Date: Mon, 24 Jul 2006 18:02:49 +0000
From: callmejack@comcast.net
Subject: Family Relations

FAMILY RELATIONS

By

Jack Edwards



This work of fiction depicts sex between male cousins and later will
portray sexual acts between other members of a family. If this offends
you or if you are under the legal age for reading such material in your
geographical area, or if you live in an area where such material is
prohibited, move on.

This story is copyrighted. Don't touch it except to read and enjoy
without contacting the author.

Comments from readers are gladly accepted. Email me at
callmejack@comcast.net





Walt pulled open my shirt. His rough hands moved across my chest until he
found my nipples.

       "What are you doing?" I asked.

       "Warmin' you up for something good," he said. "Somethin' damn
good."

       The pressure on my nipples began to take effect. An electric buzz
shot down into my crotch. An instant hardon resulted from his playing.

            "Hey," I said. "Should we be doing this?" I asked.

            He grinned his wicked grin. "You're just askin' that
because your Daddy would want you to. Isn't the right preacher boy?"

            I leaned back against the barn. I was serious in my question.
In 1951, guys weren't supposed to play like this. My dad seemed serious
about me being a preacher although that was the last thing I wanted to
do.

We always came to the back of the barn when Walt got horny. There wasn't
any safer place on grandpa's farm. There was the tree house, of course,
but that was too close to the main house. There was the hayloft, but even
dropping your pants in a haystack proves painful occasionally.

            "How come you always like it when me, your older cousin,
does things like this to you?" Walt inquired.

            My sixteen year old body always responded to his touch. After
I entered puberty, it took Walt only one time alone with me to know how I
responded to his touch.  Hell, he didn't even have to touch me. All it
took was a few choice words. This time it was a little more difficult.

            "I like this because everyone else says it's wrong," I
responded. "I'd like to try this with other guys."

            "You're queer," he said

            "You made me that way," I answered. "The first time you
took me up in the tree house and tried to damnedest to fuck me you made
me queer. I've liked doin' this ever since."

            Walt stood and raised me to my knees. He lowered his pants.

            "Come on and suck me," he said.

            "No, it's wrong," I answered

            "You know you want to suck me," Walt said.

            "Maybe not anymore. Maybe I'm tired of all giving and
getting," I answered.

            "What do you mean by that?" he asked

            "How many times have I sucked that skinny thing?" I asked.

            "Shit, I lost count two years ago," he said.

            "How many times have you sucked me, or even jacked me off,"
I asked.

            Walt remained silent for a minute. "You know I don't
suck."

            "Then neither do I," I replied.

            He pressed his cock close to my mouth.

            "Aw, Come on, Sid," he said as he stepped closer. "You
know you want this."

            He held his cock less than an inch from my face.  It was so
distorted it looked like a one eyed snake. He rubbed his cock against my
mouth I knew then that he'd win...

            "Come on," he said urgently. "Our dads will be looking for
us pretty soon. It's almost time to leave."

            He stepped closer, I opened wide and took the invading rod
down my throat. He moaned as I moved my tongue under throbbing rod. His
pushing became urgent not much longer now.

            "Come on, Sid," Walt whispered. "Use that magic tongue of
yours."

            I felt his cock grow in my mouth. I prepared to take his load
down my throat.

            "Sid, Walt," It was Uncle Jake.

            "It's time to go," Dad called

            "Shit they're closer than we thought," Walt said.

            Walt pulled out quickly. Even if he had he couldn't have
been more accurate. Cum oozed down from my forehead to my chin.  At the
worst possible time Dad and Uncle Jake walked around the corner of the
barn. They stood staring at us as Walt tried to shove his cock back in
place and I stood there wiping my face. I looked down and began to button
my shirt. Dad turned and walked away. I knew I was in for it. When my
father stayed silent I knew all hell was about to break loose.

            "You want me to talk to him?" Uncle Jake asked.

            "No thanks," I said. "I'll probably be grounded until
I'm 21 but I know he won't hit me.

*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*

            Dad sat quietly as he pulled onto the road leading away from
Grandpa's farm. We spent every Sunday with Grandpa. He expected us to
since Dad was the only one of Grandpa's four sons that visited him on a
regular basis. Occasionally Uncle Jake and Walt showed up, and on
holidays the rest of the family put in an appearance. Today was one of
those Sundays when Uncle Jake and Walt came to visit. I was happy, but
now when I looked at dad driving down the road away from Grandpa's farm
I felt weak. Dad saw me with cum with cum on my face while, Walt panicing
tried to put his tool back in his jeans: What a way to end the weekend.

            When we arrived at the main road, Dad turned right instead of
left. We were headed toward Pineville, Dad's home town. When we'd
traveled about a mile, we pulled over. I looked at Dad with a questioning
glance.

            "We need to talk," he said. "There's a lot we have to say
to each other."

            I sat quietly waiting for Dad to say something.  Finally he
spoke

"How long have you two been doing this?' Dad asked.

"About two years," I answered. "I'd never lied to my father and I
wasn't about to begin."

Again silence prevailed. I felt like it was my turn to say something.

"Please don't blame Walt," I said. "It was my idea. I really like
doing that."

Dad turned and looked me in the eye. Not one glimpse of anger showed in
his face.

He spoke evenly and quietly. "I'm not blaming you or him, and I can't
blame either one you for being who you are."

Now I was puzzled. What did Dad mean?

"When you were eight, I first noticed how you looked at other guys. I
ignored it because you wanted to be a minister."

"You and mom are the ones that want me to be a minister," I answered.
"In fact she and I had a big argument about that the day before she had
her heart attack."

"She never mentioned that to me," Dad said. "I told her outright the
same day, that I didn't think you wanted to be a minister."

Dad started the engine and headed on toward Pineville. "We really need
to talk."