frightened. I had never seen
this before. After he recovered from his very intense orgasm and caught his
breath he said to me, "Now you do it."

I said, "NO! It's gonna hurt!" (It sure looked like it did!) He laughed and
said, "No dummy, it feels good --- reeaaalll gooood!"

My emotions were very heightened and the atmosphere in the den was highly
charged with youthful sexual electricity. Joey folded his calves under his
thighs and leaned back. He thrust his groin out toward me, his cum- and
perspiration-soaked underwear greatly extended outward. The outline of his
still pulsating cock was clearly visible through the wet, white cotton. He
began stroking his turgid organ again, as if to show me how to do it. I
pulled valiantly at myself, imitating his motions, but my little pee-pee
wasn't ready yet -- no matter how hard I tried. I was too young to come,
and could not make anything happen. I felt embarrassed and disappointed
about that and he could tell. He said not to worry about it; the time would
come when I could shoot like that, too.


He went to the bathroom to get cleaned up, and when he came back he went
into the laundry room at the end of the den. He tossed his wet briefs into
the washing machine, then got a pair of clean underwear out of the dryer.
He came back into the den, pulling his briefs on as he walked across the
room, stretching the front over his still very-hard cock. He pushed at his
hard-on a couple of times to adjust it, which was sticking out the top of
his fresh white briefs, and then he gave the waistband a good snap -- right
across the top of his cock, near the protruding head.

He said he needed to piss but could not do it until his hard-on went down.
He sat on the bed and rubbed the head of his dick which was still
protruding out from the top of his shorts. Before long he had pulled the
front of his briefs down and was beating off. In just a few moments' time
he shot another wad -- this time into his cupped hand. He went back to the
bathroom. I heard the mighty sound of his horse-cock finally expelling its
high-pressure load of piss.

He came back into the den. He said, "Sometimes I do that eight or ten times
a day!" I asked why he did it so much. He said, "Because it feels really
good. You'll see." I thought he was still exaggerating, just like he was
about all the girls he'd fucked. I did not see how someone could do
something that intense so many times a day. (Little did I know that in just
a couple years' time, I too would be capable of the same feverish sexual
activity, and would myself be masturbating many times a day).

He switched off the TV and climbed under the sheet. He said, "Now I hope
you're not going to be stupid and tell anyone about this." I said, "Are you
crazy? Who do you think I would tell?" He gave me a playful jab on the arm
and said, "Just forget about it, ok?"

After we went to bed, I lay in the dark for what seemed like hours, pulling
at my stiff little cock, inside my underwear like I had seen Joey doing it,
trying to get it to spurt. That was the first time, in my recollection,
that I masturbated with the intent of coming. I had of course rubbed it
before, but not knowing how -- or why.

-------

(I kept on trying to come for a long time after that. I remember having a
lot of "dry" orgasms, very good feelings, before anything really came out.
And I do very clearly remember the first time I actually came. I was about
12 and was in the attic at our house, beating off while looking at Playboy
magazines that my older brother had packed up there with his other "stuff"
when he went away to the Navy --- I shot a little load out that hit me
square on the chin. I was very surprised, so much so that I exclaimed
aloud, "OH!" -- very startled. I was dismayed to see that some of it had
splattered onto the opened Playboy magazine. I looked around for something
to wipe it up with and there was nothing up there. So I had to take off my
underwear and use it as a "cum-rag" -- then threw it into the far corner of
the attic and stepped back into my cutoffs with no underwear. When I came
down from the attic I was terrified that one of my siblings or parents
would see me and somehow be able to tell that I wasn't wearing any
underwear. I ran into my bedroom and very quickly put on a clean pair
before I got caught! Hmmm...I wonder if those little size-twelve briefs are
still up there in that attic, containing the evidence of my first
ejaculation...)

-------

Future visits with my cousin were always full of sexual adventures, but we
never really had out-and-out sex, just a lot of playing around, he
displaying his big cock through his underwear and talking me into beating
him off. But the furthest I would ever go was to reach inside his briefs
with both hands and stroke his warm dick. I always told him to let me know
when he was going to come because I did not want him to do it on my hands.
He really seemed to like me masturbating him through his underwear;
especially when I would tickle his head through the cloth. That would
nearly always make him want to come right away, so I learned how to be a
tease and not to do that until my arm was starting to get tired. One time
he almost convinced me to suck it but I still did not give in to that.

Once, we nearly got caught in the act. I was sitting on the fold-out sofa
bed with my back against the wall. He was sitting in front of me, tucked
between my legs which had clasped his back tight against my chest and the
top of his warm butt against my throbbing groin. I had my hands clenched
down over the front of his underwear as usual, massaging his cock and
balls. The ceiling light was off; the only light in the room came from the
TV. I even remember what was on -- an old science fiction movie, don't know
the name of it but there was a scene where the actors were being entombed
by giant bees inside people-sized honeycombs! We weren't really watching it
but had it on to cover the noise of our activities.

Suddenly the door leading to the family room opened; the light switch at
the head of the stairwell was clicked on, and we heard someone walking down
the stairs. It was Aunt Jean. Joey quickly leapt up and landed in a chair
before she actually got down into the room, tucking his legs up under his
crossed arms to conceal his big hardon. I snuggled under the sheet,
belly-down, to hide *my* stiffy. I am sure we looked as guilty as could be,
and she had a very suspicious look on her face. She sniffed a couple of
times, as if to see if we were smoking. She said, "What's going on down
here?" Joey said, "Nothin', Ma." She said, "It's past midnight. It's time
to turn off that TV and get to bed." She looked at me kinda funny, then
turned around and went back upstairs, turning the light off on her way out.

Joey turned down the volume of the TV and wriggled under the sheet with me.
This time he lay facing me. He took my hand and guided it onto his briefs,
over his still-throbbing cock. He reached inside my underwear and massaged
my rigid cock -- which by the time of this encounter was fully functional.
This was a couple of years after the first time -- he was willing to get me
off too, since I was able to ejaculate. Besides, I had learned to hold out
unless he agreed to make me come too! (One time along the way he said
something about me becoming a man, asking did I have hair "there" yet? When
I told him I did, he wanted to see. I pulled down my underwear and showed
him my virgin crop of downy pubic hair... He was very congratulatory and
gave me my first hand job by another person!)

After I had reached puberty, he always reciprocated the underwear groping
and masturbating, but usually after I had done him. This one time, the
night we almost got busted, we did it together. We both came at the same
time, shooting our loads onto one another's shoulders and stomach -- and
underwear. I was a little dismayed because I did not have any clean clothes
down there -- all my stuff was upstairs in the guest room. He went to the
dryer and got two pairs of his underwear, tossing one to me. He said,
"These might be a little big but they'll be okay." I slipped them on and
they felt very, very nice against my smooth skin. So much so that in the
middle of the night I woke up with a pounding hard-on and started beating
off again. He woke up and chuckled. He joined me and we both lay there on
our backs, in the dark, side by side, jerking each other off. He stopped
and pulled his underwear down to his knees and said to me, "Pull yours down
too so you don't mess them up." We both came again, and he went to the
bathroom and returned with some wads of toilet paper. We cleaned up the
mess, pulled our underwear back up, he giving mine a playful snap; I giving
his a flirtatious grab -- then we went back to sleep.

The next morning at breakfast, Aunt Jean did not say anything about the
night before, but she had a funny look on her face -- I'm pretty sure she
had figured out what was going on down there, but was too modest to say
anything about it. That evening when Joey and I headed down to the den she
said something like, "You boys go right to bed now, and no horseplay
tonight!" Of course, you know that admonition fell upon deaf ears!

To this day, the image of Joey's long cock sticking out of the top of his
underwear --- and those very early jerk-off sessions with him, are a real
fantasy -- especially when I let my imagination run rampant and picture
myself doing what I wanted to do, but never did, and what I am sure he
wanted me to do: pulling his briefs open and closing my mouth over the head
of his cock and down its hot, long length; sucking and licking him while I
stroke the base of his cock and balls through the outside of his
stretched-out underwear, until he shoots his hot load down my sucking
throat. When I get really bold and daring in my fantasies, I imagine him
burying his face down in *my* briefs and sucking out my sweet boy-juice --
as I well imagine he would have done had I been willing to reciprocate the
"favor."

I thought back then that his cock was very big, and by what I have seen
since, I guess it was -- about eight inches long, not real thick, but so
long that when his erection stuck straight up instead of outward, about two
inches of it would protrude from the top of his briefs. And they weren't
the bikini type, but the good old fashioned fruit-of-the-loom variety,
regular boy's white underwear. I even remember the pair he was wearing that
very first time -- they had a gold-dotted stripe along the middle of the
waistband, and were a rather old and favorite pair, very gold-dotted stripe
along the middle of the waistband, and were a rather old and favorite pair,
very soft and baggy, with a little worn-out hole right at the front where
the seam of the fly was. And there was that very erotic trail of downy
pubic hair leading from his belly-button down inside those worn, white
shorts.

                                   --ooOoo--

A postscript, and a bittersweet resolution of the story:


The last time I saw Joey before I moved out west was when we were about 17
and 21, respectively. This was a short, casual visit, for an afternoon
only, on the occasion of a family wedding. That would have been about four
years after our last sexual encounter together (when I was about 13). I had
stopped making my yearly vacation trips to his house as I got older. You
know, things just changed.

This last time I saw him, he made no indication that he wanted to do
anything naughty, even though I kept fishing for excuses to get us out in
the woods together. Funny how the tables had turned: at first, it was he
trying to coax and seduce me; then when he got older and, I suppose,
decided to forget those early days, seeming to pretend they had never
happened -- never mentioned it again and certainly never made any further
overtures along those lines.

In 1980 I moved to California and did not see or hear from him for a long
time. Then one day, a few years ago, Joey came by out of the blue to visit
me. He had flown out to California on business and decided to look me up
before he returned to Virginia. I was 27 so he would have been 31. He was
married at that time and still looked fine, very lithe and muscular with
dark curly hair. We spent an entire day together, seeing the Hollywood
sights.

At the end of the afternoon I invited him back to my apartment, wondering
if I'd finally get a chance to taste that big cock of his. By that time I
had very much come out of the closet and had made no bones about letting
him know it. He kept allowing as to how he was happily married, whipping
out the obligatory pictures of the new kiddie and wife instead of whipping
out what I *wanted* him to whip out. I had not forgotten who it was who had
plucked my cherry. Even after the passage of more than a decade, I still
fantasied about those first experiences and hoped we could do one for old
times' sake -- and this time, really do it right.

We sat around smoking a joint. He was wearing crisp Levis, and the weather
was very hot that day. I lived in Burbank at the time and it was well over
a hundred that afternoon. He had done some shopping and had gotten some
"California" wear, including some tan O-P shorts. He decided to put them on
since it was so hot. I swallowed nervously when he slipped out of his Levis
and I saw that he still liked to wear those old, baggy white briefs. He had
on a pair of very tattered BVDs -- the waistband was torn from the fabric
in a couple of places and there was a quarter-sized hole along the front of
the leg opening where the fly was stitched to it. He slipped into the O-Ps,
gave their tan waist-band a hearty snap and said, "That's better!" He
flopped down on the couch, sort of sprawling his legs out so I could see
the crotch of those worn-out briefs up the leg opening of his shorts. I was
getting quite hot and bothered and my mind began to calculate just how to
accomplish what I wanted to do...

Finally, heart pounding, I said --- "You know, you owe me a quarter." He
answered, not comprehending, "Huh?"  I said, "Don't you remember that  time
when we were kids, and I visited you in Roanoke over the summer, and you
said you'd give me a quarter if I touched your dick?! Well, I never got
that quarter."

He turned beet red and just mumbled, "Hmmm. That was a long time ago." He
seemed very embarrassed and plainly wished that I had not brought up those
days of yore. I could tell he did not want to talk about it. So I dropped
it and we talked about the weather and what-not.

He left after a little while, with a tense hug and slap on the back -- him
a little awkward and me a little sad. He thanked me for showing him around
Hollywood. Then as he walked toward his rental car he paused and reached
into his pocket. He turned and flipped a quarter to me. He said, "Thanks
for that, too." He gave me a manly wink and "click-click" through his
teeth, got in the car and drove off.

I have not seen him nor had any contact with him since that afternoon. The
last I heard through the family grapevine, he had gotten divorced and
married a couple more times. I have often wondered if perhaps it was
because he couldn't find a wife who liked to indulge his underwear habit...

Anon, 1996