I dreamed Ollie was sucking my dick, slow sliding around the shaft, nursing, his saliva running in rivulets to pool in my pubes. It felt so good I wanted to pee. Wait, what? Maybe I wasn’t dreaming after all. Cracking open one eye, I looked down my body to find my cousin kneeling between my legs, bobbing up and down, one hand cupping my balls and the other wanking himself, using the same sweet, languid rhythm on the both of us. So nope, not dreaming. I spread my legs wider, stroked through his damp mullet, and he glanced up at me, holding my gaze as he swallowed me to the root. Groaning, my head fell back on the pillow, and he snickered around me. I let him suckle for as long as possible, hoping for a nut before a quick dash to the toilet, but the intense sensations lost out to my overfull bladder and I reluctantly pushed Ollie away.
“Sorry, cuz,” I apologized, “it felt awesome but I gotta pee and don’t wanna go in your mouth.”
He made a moue of revulsion. “Ugh. No offense, cuz, but I don’t imagine even your piss would taste better than his.”
Appalled, I asked, “Is that something he likes to do?” I’d mostly come to grips with the idea of Uncle Gil using my mouth and ass for sex, his peeing down my throat was a dealbreaker and a hill I’d be willing to die upon.
“I made him mad one day, said I wasn’t gonna do him anymore, and he almost drownded me. He never did again though,” Ollie said with a touch of pride, “not after I puked all over him. He pees in my butt sometimes after screwing, but that’s mostly just to remind me who’s in charge.”
I couldn’t fathom how which orifice the man used should matter but, hoping Uncle Gil never saw fit to turn me into a urinal and feeling a bit green at the suspicion he probably would, I concentrated on the present. “I need a shower, I only grabbed a quick one in the cop’s locker room yesterday.” And didn’t even have fresh boxers to put on after, I thought ruefully, gazing at the same pair I’d been wearing for—three days now? Four?
“You can walk naked to the bathroom,” Ollie said, noticing my disgust. “He ain’t awake yet and wouldn’t care anyway. He says we’re all guys here, who gives a shit.”
“It’s not that.” I hesitated before confessing, “I only have a couple changes of clothes and they’re all dirty. Do y’all have a washing machine?” I hadn’t seen one but Ollie blew away my faint hope by shaking his head.
“Naw, we go to the laundromat on Sundays, but he’ll probably take you to the store after he gets paid and he’ll buy you plenty then.”
“Doesn’t help me today,” I muttered.
“Reckon it don’t.” Ollie eyed my build, slimmer and more compact than his own. “I don’t think any of my drawers would fit you, but if you don’t mind going commando I’ve got some shirts and shorts that are super tight on me and he won’t let me donate to Goodwill yet.”
“I’d appreciate it,” I said gratefully, and wondered if the idea of me wearing his clothing was as appealing to Ollie as to me.
He fished some out for the both of us, not bothering to put his on yet either, giving me moral support for a naked walk through the trailer. As he reached past me to open the door I inhaled his scent, soapy and squeaky clean, and recalled his mullet had been damp under my stroking fingers. The realization gave me a pang of disappointment; although the notion didn’t occur to me until that very second, showering together would’ve been nice. The sharp, enticing aroma of freshly brewed coffee hit my nose as we crossed the front room but before I could remark upon it thunder boomed, shaking the entire metal structure, and a fresh torrent of rain drummed on the roof.
“Great,” Ollie mumbled, so low I almost couldn’t hear him under the racket. “I was hoping we’d be alone this morning, cuz, but if it’s stormy he won’t go to work. It’ll be a three-nut day too.”
Another pang of disappointment; I’d been looking forward to some alone time with him as well. “What do you mean, a three-nut day?”
“Usually I do him twice, a bj before work and a fuck at bedtime, but if he’s staying home he’ll wanna cum after lunch too. That’ll probably be when—” Ollie paused, and I caught the gist of what he didn’t say: when he takes your cherry. After a moment and changing the subject, “Don’t stay too long in the shower, he’ll jump right in when he wakes up.”
I assured Ollie I’d hurry and closed myself in the tiny bathroom. As I soaped myself under the amazingly strong and hot spray I finally had a moment to consider my situation. Uncle Gil was, to be frank, a nightmare, but I was still grateful he’d taken me in—it could be worse, after all, I could be dealing with a constant parade of strangers who’d fuck me without caring for my welfare. But it was Ollie, I decided, who was the real saving grace here. I truly liked my cousin, with an intensity bordering on crush levels, and I yearned for the chance to bond to him, as family, as brothers even. He did have one habit I’d already begun to find annoying, however: no matter the subject but especially in regard to sex, all conversational roads led back to his father. It was only to be expected, I supposed; Uncle Gil and this trailer were undeniably Ollie’s entire world. I appreciated his counsel, don’t get me wrong, but I still resented Ollie’s unwavering paternal focus. I was here now though, and I resolved to give my cousin other things, other people, to think about.
It just wouldn’t be today. I startled as Uncle Gil threw open the shower curtain, naked as the day he was born. “Lord above, boy, you didn’t hear me pissin’ like a Russian racehorse out here? Git your ass out, don’t use up all my hot water or I’ll whip your ass. Don’t look so embarrassed, we’re all guys here, who gives a shit.” He waited impatiently, my feet barely touching the mat before he shut himself inside. Not wanting to be there when he finished, I hurriedly toweled off and dressed. Ollie’s clothes were large on my skinny frame but not impossibly so, and he looked over at me and smiled when I joined him in the kitchen. He didn’t seem to need much help preparing breakfast so after setting the table I watched him work while leaning against the sink sipping black coffee—you easily acquire the taste when there’s not much money for groceries but your mom’s a speed freak. I’d learned over the years to do for myself but Ollie’s game was a whole new level, flipping eggs and stirring out bacon gravy with a deft and graceful touch. His golden-brown biscuits had just hit the table when Uncle Gil came out, wearing yet another wife-beater and a ratty pair of shorts, clearly not standard painter’s attire. I again complimented my cousin on the food and we ate in silence for a few minutes before Uncle Gil spoke. “Heard ya’ll’s headboard thumpin’ hard last night. You didn’t fuck him, did you, Ollie, after I warned ya not to?” As if this were normal mealtime conversation; hell, around here, it probably was.
My cousin waited until he’d swallowed and patted his lips before answering. “No sir, I didn’t disobey you. I let him do me instead.”
“Oh. That’s okay then. Did ya like it?” he asked me.
“Um, yes? I mean,” at Uncle Gil’s glower and Ollie’s soft kick under the table, “yes sir, I did.”
“Figgered ya would. Ollie’s got a nice hole, broke in but not wore out.” My cousin smiled into his eggs but didn’t comment; he didn’t have to. Uncle Gil continued, “I don’t care what the two of y’all do ‘twixt yourselves, but what goes on in this trailer stays in this trailer, y’hear?” He wasn’t talking just about us boys, but I’d already figured this much out and nodded in agreement. Satisfied, Uncle Gil veered his gruff conversation to my clothing. “I’ll take ya to Walmart on Saturday, get ya some clothes of your own so you don’t have to wear hand-me-downs, we ain’t that fuckin’ poor. Prolly take a few weekly trips to get everythin’ ya need, but we can at least get started.”
After breakfast Ollie and I cleaned the kitchen while Uncle Gil plopped in front of the tv with a second cup of coffee and fired up his first bowl of the day. I’d just dried and put away the last pan when my uncle called my name, and I glanced over to see he’d pulled his ratty shorts off and was waving his half-hard in my direction. “Get over here, let’s see what Ollie learnt ya.” My cousin gave me an encouraging nod. He busied himself pouring another coffee for himself but I still felt his gaze upon me as I knelt between his father’s spread legs. Uncle Gil hunched his hips impatiently, so I leaned forward to take him in, remembering at the last minute not to use my hands, and swallowed to the root on the first stroke, hoping to avoid another face-fuck as in the truck last night. Uncle Gil grunted in surprise when I buried my nose in his pubes, and I felt a small prickle of satisfaction then a bigger one of gratitude to Ollie. Uncle Gil’s prick hardened to full as I came back up, slavering my tongue on his undershaft, then swallowed again. He put his hand on the back of my head and I tensed but he didn’t use extreme force, only a light but firm touch to show where he wanted me to go. Though he’d just showered a spicy muskiness permeated the taste of his cock and pre, jarringly different from my cousin’s sweet tang, and his ginger pubes were pointier, sharper than Ollie’s soft blond tangle. Still, the experience was not entirely as unpleasant as I’d dreaded, and I felt a certain gratification when after mere minutes my uncle unloaded down my throat with a satiated grunt. “Better,” he judged as I sat back, wiping my lips with the back of my hand. “Just need some practice, you’ll do fine.”
Ollie smiled and gave me a thumbs up as I stood, and I noticed with some amazement I’d gone hard in my shorts; sucking my uncle off had somehow aroused me. I guess watching had aroused Ollie too, as he was idly rubbing at his own crotch. Seeing the direction of my gaze, Ollie raised an eyebrow and said a single word. “Ninety-six?”
“Sure, cuz.” Hardly believing my own daring, I continued, “Uncle Gil did say I needed more practice, after all.”
Less than a minute later we were naked and curled face-to-crotch in our bed, ninety-sixing with gusto. After Uncle Gil’s muskiness Ollie’s fresh, clean aroma and taste were a treat in my mouth. Not in any rush, we edged each other, sucking until the pressure built and our balls started drawing up then backing off at the last possible moment, until at last we both popped at the same moment, spilling our juices, and I savored Ollie’s dry salty sweetness even as he nuzzled for the last drop of mine. After, we resumed our cuddle, my head on his shoulder, and we talked, getting to know each other better in a more traditional sense while the storm blatted down outside and the tv blared in the front room. I told him about all the troubles with my mom, about being on the move for years at a time, dealing with the varied drug dealers and pimps and whores of her lifestyle, and about the niggling and constant fear of being turned out or abducted (fact: statistically, far more teenagers than prepubescents are sold as sex slaves, and usually by their own parents or relatives—the reason, I suppose, I’d accepted my own situation with little more than apprehension and a vague relief). Ollie’s mom had died when he was too young to remember, and his stepmother had so little use for him he didn’t realize she was gone until his dad barged into his bedroom one night and informed him while rolling him onto his belly; the rape hurt worse than the news. Ollie was twelve at the time. I aimed him towards less traumatic topics and found I’d been right, my cousin was something of a loner, neither well-liked nor hated among his peers; to them, he was just another white trash redneck kid going nowhere fast. His skill at chess (and other board games, I learned later) came from playing by himself and working both sides equally to win. When I inquired about additional family members Ollie shook his head; our grandparents were long gone and what few distant cousins we knew of scattered to the four winds. “That’s the reason my dad jumped at the chance for you to come here. He might not act like it but blood is important to him, and he’ll take good care of you, no matter what else he does.” After awhile Ollie stretched and climbed out of my arms. “We better get lunch started. Usually I’d just do sandwiches or a frozen pizza, but he’ll want something prepared. Do you like sloppy joes?”
Uncle Gil was snoozing in his chair as we tiptoed through and cooked as quietly as possible, but he awoke at the precise moment we slid the garlic buttered burger buns from the oven. Fetching himself his first beer of the day, he joined us and inhaled his lunch. As I’d discovered was his wont, Uncle Gil waited until we’d finished cleaning before issuing his next demand.
“Shuck your shorts and climb on your bed, face down, ass out.” My heart jumped into my throat, as he was addressing me. “Ollie, grease him up but don’t dare stick so much as your pinky in and I’ll be there when I finish my bowl. Understood?”
“Yessir,” Ollie replied, but his brown eyes were compassionate upon me. I didn’t, couldn’t answer my uncle, but I obeyed, my knees knocking as I walked to our room. The moment I’d dreaded was upon me. “It’ll be okay,” my cousin assured me as I slipped out of my shorts and assumed the position as Uncle Gil had directed, laying my head and hands upon the mattress and raising my butt in the air. I heard Ollie rummaging in the lube drawer and clenched my eyes shut at his approach. The snick of the bottle being opened, Ollie’s hand nudging my knees further apart, and I hissed as cool liquid dripped down my crack. “Listen up,” my cousin said, his tone as low and comforting as his words were not. His fingers stroked across my back door and I tried to resist the urge to clamp down. “He figures the best way to pop a cherry is just to shove right in, so you gotta be ready for him, okay?” I nodded, holding onto Ollie’s voice as a lifeline. “And remember to breathe, cuz. Soon’s you feel him back there, take a deep breath and try to relax your hole, then when he pushes in bear down like you’re taking a shit while at the same time blowing out. I’m not gonna lie, it’ll burn and sting like a bitch, like you’re being ripped apart, but don’t try to run or fight back, you’ll only piss him off and he’ll make it hurt worse.” Strangely, hearing Ollie spell out exactly what was about to happen in such bald terms calmed me some, as did his steady stroking at my hole. “The best part is he probably won’t last long, he’ll enjoy the tightness so much I give him five strokes, tops, before he spills.” As far as I was concerned, that was six strokes too many, but I didn’t protest. I knew it wouldn’t do me any good. “You’re gonna be fine, cuz, I promise, and when he’s through I’ll take care of you.”
“What, you gonna kiss it and make it better?” I asked bitterly.
“If that’s what it takes,” he whispered, but I had not a moment to ponder before Uncle Gil stomped into the room, and I knew without looking that he was ready for me.
“Blow me, Ollie.” The sound of my cousin sucking him in, squelching up and down his cock. I squirmed, feeling naked and exposed to the world, and stifled the urge to bolt when my uncle’s fingertip, so much rougher and work-hardened than Ollie’s, stroked down my crack and tapped at my anus. “Look at it twitch,” Uncle Gil sniggered, digging a half-inch or so inside, and I gasped. “Grease my cock.” A slight farting noise as Ollie turned the bottle up and squeezed. Uncle Gil stepped closer until I felt a great, blunt heat at my opening, and I would have disregarded Ollie’s warning and crawled away if my cousin hadn’t slid one of his hands over mine, clutching and reminding me he was there, there was nothing we could do to stop this but he was there with me. Uncle Gil probed a couple times, the feeling weird but not yet painful. Remembering Ollie’s advice, I sucked in a deep breath and tried to relax my hole. Uncle Gil pressed harder so I bore down, preparing to blow out my breath in a smooth, steady stream. He pushed on my lower back to spread me wider, then slid his hands up my spine, using one to grip my shoulder, wrapping the other in my hair.
And all my preparedness, all Ollie’s advice went straight out the window, for as I braced myself not to run, Uncle Gil yanked me backwards, forcing me to impale myself hard and fast, gusting all my breath out in one swoosh and not stopping until his pubes prickled my backside.
For a second, nothing. I was numb, only aware of a leaden weight inside me. Then the shock dropped and fire bloomed, not just in my violated hole but up and down my entire fucking body. I felt I’d been split in half, possibly even shattered, and though I intellectually knew Uncle Gil’s dick was only average in size, able to fit almost comfortably in my mouth, in my ass it felt like a missile, hard and cold and unyielding. Too stunned to attempt escape, I could do nothing but scream at the top of my lungs, pouring my agony out through my vocal cords.
“Hoo-eee, boy, thassit, sing for me!” Uncle Gil exulted, grinding in impossibly further, and though I strained to not give him the satisfaction I couldn’t help but yell again as he pulled out almost all the way, slamming back in and sending more fire throughout my body. An interesting feeling, more electric than flame, flickered way down deep at the bottom of the pain, so overwhelmed as to be almost unnoticeable. Uncle Gil slammed a third time, then a fourth, each stroke a fresh onslaught of torment and memorable enough for counting. On the next, however, on the next slam he groaned, digging in and rounding me out, and I felt his cock throbbing thicker as he spilled into me. Ollie had been right; five strokes, tops. Uncle Gil cackled in glee, smacked my ass as he exited, the sting so insignificant compared to what had come before I barely registered it. I heard myself fart, felt trickles of his cum bubble out to drip down my taint, and Ollie squeezed my hand, having held onto me throughout the entire ordeal.
“I love me some tight cherry,” Uncle Gil said, and though I still had my eyes clenched shut I could all but see the shit-eating grin on his face. “You can fuck him now, Ollie, but don’t wear his hole out, I want another slice of that pie tonight.” Still cackling to himself, Uncle Gill stomped from the room.
We didn’t say much for a minute, Ollie merely squeezing my hand while I shook and panted into the mattress, trying and mostly succeeding to hold back the sobs. My abused anus felt huge, wide open, a wind tunnel big enough for semis to blow through, but I also felt full of both fluid and air, and I wondered if I’d ever be tight enough to control my bathroom urges again. And this was just the first time! Uncle Gil was bound and determined to fuck me over and over, but I didn’t think I’d ever get used to this . . . hollowness and laxity and fierce, thumping ache.
“It’s okay, cuz, it’s over for now,” Ollie whispered, stroking my back with the hand not squeezing mine. “It’ll never hurt so bad again, I swear.”
I wasn’t sure I believed him, but I nodded. “Would you,” I paused to clear my throat, “would you do me a favor, Ollie?”
“Anything, cuz, name it.”
“Will you, will you look at me back, back there and see if I’m, if I’m bleeding?”
“I doubt you are, I never do, but I’ll look.” He squeezed my hand one more time before kneeling behind me, spreading my cheeks to check the carnage. If it had been anyone else I probably would have died of shame, but this was Ollie, who already knew me better than anyone else ever had and who had for two long years suffered his own unfair share of this obscenity. He stroked my hole, the touch light and gentle, and when he spoke his breath cooled some of the ragged jaggedness. “Naw, you ain’t bleeding. You’re puffy and a little swollen, but nothing time won’t fix.” He paused, and after a moment I felt another touch, lighter and gentler than the first, warm and somehow moist, and I shuddered at the sweetness.
“What, what are you doing, Ollie?”
“Kissing and making it better, like I said I would.” That was his tongue, I realized, his fucking tongue lapping at me! He spread my cheeks wider, licking, licking. My incredulity grew as he doubled down, probing, the wet warmth soothing my abused flesh. He dug deeper, his curled tongue flickering in and out of my hole. “Just so you know, I’ve never done this before, he’s paranoid about his butt, but I wanted to do it for you. Is it making you feel better?” I couldn’t answer, in words anyhow, but he took my whimper as assent. “You taste good, cuz. Even his cum tastes like you now.” I whimpered again. The fierce, thumping ache was still present, but the interesting feeling I’d barely noticed before now pulsed deep inside me with each swipe of his tongue. The pleasure could be intensified, I knew this instinctively, might be charged higher, hotter, if I but had the courage. As if reading my mind, Ollie’s finger pushed inside me, just the tip, and I gasped, whimpered again. His digit drilled down, slow enough for me to pull away if I so chose, but I steeled myself and opened up for him. With his other hand, Ollie reached between my legs and stroked my cock; it had been dangling like helpless and flaccid meat while Uncle Gil raped me, now it stood strong and sturdy, stimulated by my cousin’s gentleness. Thrusting his finger in and out in a lazy spiral, knuckling a spot inside me that almost made all this worthwhile, Ollie murmured, “I know he said I could fuck you now, but it ain’t up to him, is it? It’s up to you. May I please? I promise to go slow and make it good for you.” For all his politeness, I heard the aroused pleading barely concealed within.
I thought about it while he circled his finger inside me, stroked my dick. On the one hand I was terrified of another intruder; Ollie’s dick was at least the same size as Uncle Gil’s, and I shuddered at the thought of having something so average yet gigantic stuffed up in me again. On the other hand, this was Ollie. Ollie, who’d never hurt me, not in a million years. Ollie, who’d do his best to make it good for me. Ollie. Who cared. Plus, there was that interesting feeling still simmering inside me, a feeling that to intensify would require more direct stimulation. So I gave in, and trusted. “Sure, Ollie,” I puffed into the mattress, having not yet moved from the position Uncle Gil had specified. “You can, you can . . . fuck me.” Besides, letting Ollie do me might take away the sting of Uncle Gil’s rape.
“Thanks, cuz.” Relief and excitement in his voice. He withdrew his finger and I felt empty but expectant too. He scrambled to his feet and I heard him lubing himself up, the wet squelches indicating his overgenerous usage. Ollie crowded close behind me, his heat prickling my backside. “Lower your ass a little, cuz. Yeah, perfect.” He settled his glans at my back door, probing but not penetrating, not yet, but I tensed anyhow then consciously relaxed. This was Ollie. “Okay, I’m gonna put it in. Push out now and remember to breathe.” His head breached me, and I hissed at the stretch, but I didn’t pull away and he didn’t stop. “You’re doing great, cuz,” he said, guileless and encouraging. It hurt, oh goddamn-piss-drinking-shit-eating-fucking-hell it hurt, maybe even worse than Uncle Gil’s heartless impalement, but the interesting feeling advised to hold on, pleasure was coming, so I trusted the instinct and breathed, in, out, in, out. Ollie moved at a glacial pace, filling me up one bare quarter inch at a time, and it might have been a minute or a million years until he was seated fully inside me, his soft thatch of blond pubes pressing into my skin. “Oh,” my cousin said, then said it again, tinged with wonder. “Oh.” Then a third time, high-pitched but gratified. “Oh!”
‘Oh’ was right, the perfect word. There were no other words, not really. Just, “Oohh,” I exhaled, because suddenly the pain of being stretched and filled changed. It didn’t go away, it never entirely goes away, to the best of my knowledge, but instead became secondary, not the point of penetration. I felt full inside, full to the point of overflowing with a pressure just this side of bearable but oddly satisfying too. And the interesting feeling? The interesting feeling absolutely crackled at the weight of Ollie’s cock. But I needed him to move, move now or I just might die. As if hearing my plea, my cousin asked, “Ready, cuz?” but didn’t even wait for an answer before he finally did move, pulling himself out and pushing back inside, still moving at a glacial pace, and the interesting feeling crackled again, sparks flaring. Ollie stroked again, moving a bit faster, then a third time, and both of us moaned. “Fuck, cuz, so tight, gripping me so fucking tight. Does it feel good, better than my dad?”
“Ollie,” I said sharply, “Uncle Gil isn’t here. It’s just me and you, nobody else. You feel good inside me, I promise, and I know it’s gonna feel even better in a minute. Far as I’m concerned, he didn’t take my cherry, I’m giving it to you of my own free will. So forget about him and fuck me, okay? Fuck me, cuz!”
To his credit Ollie didn’t falter at either the reprimand or my demand, simply kept fucking me, in and out, in and out, still gently but with an ever-increasing pace as he grew more confident and me more relaxed. I gripped the sheet in my fingers and whimpered, still stretched and burning but thrilling to the heaviness of Ollie’s cock. He pumped fast but not hard, precise yet sloppy, and I arched my back, purring as he stroked me, the interesting feeling swelling and crackling with every pass. He reached around and underneath, gripping my dick in his fist. “You’re leaking, cuz,” he rasped, rubbing the pre into my glans with his thumb. “Guess it really does feel good, huh?”
“It, it feels . . . it feels great, cuz,” I grunted, reveling in his rut. “You feel great!” So imagine my surprise when he suddenly stopped, pulling out with such abrupt haste I whined and hunched back, chasing him.
“Roll on your back, cuz. You’ll like it even better, and I, I wanna watch your face while I do you.”
I doubted I’d like it any better no matter what position we tried, but I was willing to indulge Ollie. Besides, I wanted to watch his face too. So I rolled over and spread and lifted my thighs, ready for him to be inside me again. He scooted between my legs and lined up, pushing inside so fast I gasped in pain and then in pleasure when he bottomed out, deeper than he’d gone before, adding a touch more discomfort but a whole helluva lotta sensation. He immediately started pounding, proving me wrong; I did like it better this way, and my eyes rolled back in my head.
“Am I hitting your sweet spot, cuz?” Ollie asked, bending over me so his sweat dripped off him to join the tears of exertion running down my cheeks.
“I, I think you’re hitting all my spots, cuz!” I could barely breathe, much less talk, but Ollie needed to know this.
“Does it make you feel like you’re gonna cum?”
“Gonna, gonna cum hard, Ollie!” The interesting feeling had flooded my entire body, crackles of electricity spiraling out as jolts of pure energy. This . . . this . . . elation was leagues away from Uncle Gil’s crude, brutal, and above all selfish fucking. This was Ollie, who wanted to make me feel good, who didn’t take but asked to be given, so I gave, freely and without reservation. We weren’t fucking, not really. We were making love. I knew it, and as I watched the emotion play over his face I knew he knew it too. He grabbed hold of me again, squeezing my cock in the same rhythm of his relentless pumping.
“I’m gonna shoot soon, cuz,” he panted, gliding in and out me, our heat having melted the glacial pace from earlier. His brown eyes drilled into me with as much passion and strength of his cock. “Are you getting close?”
“So close!” I groaned, my head rolling on my pillow. I’d been reduced to pure nerve, pure sensation, and I was helpless but ecstatic to be swept along. I was a ball of electricity waiting for a switch to be thrown. Remembering the move Ollie had made on me last night, I somehow found enough willpower to squeeze, to tighten and relax on him as he plundered. My move was probably clumsy and amateurish compared to his smooth technique but had the desired effect anyhow.
“Oh shit,” Ollie mumbled. “Oh hell. I never imagined how—” He broke off into a wordless grunt and jammed himself inside me, far as he could go, and I watched his face tighten as he slipped into orgasm. “Shooting now, cuz, filling you up with my cum!” His cock throbbed in me, one sensation too many, and I followed him off the cliff, my body spasming as he twisted and pumped the cum straight out of my balls, the interesting feeling behind my innards providing a new and improved angle on my standard nut. I hollered, I know I hollered as the jolts spiked and cum splattered my sweaty body, spilled into my welcoming ass. The tension softened and I opened my eyes to find Ollie bare inches from my face. He leaned in and I pursed my lips but he chickened out at the last second, chose instead to lick up the lines of semen on my cheek; I hadn’t known I sprayed that far but I wasn’t surprised. He lapped down my neck to my chest, sucking up any cum he came across, and both of us sighed as he slipped out of me. I felt huge back there again, a wind tunnel for semis, but now there was no sense of violation, only loss and anticipation for next time, because there would be a next time, I was positive; once butt shy and nervous, now I longed to be pounded again, but only by Ollie—Uncle Gil, I decided, would be nothing except a necessary and unpleasant duty. My cousin continued cleaning my torso with his tongue, digging into my sides and bellybutton to make me giggle. He sucked every drop out of my pubes too, then slid my softening cock into his mouth, nursing for any leftover cream, until at last I cringed at the overstimulation and pushed him away. He collapsed beside me, and we looked at each other, just looked, until our panting breaths calmed.
“That was . . . that was . . .” Ollie paused, unable to find the correct word, finally settling for, “Awesome, cuz. Fucking awesome. I can’t believe how tight you were, even after—” he stopped short, remembering my reprimand, and I warmed at his consideration.
“Awesome,” I agreed. “You were awesome, cuz. Not only for your absolutely amazing fucking skills, but for being with me through . . . through everything. I can’t thank you enough for your patience.”
He blushed, as unused to personal compliments as to those on his kitchen talents. “I just wanted to make it good for you, cuz, show you it didn’t always have to hurt, that’s all.”
“You did,” I assured him.
“You know,” Ollie confided, “I invented the ass-milking thing to make him cum quicker,” eyes flickering an apology for bringing up his dad, “and now I know why it works. I don’t think I’ve ever felt anything sexier.”
“I loved it when you did to me, so I figured I’d see how you liked it.”
“I loved it!”
Unable to help myself, I farted, long and loud, feeling a trickle of cum leaking out, and I grimaced. I would’ve loved to hold Ollie’s seed inside me forever, but even I was aware of the ridiculousness of the notion. “I need the toilet. Maybe another shower too.”
“Take as many as you want, we got plenty of propane and water is cheap in the county, so he won’t care. He only gets mad about the electric.” And there was Uncle Gil again popping into the conversation, but I forgave my cousin; weaning Ollie’s attention away would take time, of which I had plenty. Long as the man wasn’t brought up during our intimate moments, I could work with the rest.
“Cool. Would you, um,” I hesitated, as hesitant about this as about our spooked yearning to kiss.
“Would I what, cuz?”
“Would you take one with me?” I blurted in one long train of words.
Ollie smiled. “Sure. I’d like that.”
Uncle Gil was planted in his chair smoking a third bowl (or was it his fourth?) as Ollie and I paraded through the front room, and he didn’t even bother raising an eyebrow at our nudity; we were all guys here, who gave a shit. He did snicker at my bowlegged stride, though. “Rode it hard, huh, Ollie? Ain’t ya glad your ol’ Dad warmed him up for ya?”
“Thanks, Dad, you did great,” Ollie returned with just a hint of snark in his tone, and Uncle Gil snickered again but made no further comment. We closed ourselves in the shower, luxuriating in the hot stream and the pleasant company. We didn’t talk much, only washed each other down then stood under the water, holding on tight. I don’t think I’d ever been as happy as I was at that moment, with my arms wrapped around my cousin and his fingers stroking through my wet hair, so happy I could have dissolved like sugar and melted into the drain, as long as Ollie melted with me. There were still tough times ahead, and I dreaded Uncle Gil’s third nut after dinner, but just then I buried my face in my cousin’s neck, glad the spray camouflaged the tears I was sure were leaking from my eyes.