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Subject: Cousin Chris Shows Me The Way – Part 3 Cousin Chris Shows Me the Way By Bottom the Weaver (I can honestly say I’ve been overwhelmed by the responses I’ve gotten from Parts 1 and 2. I’ve heard from a fair amount of people and I’m grateful for every email. I’ve even had a few hot chats with some of you. Please keep them coming. I’m also very open to feedback both positive and negative. I’m sort of groping my way blindly through this story, so suggestions are also appreciated. You can always reach me ail. Even if you just want to chat, I’m always down or up for anything. This is a story about a 16-year-old boy and his 18-year-old male cousin. They engage in some dangerous liaisons, of a sexual nature. If this kind of stuff is not your cup of tea, might I suggest Darjeeling instead? If this kind of stuff is illegal to read where you currently live, might I suggest moving? If you are too young to be reading this, then just wait a couple years. Believe me, time moves faster than you think. This story is released under creative commons. Please consider donating to the Nifty Archives so they can continue hosting stories like this. I hope this story gets you as hard as it had me writing it.) Part 3 � I woke wrapped in the big strong arms of my cousin and birds chirping outside the open window. I felt surprisingly well rested, as if I’d slept for a million years. I could smell Chris’s scent and the smell of sex from the night before as my cheek lay against his resting shoulders. The deep slow rise of his chest behind me meant Chris was still asleep, though I could feel something hard push against my right back thigh. Whatever he was dreaming about it had to be good. I reached down and felt my own cock. I was hard too. I instinctually pressed my ass back and felt him grow against me. Then sounds of rustling on the other end of the house. I glanced down and across at the clock on the wall. 6:15. My mom was up. I froze. Both Chris and I were naked, snuggled against each other, a thin linen bedsheet barely covered us and what little it covered left not much to the imagination. I shifted my body. I couldn’t let my mom see us like this. I’d only come out to Chris, to myself last night. I wasn’t sure if I was ready to come out to my mom, at least not like this. I tried to break away from Chris’s embrace. I had to get back to my room. But Chris hugged me tighter. He let out an early morning groan. “Hmm…” he said, his voice still stuck in the place between dream and waking, “Don’t go…” I couldn’t move. He was much stronger than me. I heard foot steps a few rooms away from me and then I saw along the hallway the kitchen light turn on. “Psst,” I said, trying to wake him, “My mom’s up. I gotta go.” Chris held me tighter, still groggy. He stretched out his leg against mine. “Stay…” he muttered. His shifted his pelvis and now his hard dick was between my thighs. God fuck, I thought, I really want to stay. I could stay like this all day long. I heard the clatter of cups and the low buzz of the coffee maker as it whirred into life. I tried valiantly to wriggle my way out of his arms. He grunted in protest. “I’ve gotta go!” I said urgently. Chris reached up and wiped his eyes, still not letting me go with his other arm. “Go?” he asked, “What time is it?” “It’s just past six. My mom’s already up. She could come in and see us!” I whispered urgently. He rolled forward pinning me to the bed. Still half asleep I was no match for his weight or strength. “Oh, that sucks.” He said, growling in my ear, “I want you here like this. I want you under me.” I panted. More clattering from the kitchen. Did Chris not really care? Did he want my mom to catch us like this? “Chris,” I said, “Please…” Chris, on top of me now, his cock sliding across the crack of my still virgin ass, bent his neck down and ran his tongue down the side of my right ear. “You want me to let you up?” He asked. The smell of coffee started to fill the air. “Yes,” I replied urgently. He leaned down and licked me once more, this time along the nape of my neck. I shuddered. “You really want to leave this? Leave me in this state?” His cock was wet now, and he was tracing it along the edges of my buttocks now, in a large circle. I felt my whole-body clench. Oh shit, I thought. But then more footsteps in the kitchen. She could be here any moment. “I can’t… she can’t…” “Okay,” he then whispered into my ear, and then his voice became a dark growl “But you owe me one.” He rolled off my goose pricked body and I sprang off the bed. I grabbed my underwear from the night before and yanked them on. I was just finishing fastening my shorts when my mom entered from the kitchen, carrying her suitcase. I froze. Oh Christ, I thought. The room was still dark, the pre-dawn sky just turning a low pale blue out the curtained windows. “Greg?” My mom whispered, “Is that you honey? What are you doing up?” I sputtered. I looked down. Chris had somehow miraculously shifted the sheets back up and lay face down spread out on the bed. He looked deeply asleep. I pursed my lips. That bastard. I turned back to my mom. “I…I heard you get up, I wanted to say goodbye before you left.” My mom put her suitcase by the door. “He’s still asleep?” She whispered. I looked at him through the darkness of the room. He was probably grinning into his pillow. “It sure looks like he is,” I whispered back knowing he could hear every word. “Well then come into the kitchen,” she said, heading back. “We can talk there.” As she left, I glanced down at Chris’s `sleeping’ body. I gave him a light punch on the shoulder. “Asshole.” I said. Lightning fast, he reached out and grabbed my arm and yanked me back into the bed. I landed with a soft plop on his chest as his arms enveloped me again. He leaned down and gave me a slow and tender kiss. I couldn’t help but murmur slightly into his open mouth. He then yanked me back up and gave me a swift pat on the ass. “Go talk to you mom,” he said, stretching back out on the bed like a lazy cat. I had to wait a couple seconds for my cock to cool down before entering the kitchen. My mom sat at the kitchen table sipping her coffee and reading the news on her iPad. She looked up and then glanced down at me. She raised her eyebrows and smiled. “You’re really going all in on this new shirtless look, aren’t you?” She said. I flushed, embarrassed. If Chris had given me more time I could have put on a shirt, but it didn’t matter now. I jumped up on the counter and shrugged as casually as I possibly could. “I’m trying things out. Chris goes shirtless too,” I said. “I’ve noticed,” she said, “You’ve really taken a shine to him, haven’t you? You’ve been inseparable since he got here.” It was hard not feel my face redden. If only you knew, mom, I thought. If only you knew. “He’s… he’s cool.” I said, not sure how to phrase the words. “And who’s the one who told you you’d have a good time, hmm?” She said, pointing at herself. She paused at me expectantly. “If you’re looking for a time to say, `You were right mom’ now’s your chance, kiddo.” I rolled my eyes but gave her shy smile. “You were right mom,” I said. “You’re darn tootin'” She said, getting up and going to the fridge. “Mom’s are always right. What do you want for breakfast sweetie? Bacon? Eggs?” “Bacon sounds amazing,” said Chris. He now stood at door frame, wearing his usual morning gear of running shorts and little else. “Well look who’s up!” My mom said, going over to hug him, “Rise and shine. I hope we didn’t wake you.” “I needed to get up anyway. Gotta do my morning run.” My mom gestured at my cousin with the bacon as she began to take out a cookie sheet. “Now see, Greg. That’s commitment. You could learn a thing or two from Chris here.” “Oh, don’t worry Aunt Deb,” Chris said smiling at me, “I’m got a whole routine planned. I’m gonna teach Greg here everything I know.” He winked at me. “In fact, Greg here agreed to join me on my run this morning.” I blinked at him. My mom turned to me her eyebrows raised. “Really? Now that is a surprise!” I glared at him for a beat. He stood there smiling in the door way, grinning at me like the cat who didn’t just eat the canary but flooded the mine with toxic gas, killed all the canaries and ate the miners while he was at it. I turned back to my mom, “Yeah, well… I just, you know, wanted to try it out.” That was a lie. It was one thing to do weight training with Chris but running was something else. I hated running. Hated everything about it. Why would you run anywhere when you could drive or bike, or hell, even walk? My mind flashed back to memories of having to endure the Mile-Run in gym class, my feet dragging in despair by the time I limped past the mile mark, my chest pounding, my teeth aching. I’d do anything for Chris but going on a jog seemed like the opposite of a good time. “You’re trying out a lot of things,” she said, laying the bacon along the cookie sheet. You have no idea, I thought. ———- Later the three of us sat down for breakfast. My mom had made bacon, toast and scrambled eggs. I noticed that Chris studiously avoided the toast but doubled up on the eggs and bacon. There was plenty to go around. Chris and I sat near each other on end of the table while my mom sat at the other end and gabbed away. As soon as we’d sat down, Chris’s right foot linked with my own and as we ate I felt his foot slink up and down and across my left foot as I tried to concentrate on eating. It wasn’t easy. “So, you boys have my contact number plus the name of the hotel and my room number in case anything happens,” she said. “Yup,” Chris nodded biting into his fourth slab of bacon. “If something more serious comes up, you can call up my friend and colleague Dr. Peterson. Greg knows him. Don’t bother him if it isn’t urgent, but he’s there in case you boys need to bailed out of jail or something.” Chris laughed but I didn’t. Who knew what he had planned these next few days? “Of course,” my mom continued, “If you do wind up getting arrested, you’re going to want to stay in jail, because as soon as I get home I’m murdering you both.” I rolled my eyes. My mom wasn’t worried. I was the quintessential good kid. I’d never gotten in trouble, once in my whole life. It’s not that I never felt like acting out, I frankly didn’t even know how. I’d never been to a party. Never drank. Never even thought about doing drugs. My mom never had to set a curfew because I was almost always home alone in my room working on my computer modeling projects. If my mom worried about me, is was probably that as a sixteen-year-old teenager I wasn’t getting into any trouble at all. “Don’t worry, Aunt Deb,” Chris said, rubbing my shoulders, “I’ll make sure Greg stays out of trouble.” “Good,” she said, “I’m counting on you. You’re the oldest so you’re in charge.” Chris stopped rubbing my shoulders and put his hand down. I felt it rest on my thigh. I pushed against his foot in a warning. Don’t, I was trying to say, not in from of Mom. “Now remember honey, Forrest is coming Saturday. There’s an envelope with a check on top of the fridge.” I rolled my eyes. Ugh… The last thing I wanted was to deal with Forrest by myself. “Who’s Forrest?” Chris asked innocently. His hand was traveling up my thigh now. I glared at him silently, my elbows still on the table, still eating my eggs and toast. “He’s the boy who does our lawns. Classmate of Greg’s. Good boy. Hard worker,” she said. Chris turned to me, while under the table, his hand slowly moved to the front of my cargo shorts. My body was too nervous at the situation to get hard. “Friend of yours?” He asked. I shook my head, “No,” I said. “I barely know the guy.” That wasn’t quite true. He and I used to play around together when we were kids, elementary school. But as I got more into books and less into outdoor games we sort of drifted away. When we started going to middle school he, like most everyone else, barely acknowledged my existence. I figured he’d probably forgotten me and so it became an agonizing embarrassment when he started coming to our house two years ago to mow our lawns and other yard work. Often my Mom was gone and I’d have to let him into the back yard or give him his check, which meant he clearly did know who I was. But we never really talked when he was here, and he still never once looked at me when we were back in the walls of the school. Of course, what had been equally frustrating was that Forrest had transformed from a little ragamuffin into this lean cut teenager. He wasn’t one of the jocks per se. He was a weedy kid, one of the guys who hung out more at the skate park or by the dumpsters with the guys in denim jackets. But more than once I’d watched him mow the lawn or trim the hedges shirtless from the bathroom, his super tan almost brown skin tight against muscles built not at the gym but from manual labor and landscape work. I’d jacked off to the sight of him sweating away several times, and always felt guilty and shamed afterwards. He was part of some world and culture I’d never know. He was just one more fruit off a tree I wasn’t tall enough to reach or skilled enough to climb. I was abruptly shaken out of my reverie by the feeling of Chris’s hands fiddle with he buttons on my shorts. I froze, stock still. My mom was now talking to Chris in earnest about other people who lived around the neighborhood while he nodded, his head resting against his right hand and while right next to him, his left was molesting her son. I tried to shift my body away from his wondering hands. “Hey, Greg,” he turned. “Stop squirming. Your mom’s telling a story.” He’d now gotten two buttons down and was going for the third. Mom looked across from me. I stood rigidly frozen, trying not to move. My mother tilted her head as he looked at me with slight concern. “Something wrong Greg?” she asked as Chris casually finished the last buttons from under the table. “No,” I said, trying to keep my voice calm and even. “Everything’s fi-INE!” My voice jumped as his hand dove through the now open fly of my shorts and grabbed my now very hard penis through my underwear. My voice choked. I felt so shameful and wrong about doing this in front of her. At the same time, I couldn’t help but feel incredibly turned on. Why was Chris risking her finding out like this? If she caught him, I had no idea what she would do but I doubt she’d leave us alone for six days. She narrowed her eyes. I was trying to control my breathing. Below the table Chris began to fondle my cock. “What’s going on?” She asked, “Is there something I should know?” I shook my head with as much of a straight face as I could muster. “No, nothing at all.” I said. She looked back at Chris who smiled at her like an angel. She tilted her head back and smiled a knowingly “Okay,” she said, “I think I see what’s going on here.” His hand fished through the tight slit of my underwear. I could feel three bare fingers begin to grip the bare skin of my shaft. I hoped to God she was wrong. She folded her arms and looked at Chris, meaningfully. “I’m going to say this once, and only once Chris. I’ve never had to say it before because Greg here’s a good kid and I trust him, but you, I can tell, you’ve got a little mayhem in you. You’re trouble.” She had no idea. His whole hand had worked through the slit as his fingers worked their way down to my balls, cupping them in his palm. “No parties,” she said, “While I’m gone. If I hear you’ve hosted some rager from the neighbors or god help you, the police, then you’re going straight back to Florida on the next flight, you understand?” Chris nodded his head earnestly. “I swear, Aunt Deb. I’m just going to stay here and look after Greg.” He tightened his grip on my balls. I did everything in my power not to react, not to gasp out loud. I felt like my nails were digging into the kitchen table. “Uh huh…” said Mom with a heavy note of skepticism in her voice, “I like you Chris. I like you a lot, but I work at a college. I know a party boy when I see one. If you find some friends here and you want to host a party, we can talk about it in a couple weeks,” she said pointedly to Chris, “but I have to be there, understood?” She turned to me. Beads of sweat formed at my temples. Chris had let go of my balls and his hand was slowly traveling the length of my dick and back up to my head. I was staring my mother straight in the eyes. “Greg, honey, if Chris here acts up, or invites anyone over, or makes you feel uncomfortable in any way,” she said as his fingers began to spread out all over my cock causing a sensation I can only describe as mind-blowing, “You ring up and tell me, okay?” I stared at her blankly, my mind taken up with the tantric massage my groin was getting under the table. “Okay?” She repeated. I blinked. “Okay,” I nodded at her as Chris’s hand quickened the pace. I willed my face into a blank expression. It was the most directly I’d ever lied to her. I felt both sick and exhilarated. “I will. I promise.” My mom smiled. She totally trusted me. “Good boy,” she said as she scooted her chair out and began to stand up. Instantly Chris’s hand wormed its way out of the slit of my undies shifted back to his lap. He stood up as well as if everything was normal. “Don’t worry,” he said, opening up his arms as she walked across the table to hug him, “I’m not going to take advantage of my little cousin.” I tried as subtly as I could to put my hands on my lap and at least fasten the top of my shorts. He then turned to me, “Come on, dude. Give your mom a hug.” I stared daggers at him. What the fuck was Chris up to with this shit? I then looked at mom who had turned to me expectantly. I stood up a little too quickly, feeling red and hot. My mom, oblivious, hugged my hard across the torso. “Be good,” she said, “I left money in my study. Please budget. There’s plenty of groceries in the fridge so if you spend it all in one day then you’re bum out of luck. Kay?” She stepped back and cupped my cheek with her soft hand. “Have fun.” Over her shoulder I could see Chris smile at me. It was such a shit eating cocky grin. My chest was a whirl of conflicting emotions. I focused back on her. “I will,” I said. “Good,” she answered and then glanced down at me. She stepped forward and whispered in my ear, “Honey, I don’t want you to be embarrassed in front of your cousin Chris, but XYZ. Your barndoor’s wide open.” She stepped back and smiled at me, as if she’d just spared me from some sort of humiliation in front of my cousin. I looked down and said, “Oh, uh… yeah. Sorry.” I awkwardly began buttoning up my shorts and Chris watched on bemused. I frowned at him in irritation. We followed her out into the living şişli travesti room as she grabbed her bags and opened the door. “So long,” she called back, “Let me know if the house burns down. Love you sweeties! Bye!” “Bye!” Both Chris and I called to her as she shut the door. On the other side the garage door whirred into life. We stood there in silence as through the wall the car engine turned on, and eventually pulled out into the driveway. We didn’t look at each other. Just watched the door. I didn’t know what life with Chris was going to look like with my Mom completely out of the house, but right now I was too pissed to get excited about it. As the sound of the closing garage door signaled my mom was well and truly gone, I stormed over to him and punched him as hard I could in the arm. “Ow!” he said, laughing. “What the hell, Chris? What was that all about?” “What was what about?” He asked me his face a mask of innocence. I hit him again. “You know what!” I shouted, “That wasn’t cool.” He faced me and smiled. His broad naked chest seemed suddenly vast and intimidating. His arm didn’t seem damaged in any way. I might as well have punched the car. “It may not have been cool, Greg, but it was Hot. You seemed to enjoy it. You were hard enough…” He reached out for my groin. I took a big step back, “That’s not the point. You don’t do that! Not in front of my mom. Not in front of�” Before I could finish, Chris stepped swiftly forward to close the distance and kissed me passionately on the mouth, his tongue deftly swirled through my open teeth and licked the roof of my mouth. I lost all sense of possession and time. This was a hell of a way to shut me up. I blinked and pushed away, both with my hands at his chest and my head. I broke the kiss off. “That isn’t going to work this time,” I said, still angry, “You can’t just kiss your way out of an argument.” He smiled at me, still holding me close despite my attempts at pushing away, “It’s fun to try,” he said, and then he leaned forward to kiss again. I pushed away again hard, leaning my head back keeping out of his range. Instead he started kissing my neck. They were sloppy wet languid kisses. I felt his tongue glide along side of my neck down my clavicle. I felt myself take in a reluctant breath of pleasure. “Chris,” I said trying to keep my composure and voice as steady as possible, “I’m serious, you can’t just…” and then, “oh fuck–!” As his tongue moved down onto my right nipple, swirling around the areole, his hot breath encompassing the region. I felt his teeth slowly close around the now very pert bud and slowly press down. I moved my hands to his head and instinctively pushed him into my chest. “Oh shit.” I moaned. His left arm cupped me from behind and suddenly his right hand was at my groin slowly but heavily massaging me through my shorts. I leaned back. Whatever anger I’d been feeling was lost in wave of sensation. Even as I lost myself to the to overwhelming feeling of him working on my nipple, my balls and dick being mashed through layers of thick cotton, somewhere in the back of my mind my super ego was shouting at me. This fucking asshole is playing you like a flute. Don’t let him get away with this! Before I could muster up the ability or desire to push him away he broke off, his face now dangerously close to mine. He was still feeling me through my shorts, slowly moving his fingers around, not in any kind of stroking motion but just enough to provide a constant sense of arousal. “Listen, Greg,” he said, “I’m going to teach you a lot of things, things about yourself that you don’t even know yet.” His voice was soft and low. His eyes were dark and intent, flitting back and forth staring into each of my eye sockets. “But if I’m going to do this right, I’m going to have to push you. I’m going to ask you to do things you might not want to do at first, things that’ll make you uncomfortable, put you in situations that will make you anxious. That’s part of the process, you get me?” I nodded weakly and then shook my head in confusion. “But just now, with my mom,” I said. “You need to trust me Greg. Trust that I know what I’m doing. Trust me that I want what’s best for you.” He was staring straight into my soul, “Do you trust me Greg?” I looked down, confused. Leaning against him now, wrapped in his arms, my body pressed against his, his soft gentle voice in my ear. I wanted to trust him, I wanted so badly to continue with whatever we were doing. “I do…” I said, “But…” “There can be no buts, Greg.” He said, his voice more insistent now, “You either trust me or you don’t. I’m telling you right now, I will never knowingly hurt you, but you’ve got to learn to be proud and secure of who you are, what you like, and how to get it. That’s going to take going out on limbs, that’s going to take risks. We’re going to take risks together, you understand?” I swallowed, still unsure. But I nodded. “I guess so… I think.” He pressed me slightly still further into him, his fingers still working my groin. “But I’m going to give you an out, Greg, so listen up.” My ears pricked up. His hands froze on my dick. He had my full attention. “If ever I push you too far, if ever I ask you to do something that you just, in the moment can’t handle, I’m giving you a red card. You just say the words `Red Card’, and I’ll stop. Whatever we’re doing. I won’t judge you. I won’t be mad at you. I won’t guilt you. We’ll just stop and move on, and we can continue your education later.” My brain was still wrapping itself around this so called `education’ Chris was talking about. What all was he planning on doing? “But you only get one,” he said, “Because I don’t want you using it willy nilly. You only get one out, so you better make it count, because if you refuse to follow my orders some other time, some other game, then the lessons end, and we stop with all this. The kissing, the touching, the sexing. Which, if that’s what you want, is totally okay. But that’s your choice. You get one out, one red card, use it wisely.” I blinked. This was a lot of new information to handle. I was both terrified and secretly excited about these plans. What was he going to have me do? What would be so awful I’d risk using a red card? I felt my heart begin to beat faster in my chest. What was life with Chris going to be like? He kissed me again, lightly on the lips, dragging my lower lip back out with his teeth as he withdrew. He then slapped me on the ass and stepped back. “Now, come on,” he said, “Put on some shoes. We’re going running.” ——— I was a little nervous stepping out of the house without a shirt. It was still early, just after seven. The summer sun crept over the suburban flat-topped roofs of my neighborhood washing over the dew-covered lawns. The early Colorado air was dry and cool, even this far into June and I felt the pin pricks of goosebumps all over my chest and down my legs. I’d actually put on one of my oversized t-shirts but when Chris found me in my room he ordered me to take it off. “You don’t want to go running in a baggy shirt like that,” he’d told me, “The fabric will chafe your nipples. You won’t like it.” I didn’t argue, even though I’d seen plenty of joggers wear t-shirts, because Chris was in charge now and I knew he didn’t want an argument. The constant whining that had become routine with my mom wasn’t going to fly with Chris. Plus, as nervous as I was (I almost never took my shirt off in public, even swimming with a t-shirt to protect my skin from the UV rays) the prospect of joining my hot track star cousin in his shirtless jogging ritual seemed slightly titillating. It’s not like I had a choice at this rate. We set out heading west along the curve of the road. There was both a manmade park and a nature trail preserve right next to our neighborhood on the east side of town. It connects to Lory State park, a nature preserve of rolling hills and stone cliff hills and mountains. It felt weird and a little revealing running past the open windows and garages of neighbors I hadn’t seen since I was a little kid. I’d lived in this neighborhood my whole life, but as I’d shifted from child to teenager I’d spent most of my time hidden away, back in my bedroom. I didn’t go out. I barely spent any time outside. Here I was, running past them in the clear air of morning in nothing but my pride and a pair of shorts. Well, “running” might not be the best description. Chris was ahead of me, expertly moderating his running speed to the crawling pace I set as I stumble- jogged behind him. I immediately regretted joining him on the run because my baggy cargo shorts kept falling down. We had a combination lock so I didn’t need keys and Chris told me I wouldn’t want to carry anything in my pockets while we were running, but even with nothing in them the heavy cotton pockets of my shorts kept weighing me down as my pants kept sliding past my already pretty thin waist every time I bounced against the pavemnet, which, as I discovered when you’re jogging: meant every freaking step. As Chris brightly jogged in place practically ahead of me, I found myself having to jog either with my hands in my side pockets or around the waist of my shorts to keep them from falling down. The vision I had in my head of looking like a cool sexy jogger was not coming to pass. I’m not sure it was possible to look more like a dork. Chris, as per usual didn’t once make fun of me or judge. He didn’t do much besides point in the general direction of where we were going. I was doing okay for the first four blocks as we left the neighborhood and entered Pineridge. I mean I still looked about as cool as a walking dildo, but at least I was feeling okay. We hit a long low divot coming into the park, which almost caused me trip over my falling shorts. The slope down was initially a downhill angle, but the path bent up and to the left in a long uphill arch that peaked at a long tall hill. As I took my first step up and looked across at the path before me, I knew I was going to be in trouble. Along the way we ran into other joggers. An older couple in matching jumpsuits. Two teenage girls. A guy in his thirties with a tie-dyed bandana around his head and matching socks. Maybe it was just my imagination but most of them seemed to acknowledge Chris, always just a few yards ahead of me, but also seemed to make concerted pains to avoid looking at me as if I had a rare medical condition like elephantiasis. Eventually I got slower and slower, hampered by both lungs that seemed to breathe in pain instead of air and my perpetually sliding down shorts which I was now prepared to set on fire. As I limped to the summit of the hill, I found Chris leaning against a stone boulder. Before us us a large wooded valley stretched as the path snaked down and around. Large boulder piles surrounded us on the crest while a larger mountain continued north along a sheer cliff wall. “How you doing, champ?” he asked. I groaned and not in a good way. “Champ,” I thought. I hated when people called me that. That’s what my science teacher had called me throughout middle school and every time he said I thought: Champ? Champion of what? What the hell are you talking about, Mr. H? I shook my head dusting off the memories. “I’m fine. I’m doing… fine,” I lied. I put my hand on the boulder he was sitting on and knelt taking breath after deep breath. The cool mountain air felt sharp as my skin radiated discomfort and heat. “How do you DO this?” I asked incredulous after a while. “You want to head back?” He sounded incredulous. “You mean you want to run MORE??” I had been tired the day before the weights, but at least for half of them I got to sit down. I couldn’t believe how much the run was wrecking me. “There’s a whole park out there, man,” Chris said. I looked across at this body. He’d barely broken a sweat. “Chris…” I said. My head felt hot. I was starting to feel nauseous, “I don’t think I can do this.” Chris’s face looked impassive and then he nodded up and down. I feel like he was trying very hard not to be judgmental. “This is…” he began, “This is your first run and… look, you’re out of shape, that’s to be expected. Running is all about stamina. It’s a total body exercise. Stand up.” I exhaled a long breath and stood up. Chris walked over to me and put his palm on my chest. “I want you to close your eyes,” he said. I closed them. My entire body felt like it had been wrung through the dryer. “Feel that,” he said, “I want you to feel how exhausted and tired your body is.” I did. My lungs were still burning and felt my legs and feet ache. I felt him shift around behind me. “Now open your eyes,” he said. I opened them. I looked out onto the valley below. Trees and thickets nested below a low creek as lumpy sheer hills of stone and shale dotted the landscape. “This is the edge of the State Park,” he said, “This is the BEGINNING of your average run. You made it to the start today. This feeling you’re feeling is a point of exhaustion. Because today is your first run we’re going to turn back now, but in the future, I want to remember how you’re feeling now and know that if you stop you give up all this.” The aspen trees, the tops of which were soaked with sunlight as the midsummer sky arched towards mid-morning, clustered in tight little groves. Even though the park had been so close to home I’d only visited a couple times, both on school field trips. With fresh eyes as I looked out onto the expanse of wilderness it was impossibly striking. “You live here,” Chris continued, “This is in your fucking backyard. It’s here for you whenever you want it.” I took in another deep breath, seeing the wilderness with new eyes. “This is the rest of your life, man,” said Chris, “You can’t always get here in one trip. But tomorrow we’re going to come back and the next day and the day after that and each day you’re going to run a little farther, you’re going to get a little deeper. Every day you’re going to push yourself a little further. Soon you’re going to run to the end and back and you’re going to feel great.” I thought back to his question earlier right before our run: “Do you trust me?” And I did. It was nothing but faith. Three days ago, no one on earth could have convinced me to jog out and up to this hill, but here I was. And here Chris was telling me that soon all this would be my playground and as unlikely as it seemed, I believed him. I felt myself cool down, the pain and aches leaving my body. I felt a sense of peace and determination take me. This wasn’t a failure, this was just the first halting step on a bigger longer journey. Chris hugged me from behind and for the first time since he arrived I wasn’t aroused, nor did I sense a hidden sexual agenda. This was the support of one family member, one friend towards another. I felt extremely grateful. “You’re doing good, Greg. Thanks for coming this far.” He let go. I stood standing there for a moment just taking in the landscape. After a while he became aware that he was stretching behind me. “You ready to go home?” he asked. I turned. Chris was bending over his outstretched left leg, his whole torso leaning out, both of his hairy pits glistened with sweat out and open over his taut runner’s frame. Gone were the thoughts of platonic familial love. All I saw now was the body of some hot hunk stretching his limber muscled body three feet away. God, I thought not for the first or last time, he’s so fucking hot. “I can push forward,” I said, trying to sound brave. Chris laughed, “Yeah, you probably could but we gotta lift weights when we get back home and I don’t want you like a limp noodle when we get back. Plus, I don’t feel like carrying you home the last few blocks.” I blushed in shame. He was probably right, but I hated that I was like a kid to him. I wanted to improve. I wanted to prove I could go further. But Chris set the rules and if he said we should go back we were going back. “Fine,” hiking up my ridiculous shorts, “I’m ready to go back.” “Not in those, you’re not,” he said, pointing at my pants. “Half your trouble was those fucking dated cargo shorts. You can’t run in those.” Well thanks, I thought, NOW he tells me. “Ditch `em,” he said, “You won’t need them anyway. We’ll get you a real pair this afternoon.” I frowned. What did he mean `ditch `em’? “These are the only pair I have right now,” I told him. “They’re useless,” he said coming up to me, looping his fingers around my belt loops. “Look how they hang off you. They’re way too baggy.” I nodded. “Yeah,” I said, “I see your point, but they’re all I have.” “You got a pair of undies. Those are fine,” he said. He now began running his fingers along the brim of my underwear. They were same pair he had me put on last night. A blue jockstrap, a jockstrap that literally only covered my cock and balls and left everything else out and in the open. I gaped. “You can’t be serious,” I said. “I can’t run back home in my underwear!” “You can’t run back home in these either,” he said, as he quickly tugged my cargo shorts down. Just the quick movement made them fall an inch and a half off my waste. The backside fell past my buttocks revealing my bare ass to the morning breeze. “See?” I stammered, “But I�” I could feel my cock start to stiffen. Now I really didn’t want to take off my shorts. “Think of your underwear as just a pair of tight running shorts. Nobody will care. And if they do, fuck `em.” I couldn’t tell if he was being figurative or literal with that last part. Chris stepped back and leaned casually along the boulder wall. “I mean, if you want you can call your Red Card,” he said. He stared out at the Lory Park landscape, “I won’t push it any further and you can jog home like that, but I gotta say Greg, I thought you’d last longer than 24 hours…” My chest clenched. So, there it was. Greg wasn’t suggesting I take my shorts off. He was commanding me to do so. And while I could refuse him just this once, I would never be able to say no to him again or risk ending our adventures, my education as he liked to call it. I paused for a beat and then slid my cargo shorts down my thighs. I stepped out of them. I stood in the middle of the mountain woods in nothing but my underwear and sneakers. My cock had gone down a little, but still bulged a bit in front of me, leaving little to the imagination. “Pick them up,” he said, that same deep edge to his voice when he was giving me orders. “Throw them in that trash can over there. I don’t want you littering.” My mind went to my pockets and remembered how Chris had insisted I carry nothing with me. I glared at him in realization. He had planned this. I gritted my teeth. Chris looked back, his beylikdüzü travesti brown eyes stern, “You have something to say, Greg?” I paused, staring at him, then looked down at the shorts. I slowly picked them up. “…No,” I said and began walking to the garbage can. As I neared it, from around the bend I heard the light tread of running footsteps. The blood rushed from my face as behind a patch of trees and boulder pile another jogger came into view. He was stout, only slightly taller than me, but broad with muscles even bigger than Chris. He had dark brown hair and full black neatly groomed beard. He wore a spandex shirt and short ensemble that painted the deeply muscled contours of his body. He must have been in his early thirties I guessed. As he approached, his gaze shifted from staring out in front of him to looking at me. He glanced down and his thick eyebrows raised slightly. If my skin could get any paler it was. He looked back up to me and then over to Chris, shirtless and doing another stretch. I looked back and Chris smiled and nodded his head in greeting. “Hey man,” Chris said casually. The bearded jogger slowed. He nodded his head back at Chris and then turned to look at me. He was jogging in place now. I could feel his deep eyes take in my entire body. His face was an intense blank mask. I had no idea what he was thinking. Was he about to report us? Was he going to yell at us. He took off one of his earbuds and stopped jogging. “Hey,” he said back. He spoke to Chris but was still staring at me. I guess it wasn’t every morning he ran into a naked teenager wearing only a jockstrap in the middle of the woods. “I’m Chris, this is my cousin, Greg,” Chris said laying out the introductions. The jogger nodded slightly, his expression inscrutable. “Juan Carlos,” he said after a weighted beat. His voice was slow and deep and slightly accented. He seemed to be taking in the situation. “I’m teaching him to run. His shorts got ripped so we had to take them off,” Chris explained. If I hadn’t been under direct observation from Juan Carlos I would have rolled my eyes. I knew plenty of guys in my class who deliberately bought shorts pre-ripped. Who did Chris think he was kidding? Juan Carlos shifted his gaze back at Chris. Again, he remained silent. Just stared. The moment seemed agonizingly awkward and I wanted to bolt away and hide behind one of the boulders, but I knew that would make me look like even more of a freak. So, I just stayed put, standing next to the trash can. Chris and Juan Carlos were staring at each other now. After a moment, Chris smiled and called out to me, “Greg,” he said, “Put the shorts in the trashcan.” Once again, his words were laced with that steel resolve. I wanted to talk back, I wanted to complain, but I couldn’t, so I silently if not reluctantly raised my hand and dropped them in the trash. I looked back, Juan Carlos was staring at me intensely. It made me feel deeply uncomfortable but also sort of hot at the same time. Not that there was any way this random stranger too could be gay. Chris had some remarkable talents, but he couldn’t conjure up a porn movie into real life. Another bout of silence as Juan Carlos looked me up and down. Eventually Chris spoke again, “We’re going to be running this route most mornings for a few weeks,” Juan shifted back to Chris, “See you around?” The bearded jogger stood silent. The tension of him not speaking was unbearable to me. I didn’t know how Chris was surviving the unbearableness of the moment. Then for the first time, he smiled slightly and nodded his head. “See you around,” he said. He turned back to the path, put his ear buds back and jogged away. I couldn’t help but watch his tight end bounce in his spandex shorts as he disappeared down the hill. Once he was out of sight I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. I felt Chris’s arms wrap around me and hug me close. “Dude, that was tight. Did you see how into you he was?” I blinked. “What?” I stammered. “That guy. He couldn’t take his eyes off you.” I looked down at my pale thin frame. The blue jock strap tented slightly with both my balls and dick crammed into the little pouch, white straps running along the back of my buttocks. Yeah, I thought, it’s probably because he’d never seen such pale dork mostly naked in the park before. “I thought he was going to call the cops,” I said. Chris laughed. “I thought he was going to bend you over the trash can and take you right there,” he said, “I’m telling you, man. That guy only had eyes for you.” I reflexively scoffed. Even if the guy had been gay, which he did not seem AT ALL, I couldn’t imagine anyone preferring me over the hunk of beefcake that was my cousin. “Whatever,” I said. Chris was teasing me now. I sighed looking back down the path where we’d come. I really didn’t feel like starting to run again, even if a good chunk of it was downhill. We’d probably jogged for a mile and I wasn’t looking forward to another, especially in just a jockstrap. Chris came up behind. “You ready to go back, stud?” He asked while slapping me lightly on the ass. “Chris!” I yelled, through gritted teeth. I tried to swap his hand away. “What’s wrong, cuz? You seemed to like it last night…” He took a step forward and before I could bat him away he slapped me again. “I seem to recall you liked it a lot.” “Cut that out. Someone could see us!” I said. Chris laughed, “Who the fuck cares?” He smacked me again. Despite myself I could feel my cock begin to chub. “Please,” I said, “Stop.” Chris grinned a devil’s smile. He swatted at me again. I darted away, but he still got the tip of my ass. My cock began to strain against my fabric. This was awful. “If you want me to stop, you better start running, bro. It’s not my fault your ass is so fucking spankable.” I began to run away, and he began to jog after me, I was now mostly hard, my penis swaying back and forth against the fabric as I ran. Shit, I thought, someone could come by at any minute. I can’t run back to the neighborhood like this. “You better go faster cut,” I heard his voice behind me. “If I catch up, I’m gonna give you another smack.” I took in a deep breath and ran ahead faster, which granted was easier going down the hill. I ran all the way back to the neighborhood, Chris on my heels the entire way. Of course, I knew he could easily catch up if he’d wanted to. He ran track competitively, but he moderated his distance just enough that if I started to lag, I’d hear his steps just a few feet behind me and pushed myself to keep pace otherwise risk another smack. My cock had swelled back down to a more moderate size by the time we hit the neighborhood, but it hadn’t gone down entirely. As I ran past familiar houses, I just prayed I didn’t run into anyone I knew. Of course, both Mrs. Woodrow AND Mrs. Hart were out working on their gardens. I stared straight ahead as I jogged past, Chris nipping at my heels. He didn’t care. These weren’t his neighbors, this wasn’t his childhood he was embarrassing himself in front of. As we rounded the last corner I saw Mr. Logan standing in a slim open shirt and tight jean shorts watering his trees with a hose. I made the mistake of looking at him in the eyes. But he wasn’t looking at my face. He stared down at my bouncing crotch and then back up to me. I wanted to crawl in a hole. He smiled, his moustache widening showing his teeth. He waved at me. “Looking good Greg!” He shouted as we both sped past. As I approached the house, my exhaustion caught back up to me. My legs felt rubbery. I quickly entered the door code and staggered across the living room, collapsing on the sofa. My whole body felt rung out. I fell across the armrest of the couch, ass up, and planted face first on the cushions. I didn’t want to move from this spot until dinner time. Chris laughed as he closed the front door. “That run really did a number on you,” he said. “Hmm..mm..” I groaned in affirmation through the cushion. Chris leaned over the back and I tilted my head to the side, so I could sort of look up at him with the smallest effort possible. “Take a couple of minutes to get your bearings,” he said, “And then we’ll go to the garage and continue weight training.” I closed my eyes and groaned louder. “What??” I whined, “But Greg… my whole body hurts!” Chris jumped over the seat and plopped near my head as the rest of my body sprawled immobile on the couch. “Yeah,” he said matter-o-factly, “That’s how it is at the start. It fucking sucks. I know. I’ve been there.” He put one foot on the couch next to my face. It smelled acrid with yeast and sweat. He began to undo the laces. “But you have to push through it. It’ll get easier the more you do it. You’re soon going to start craving this feeling, dude. It means you’re making progress.” I willfully rolled my eyes up at him. I found it highly unlikely I would ever look forward to this blend of body-ache and exhaustion. He gave me a genuine smile, as if to say, `I’m sorry man.’ “Ughh…” I groaned again. I didn’t want to be difficult but working out right after my very first run seemed frankly impossible. It’s not that I didn’t want to do it. It’s that I physically couldn’t. “You’re going to do it, Greg,” Chris said, as if reading my mind. He slipped his stocking foot out of his left shoe and rested it on my shoulder, mere inches from my nose and gaping mouth. The smell was powerful. It wasn’t exactly bad, like spoiled food or a fair ground porta potty, but it was very pungent all the same. It smelled like sweaty Chris times ten. “And do you know how I know you’re going to do it?” He asked. I was distracted momentarily by his sock smell before I registered the question. He put other foot on the couch to the right side of my head began unlacing that shoe. “…How?” I asked, curious. Despite myself, despite my exhaustion I felt a little stirring in my groin. Not enough to make me hard, but enough to remind me I had a libido. As he slid his other foot out and placed his right foot on my other shoulder, he leaned down and whispered in my ear, “Because, unlike you, I know you can. I would have rolled my eyes again if I hadn’t been so caught up in the aroma of his sweat soaked feet surrounding my skull. It was more of Chris’s inspirational B.S. I get it, I thought, I can do anything if I set my mind to it. Success if a choice. Carpe Diem. Yadda yadda yadda. These were the same empty inspirational quotes that filled the walls of my English teacher’s classroom. Blow me. His face got closer, I could now feel his hot breath against my ear. His unshaven chin tickled my earlobe as he whispered, “Besides, Greg, I’m not working out if you don’t, and no offense but I didn’t exactly work up a sweat doing that `run’.” I winced. He was right. What had been overwhelming for me was barely a warm up for him. He continued, “Unless you go into that garage with me in one minute, I’m not going to need to wash up which means you, buddy, are gonna have to shower by yourself.” My mind snapped into focus. I flashed back to the day before, to Chris dripping wet, a towel around his shoulders standing in front of me, our slowly softening cocks touching each other in the bathroom steam. He’s suggested we shower together today. Since that moment we’d grown even closer in every sense of the word but showering with my ripped beautiful cousin was still a fantasy I badly wanted to happen. I pushed myself up. His feet fell from my shoulders and he extended his legs along the sides of my torso, eventually gripped my hips with his socked feet. He scooched down, his lap under my head. “Really?” I asked. Chris nodded. “The ball’s in your court, dude,” he said. “This isn’t one of those Red Card moments. Whatever you decide I’m okay with. The choice is completely yours.” I felt his toes wiggle begin to inch their way down my back, slipping under the waist of my jock strap along my bare cheeks. A wave of lucidity cleared my mind. Gone was the fatigue, the external aches of the run. Perhaps gone isn’t the right word. They were still there, but somewhere in the back of my mind. They were in the “sunken place” and my brain felt alive and sharp. I don’t know if it was adrenaline or lust or hormones or a combination of all three, but I suddenly felt laser focused on the choice at hand. And it was my choice. Chris was right: for the first time since we’d been playing our “games”, it felt like the ball was truly in my court. Whether we worked out, whether we showered together. These were my choices. It was up to me to take control. Nobody else was going to. “Well…?” He asked. He’d clearly been watching the gears turn in my head. “What sayest thou, bully bottom?” I didn’t get the reference, so I ignored it. Instead I pulled myself and stood of the couch. “Let’s get sweating,” I said. ————————– It was hard. But not harder than I’d feared. I struggled, struggled mightily in fact. I’d put in a weak initial showing the day before, but now with muscles sore from the prior day’s work-out and a depletion of stamina from the jog I could barely get through the same simple sets and reps I’d completed the day before. I found it took all my mental focus to finish each routine. Even when Chris came up behind and pressed the front of his loose shorts along the cleft of my ass as he guided my arm through bicep curls, even as he spotted me during the bench press and I could make out the contours of his still impressive flaccid dick through the curvature and folds of his running shorts, my mind locked on to the task at hand, determined on completing my workout no matter what. It took my entire will. My entire concentration. It wasn’t until the last exercise that I faltered. Chris has suggested we change up the order of the routine because, as he explained, you tended to overwork the sets that came first and not have enough energy to push yourself hard enough on the sets that came later. This became obvious today as I sat down to do my last round of sit-ups. I felt the last ounce of my concentration and will ebb from both my body and mind like the last grain of sand seeping out the top of an hourglass. Chris knelt on both my feet as I had just done with him during his set. It was to keep my feet positioned and to help me only use my core muscles in the exercise. I managed to complete only four sit-ups before I collapsed backward in utter body shut down. My energy hadn’t been spent, it had been mortgaged to capacity and my body was now paying interest. “Come on, Dude,” Chris said, “Don’t wimp out on me now. Just a few more. You can do it.” I tried lifting my head and then my torso. I got an inch off the ground before I collapsed back. My whole body beaded with sweat. I had never worked so hard in my entire life. “Greg,” he pressed, “You’re so close. Don’t stop now.” My forehead creased with pain. I felt like crying. “I can’t,” I said, as honest a statement as I’ve ever made, “I’m trying but I can’t.” “You can,” he insisted, “Trust me.” I shook my head dumbly. I’d lost the capacity for speech. Chris stared down at me for a long beat. He then took his right hand and slid it below the waistline of his shorts. It was obvious what he was doing as he began running it up and down the length of his fabric encased shaft. “You need an incentive, boy? Is that it?” I leaned my head back against the floor mat and shut my eyes. That wasn’t it. At all. If I could do another sit-up, I would. I’d willed myself through the skin of my teeth through every rep, every set up until this point. It wasn’t a matter of woulds and wouldn’ts. It was a matter of coulds and couldn’ts. I opened my eyes and raised my head to look at the boy kneeling on my feet. Chris had been making his progress. His cock was now semi hard tenting his shorts. He lowered them now along with his underwear to his knees. They fell against my bare feet. His cock sprang free, then hung, still growing between my bended knees. I had it admit it looked beautiful. “You remember this, don’t you” Chris asked as he continued stroking his meat, “You remember sucking on this baby last night, don’t you? You remember how it tasted? You remember how much you begged me to see it?” It was fully hard now, sticking out like a knobby wand. I swallowed. It looked delectable. “It misses you, Greg. It wants you bad, baby. It wants you to kiss it. Can you? All you have to do is lean up and touch it to your lips.” As he spoke and stroked a pearl of precum emerged from the piss-slit of his cock. It glistened in the mid-morning sun streaming through the windows. “Oh fuck,” I both thought and said aloud. He was right. I desperately wanted to taste him again. I don’t know from where I summoned the energy (the ether?) but once again my torso rose, and I raised my head forward to his waiting dick. I could feel my heart vigorously pump blood into every vein of my body. It was unbelievably hard, both the effort it took to raise myself up and his waiting organ. He was still slowly stroking up and down the shaft, making sure it stayed stiff and inviting. I strained forward. I was about an inch away now. The scent of his salty essence hit my nostrils, and I gasped. I felt my body slip and I fell back to the floor panting. “So close, baby,” Chris cooed, “Try it again. It wants you Greg. It wants you so bad.” With super human effort I rose again. The force of momentum helped me this time, and I sensed myself go further. His cock was right here at my knees in front of my face. My whole abdomen shook with the strain but I stuck out my tongue and tasted the base of his cockhead. A drop of precum fell from his piss-slit and fell on my waiting tongue dissolving into a delicious salty splash. I wanted more. I reached further, my lips grazing the very tip of his head. I fell back down. But I got up again. And again. And again. Each time getting further and further. After several tries my lips now managed to get around the flanged head of his penis and about a third of the way down his shaft. I paused, milking the moment in more ways than one. I felt his hands at my shoulders. “Okay, tiger,” he said, “That’s enough. One more go,” and he gently pushed me back. I collapsed back onto the mat. I lay there My whole body told me I didn’t have a shred of effort more to give. As if I had taken a year of anatomy, I was infinitely aware of every muscle group in my body and they were all yelling at me, screaming in fact: No more! “I can’t.” It came out as a hoarse whisper. “I just can’t.” “You’ve got one more. This is fifteen, Greg. This is the last one,” His voice insisted, “Then you can have it baby. It’s all yours. Take what you want. Take what you need.” I leaned my head back istanbul travesti and let out a primordial roar as with one last push I forced my shoulder back off the ground. I blinked away tears and sweat. As I inched forward my entire body spasmed in protest. Still I persisted, inch by hateful inch. “Come on, baby. Do it. You can do it. Taste my cock. Suck it hard. That’s an order.” Another inhuman scream escaped my throat as I pushed harder. Tears of agony and exhaustion streamed own my cheeks as I minutely shifted forward. I lost sense of time and space. My mind tried desperately to block out the chaotic inferno of my senses and do the impossible. I persisted. I felt something fleshy against my lips. I opened my eyes, delirious now. I had done it. I’d completed my set. I’d completed the entire fucking routine. I laughed, despite myself and the agony my body was in. I inched forward once more and closed my eyes again, feeling my lips wrap slowly and tenderly around his mushroom head. My tongue slowly lapped at his slit. If there was a heaven and a hell, I’d found both in one moment. Chris’s hand lightly stroked my jaw. I looked up at him, my sweaty tear stained face still nursing his cock head. He rubbed his thumb up and down my cheek. “My good boy. You’re a very good boy. Good job.” I started crying. They weren’t tears of sadness nor were they exactly tears of joy. They were tears of absolute release. Time and time again this morning, everything had told me what I couldn’t do. I couldn’t go running. I couldn’t work out afterwards. I couldn’t do that last agonizing sit up. My body, my senses, my own life experiences told me repeatedly: No. I didn’t have the energy. I didn’t have the strength. I didn’t have the will. I didn’t have it in me. But all those voices were wrong. I did do it. I did it all. The epiphany was so mind-blowing, so world-shattering, that it had broken me open and all the emotions I had beat back my entire life, stuffed down, purposefully ignored, flooded out of me in a cascade of pure feeling. I looked up at Chris who smiled down like some beatific saint. I could tell he knew what I was feeling, knew why I was crying. He understood. He’d led me to this path. His hand ran up the side of my face and he started stroking my matted sweat soaked hair as I choked back sobs “Shh… shh…” he whispered. “It’s okay. It’s okay. I’m so proud of you Greg. I’m so fucking proud.” I slowly nodded, my tears subsiding. My mouth still nursed the head of his pulsing dick. I breathed deeply in. I felt at peace. I was fucking proud of me too. Chris shifted his pelvis forward and his cock pushed further into my mouth. I was still new to this but I’d learned from the night before to relax my jaw and open my throat as his cock pushed further into my hungry maw. “Oh fuck yeah,” he moaned, “That feels so good. Oh shit, you have no idea how hot you look right now dude.” I glanced down. I couldn’t imagine that was true. My skin blotched with large red patches of heated skin and I was awash in a layer of sweat which lay on top yet another layer of older sweat. My unkempt too-long hair was plastered to my skull and ran down my forehead and into my eyes. I must have looked a mess. But as my eyes raised back to meet his all I saw there was hunger and lust. It didn’t matter what I thought, I realized. What mattered was that he thought I was sexy. That was enough. His cock began to retreat, sliding along my tongue until it was near my lips and the brought it back again. My throat enveloped him as it returned. “Oh fuck,” he said, “Good boy. Good fucking boy. You’re a fast learner, aren’t you?” “Arh-huh…” I garbled through my nose, my mouth completely full. He began sliding his dick back and forth very slowly. The taste of his musk and precum filled my salivating mouth. “I think I’m gonna do one last set of push-ups,” he said. I felt the entirety of him slide out of my mouth. The vacuum left behind was awful. I missed the pressure against the roof of my mouth. With his hand at the base of his dick he began tracing it along the contours of my open lips. “You wanna help me, baby? You wanna help me do one last set?” I nodded helplessly. Just put it back in, I thought pleading with my eyes. If you do that I’ll do anything you fucking want. His right hand gripped the back of my head as he guided his cock back in for another expedition. I moaned in pleasure. “Good boy,” he said pumping his cock in and out of my lips. He took it out again and he pushed my shoulders back. I fell back onto the mat, completely spent but excited for what was to come. He crawled over me and position his handing hard again in front of my face. He held himself aloft in a position ready to begin pushups. After that crazy workout I felt glued to the floor. Gravity had taken reigns of my body. I felt pinned to the mat by my own inertia. “Open your legs,” he said, and I spread them wide. He placed his toes together right below my crotch, I felt the tops of his bare beet slightly press up on my ball sack through the jockstrap. I exhaled a murmur. Chris was in push up position, his feet at my crotch, his crotch right above my head, his arms and chest positioned above me. “You ready, dude?” I just opened my jaw in response. It’s about all I had energy for. He bent his elbows and his body went down. His cock slid into and down my mouth like a glove. “Oh shit, yes,” he groaned. I breathed deeply through my nose as it slid down, about halfway down his shaft. It hit the back of my throat, but I was too spent for even my gag reflex to kick in. Instead I loosened, and he went a bit further. “Oh, fuck…” He pulled back up, his cock almost rising out of my mouth but not quite and went back down. I laid back and took it relishing both the chance to not move a single muscle in my body and the feeling as his cock slid up and down my throat. “I’m going to go deep dude, think you can handle it?” I gargled in response. He pushed further, and I felt it go past my uvula, past my tonsils. I felt his trimmed pubic hair at my nose, “Oh fucking Christ,” he moaned, “Oh shit, you are such a good fucking boy. Shit.” He slid a little way back up and then plunged down again. I could feel my own cock, leaking itself strain against my jock strap. I was just as turned on as he was. I absently began to move my hand to my dick. “Don’t fucking dare,” his voice shouted. He was pumping now into my gaping throat as fast as his elbows could perform the pushups, “You don’t touch yourself until I tell you to, boy. You fucking get it?” I moaned louder. I was so desperately horny. I arched my pelvis up and felt the tip of my cotton clad cock slide over and between tops of his feet and ankles. I began slowly began rubbing myself back and forth between his feet. “You fucking horny, baby? You like that, sliding that ginger cock between my feet? He pressed his toes upwards against my balls. I whimpered in pleasure through my nose and his cock dove once more into my throat. He had given up the pretense of doing pushups now and was eagerly fucking my face. He pounded rhythmically, and I felt his cock head hit the back of my throat again and again, entering and leaving. I was in ecstasy. My own hips were bucking wildly. The jockstrap was tight and there was only so much room for my cock to grow. I was on the edge, but I couldn’t get enough stimulation to stay anything more than hard and hungry. Chris started panting heavily. “Oh shit, dude, oh shit,” he growled. He was panting now. His own workout had already covered him in a layer of sweat but he was now dripping on me, his perspiration dripped upon my mostly naked body. He was frantic now, grunting wildly like a mad man. “Of fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” he screamed, “I’m gonna– it’s coming, I’m fucking, oh fuck!” He whipped his cock out of my mouth and sat back on my belly, wildly beating his meat. I leaned my head up as he kept moaning. “Shit here it comes, baby. Here� oh fuck! Fuck!” He shot his first load. It jettisoned out past my forehead landing somewhere in my hair, the second landed on my chin. He sat in front of me panting wildly, milking his fat cock as pools of cum fell and collected all over my neck and chest. It was one of the hottest things I’d ever seen. My own hips were still humping the empty air. I so desperately wanted to cum, to join him, but his legs now pinned my arms back and all I could do was watch and fruitlessly try to shift the jockstrap fabric over my aching dick. He let out a large happy breath and then took his hands and started rubbing his juices all along my chest and into my skin. He then scooted forward, his cock now to my chin then mouth. It was still leaking cum. “Clean it, boy,” he commanded. I opened my jaw and stuck out my tongue. He took my head in his hand and lowered it down gently onto his dick. I was now practiced. I took it all the way. “Oh fuck, yes,” he sighed “Clean it good baby. Fuck that’s right.” I drank the last of his cum as I felt him slowly deflate in my mouth. After about four pumps in and out he took it out. A slender trail of slime and saliva trailed from his cock head to my lower lips. It felt like paradise. He leaned down and kissed me hard and then eased into a gentle massage of my tongue. He broke off and smiled, stroking my hair. “I think that’s how I’m going to have to start doing my pushups from now on,” he said smiling at me, “You down for that, babe?” Babe? Nobody had every called me that. It felt nice and warm. I smiled back and grinned happily. “Sure thing, cousin.” He kissed me again tenderly and stood up. I lay back sprawled on the mat. He down at me and laughed. My entire body was drenched with more sweat and cum than I had collectively ever had on my body. “God, we wrecked you, didn’t we? You are fucking filthy.” I smiled back and laughed. I absently raised my hips up and humped the air again. I was still painfully hard. “Come on,” he said, offering me his hand, “Let’s get you in the shower.” ————– Chris had to more than help me up. My entire body was spent, and he helped guide me through the living room and to the bathroom. My head was foggy and weak, as were all my major muscle groups. Once in the bathroom he turned on the shower and pulled down my jock. My hard-red cock popped out like a meerkat from its hole. It was oozing with precum and Chris lightly wrapped his hand around the shaft and pumped very slowly twice. I let out a soft high moan, my arms to my side. I knew I couldn’t touch it myself. “Oh, you are so fucking ready, aren’t you boy?” He asked. I nodded weakly. “Uh huh…” He smacked my ass and said, “Get in the shower. Cousin Chris’ll take care of you.” I walked zombie-like into the shower. I stood in front of the spray, feeling the hot water pelt my body like rivets of pounding needles. It felt incredible. My muscles softened and basked in the high-pressure massage of the water raining across my chest and down my legs. I heard footsteps behind me in the tub and the sound of the glass partition sliding closed. Chris stepped behind me and I leaned against his broad naked body. “You worn out, boy?” he asked. “Cousin Chris wore you out, huh?” “Hmm mm…” I agreed, just concentrating on the feel of the water and the warmth of his chest behind me. I could feel his hung cock sway slightly above my ass cheeks. I heard him take a bottle of gel out and squeeze it into his hands. He then began rubbing my chest, soaping it up into a lather. “Feels nice boy? Your chest covered in my cum?” He asked. I nodded back. He took a finger and began circling around my nipple. I let out a moan. “Oh fuck, dude. I love it when you do that. I love making you moan.” As his other hand soaped my lower abdomen he began pinching my nipple as I leaned against his chest. My cock throbbed in front of me. I moaned again. “That’s right baby, moan for your cousin. Nobody’s here. Make some noise.” I moaned once more, loader this time. He stopped and added more soap. “Raise your arms,” he said. I did as I was told. He stuck his face in my right pit and ran his tongue along the inside where my soft teenage hair, slick with sweat and grime was matted to my skin. It tickled but felt erotic at the same time. “Oh, shit dude, you are ripe.” He said. He began to softly lather my pits, first the right and then the left, licking them first: bathing my arm pits in his tongue before he coated them in soap and water. With my hands still above my head, he began soaping up my chest with both hands, wiping away the cum and sweat and the grime of the morning. I felt it all leave in a hot weary slime as it ran down my body chased by the soap, down my chest, my legs and emptying into the swirling drain. His hands slowly approached my groin and I felt his hands grasp my balls. I shuddered. I was unbelievably hard. “Ooh, you built up a nice load there cousin?” he asked rolling my tight balls around in his thick fingers, “You going to cum nice and big for me.” “Yeah,” I murmured lost in a daze of exhaustion and lust, “I want to Chris, so badly.” “Don’t worry,” he whispered in my ear and he slowly ran his hand along my shaft and up my head, “I’m gonna let you come real soon, babe.” I moaned as he soaped up my dick, nice and slick. His other hand began soaping up my back, pressing against my tired muscles and I let out another moan, this time in pleasure at the back massage he was giving me. “Feels, good, doesn’t it baby?” I nodded, lost in my own world. After the agony of the last couple of hours this shower felt like a dream. He kneaded and worked first one and then the other shoulder, all while stroking me with his other hand at an agonizingly slow pace. All I could do was let out little high sighs, sounds released from my throat unbidden caught between a moan and base exhalation. “How well do you clean your ass, boy?” He asked. His voice gruff in my ear. I furrowed my brow. I usually just ran a bar of soap up there and across and rinsed it out. ” “I just use soap,” I said not sure if I understood the question. “You clean both the outside AND the inside?” he asked. My frown deepened. I was confused. What was he talking about. He took his hand off my dick and added more soap to his hand. He started massaging my buttocks as he placed his left hand back to the base of my cock. He held it there. My penis bobbed up and down in front of me timed to the pulse of my heart. As he went further and further down my crack, his slippery fingers began to circle my hole. I moaned once more in pleasure. Even though I’d watched gay porn, I’d never really seen my asshole as an erogenous zone. I felt dirty thinking about it or even touching it. Poo came from there. The thought usually disgusted me, but the feeling as his wet soapy finger ran up and down my bud gave me chills. It felt amazing. “I’m going to clean out the inside now,” he said, “You okay with that, cousin?” I nodded lost in bliss. If I had the wherewithal for speech I would have begged him to continue. Luckily, he got the idea. I felt his finger enter me. It was confusing at first. I’d never had anything enter my ass before. My sphincter automatically tried pushing him out. He ran his left hand again along my shaft. “Relax,” he whispered. “Just relax. Let it through.” I willed my ass to unclench and I felt myself loosen. He pressed further, and I felt his start to stroke the inside of anus. I let out another moan. It felt incredible. He pressed further knuckle deep, and I bent over instinctively giving him a wider birth. He began moving his finger in and out, my sphincter occasionally squeezing back at him but then relaxing and letting him through. I let out another moan. “You fucking like that boy? You like getting cleaned out by your Cousin Chris?” I moaned once more in response. “Fuuuuck… Yes…” I hissed. I felt another finger enter. I was tight, and I barely let him through, but he got both in and started sliding them in and out. I felt like I was going to explode. “You ever put anything up your ass?” He growled. I shook my head no. I was panting now. The steam of the shower was filling my lungs. It was hard to catch my breath and I felt deliciously light headed. “I can tell,” his breath hot against my ear, “You’re so fucking tight, it’s incredible. Feel that Greg, feel that. I’m going to go deeper now. Pay attention.” Both of his fingers slid deeper now down to the knuckle and I felt him hit something deep within the recesses of my ass. It struck me like a bolt of lightning. “Oh fuck!” I shouted. “Oh fuck!” He held me tighter against body as his fingers slid back and then hit the spot again. “Oh Jesus! What… What are you doing?” “That’s your prostate, Greg. That’s what we call the sweet spot. Feels good doesn’t it?” he asked. I could barely talk. I let out a deep moan, letting it out from the inner bowls of my chest. “It feels incredible!” I shouted, “Fuck! Sweet fuck!” I felt his hand return to my shaft. He was squeezing it. I whelped. I was on fire. He started finger fucking my ass in earnest now. I let out sharp moans every time he hit the spot. “You going to cum for me now boy? You going to let it all out?” I could barely answer. I could barely form words. All I could do was pant and welp. I cried out in ecstasy. His left hand started moving faster pumping me. I felt a well inside me begin to rise. “Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit.” I cried. “Cum for me, Greg. Cum for me. Cum for me now.” “Gahhhh!!!” I screamed. My cock tensed and jet upon jet flew from dick. Chris continued to pump away as I had one of the most intense and sublime orgasms of my young short life. He held my chest back and I leaned back against him as spasms of cum continued to explode from my cock. I shuddered, as spasms of pleasure shook my body. “Good boy…” he murmured against my head, “Good fucking boy.” He withdrew his hand from my ass. I felt my ass lips close tightly around him and closed as the last digit left my colon. I was still gasping. Occasional spasms jolted throughout my core. “Oh fuck,” I panted. He soaped up his hands and proceeded to soap himself off. I leaned against the shower wall and closed my eyes. Before I knew it, he’d turned off the water and led me silently out of the shower. I stood, my body both strangely numb and ablaze with feeling, as he toweled me off. He then picked me up, my entire body cradled in his arms and he carried me off to my room and laid me down on top of my bed. I was so tired. I was so very tired. He stroked my chest lightly, as I lay there naked and completely spent. “Sleep,” he said, “Sleep you sexy thing. I’m going to run some errands, but I’ll be back in a couple of hours.” “Okay Chris,” I whispered back, “I’ll be here. I’m just gonna… I’m just gonna…” I could feel sleep overtake me like a deep warm blanket. “Shhh… Shh… Get some rest. Because when I get back we’re going shopping.” He then backed out of the room naked as I closed my eyes and fell into darkness.

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