My Cousin Benny

Growing up, I always new I was gay. It started in preschool with kissing the same boy on the cheek everyday. By middle school, I was well aware of how to find porn on the family computer and still clear the browsing history.

Come high school, fresh out of puberty and hormones raging, I often had a lingering eye in the locker rooms. I couldn’t help but admire muscle developing on the good looking teen jocks around me. Or notice the way a happy trail leads from the belly button down to a hint of bush, hidden with a towel.

Of all these defining moments, one sticks out the most. Not just for how it set my heart racing or the fire it set in my crotch, but for the taboo of wanting something, someone, that I couldn’t have. The object of my adolescent lust and fantasies. My cousin Benny. Well, Ben, now that we’re older. Over the years, we were fairly opposite even though just a year apart. I was short and chubby, sporting braces and a bowl cut. Benny was always a head taller than me, lithe and muscular. To my brown hair and bespectacled green eyes, he was a blue eyed blondie.

By high school, he was a three sport athlete, popular and charming. I’d grown out of my baby fat at least, lost the braces, and the haircut, but still so different. I spent my time focused on my studies, reading fantasy series, and jerking off thinking about Ben. We only saw each other maybe twice a year, but that was all I needed to stir up some daydream about how we used to wrestle, only in my dream we did so much.

And we did wrestle quite a bit, usually not by my choice. Every time my family went to visit, the adults would kick us out of their space. We’d head down into the basement, sitting cross legged in front of the big screen playing N64. If I started winning too much, he would get frustrated and tackle me. He could pin me easily and I had to control my young hormones from not enjoying the sensations of his weight pressed against my body. We outgrew wrestling by high school. We were polite and cordial, but I never really knew what to say to him.

We were in the same grade, graduated the same year. Ben chose to stay close to home in Massachusetts, attending a small school. In the theme of opposites, I left sleepy New England and headed south to Virginia, with a campus of over 30,000 students. During my four years there I came out of my shell, and out of the closet. Luckily everyone in my family, cousins included, were accepting and welcoming.

This brief biography drifted through my mind as I sat on the couch in my aunt and uncle’s living room. Fresh out of college, this was my first time seeing them. My mom chit chatted with her sister in the kitchen, my dad and uncle watching some home improvement show. And me, looking at all the pictures of Ben on the walls, reminiscing of years gone by.

The mudroom door banged open, drawing my attention, and in walked Ben. He flashed a smile at everyone, his blue eyes twinkling. It was summer, and he sported a tank top and loose fitting running shorts. I hadn’t seen him in four years, but damn he still looked good.

“Hey everyone! So glad to see you all again,” he exclaimed, hugging his mom who’d ran over and waving to his dad.

His muscle tone had developed well into something more solid and cut. I could see the outline of his pecs through his top, as well as his perky nipples. A flexed bicep relaxed when he set his cooler to the tiled floor. My eyes followed and took in his toned calves. He stepped out of his flip flops, letting his big feet go barefoot. I admired his slender toes, neatly manicured. Traveling back up his legs, pausing at the prominent bulge, until our eyes met. Ben smirked, winking at me. 23 certainly looked good on him, and the four years apart had made me even more attracted to him.

The door burst open again, admitting Ben’s brother Seth, 8 years his senior. He had an infant in one arm, a bag slung over the opposite shoulder. He was quickly followed by his very pregnant wife. At their arrival, Ben was pushed out of the way by the older adults who swarmed the baby. Ben sauntered over to me, still sitting on the couch. He stopped about a foot in front of me, his crotch right at eye level.

“Rob! How’s it going man?” he asked, extending his arm for a handshake. I reciprocated, his big hand taking mine in a firm grip.

“Hey, Benny,” I said warmly while standing up, “Looks like you got even taller!”

“Yeahhh, I hit 6’2” about sophomore year,” he said, stretching his arms wide and upwards, exposing his trim stomach, a happy trail leading to the waistband of his shorts.

“What’re you, 5’7”? 5’8”?” he asked, ruffling my hair.

“5’9” actually, on a good day,” I replied. I sat back on the couch and tried to discreetly admire his body. He wasn't overly big, but each muscle was well defined. He’s mostly tan, except for his pale thighs when his shorts ride up. I had to stop myself from licking my lips, imagining my hands running up his thick quads. At 22, I had some experience, but I sure knew how to please a man like this.

“Well it looks like Seth and Lindsay are getting all the attention,” he said, turning to look at the still crowded entryway, “Wanna drink some beers downstairs? The weather is shit outside anyway.”

He was right. Late May, here in Massachusetts, can still be a rainy month. Gray storm clouds covered the sky. A light tip tap of rain on the windows competed with distant rumbles of thunder.

“Yeah, I’m game for that,” I said, standing back up, “I’m not really one for babies anyway.”

“Right on, dude!” he said, walking to retrieve his cooler. I followed him through the kitchen to the door leading to the finished basement, and down the stairs. The room wasn’t as I remembered it. White walls replaced the vintage wood paneling, the old futon had been upgraded to a leather sectional, and a shiny new entertainment stand held up a flat screen. Just underneath the tv was Ben’s pride and joy, an original N64.

Ben saw the game console, his eyes lighting up.

“I can’t believe they kept it after all these years,” he said, “C’mon, let's play some Mario Kart.”

He fired up the tv and game console, sitting on the ground, back resting against the couch and cooler to one side. He splayed his legs out and I could just barely catch a glimpse of his balls. Someone was going commando. He patted the carpeting next to him, motioning me to down. I sat next to him in a similar manner, our thighs just barely touching. He reached to open the cooler, grabbing two cans of IPA, handing me one. He settled in next to me, his bare arm pressed against mine, our thighs more than just lightly touching now. I could feel the heat of his skin against my arm, and the firmness of his thigh against mine.

I tried concentrating on the beer label and ignoring the growing heat between my legs. Being this close to him, all my fantasies felt like they were coming to life.

“Looks like you got some muscle now, cuz!” He exclaimed, grabbing my bicep. My dick twitched at his touch. And I had put on some muscle, hitting the gym in college and now at a local one.

“Pshh, hardly. Can't even compare to you,” I said, nudging his shoulder with mine. Ben grinned and flexed.

“Maybe in another four years you’ll get there,” he said, winking at me. “Now c’mon, pick a map so we can race!”

I picked a map, and we chose our racers. Ben joked I should use Princess Peach. We started playing, me easily beating him the first few rounds. The beers flowed as we played, each of us getting a little tipsy. I wasn’t sure, but it seemed like Ben leaned into me more and more. He was getting bolder in trying to win, tickling my side or grabbing my junk. Thankfully concentrating on the game had calmed my boner. All his gimmicks resulted in another loss for him.

“Ya know I'm getting tired of losing to you,” he said, cracking another beer and throwing an arm around my shoulders. “Remember when we used to wrestle? I could always beat you at that.”

The masculine musk coming from his armpit hit my nostrils and my dick started stirring again. I inhaled his scent, relishing the closeness.

“Yeah, well, I was a chubby weakling and you’re…you!” I said, trying to shrug him off but his arm remained.

“And I’m what?” he asked, his hand cupping my shoulder to pull me closer.

“Eh nothing,” I said, finally pushing him away. Of course I couldn’t tell him he's a bronzed, muscled god.

“C’mon, let's wrestle again, for old times sake,” he said, trying to tickle my side again.

“No way! I always lose, besides, you’re twice my size!” I replied, trying not to blush at the thought of him pressed against me.

“C’mon cuz! I’ll go easy on you.”

“No.”

“I’ll tell ya what, if I beat you in the next race, we wrestle,” he pleaded, “And if you win, I’ll drop it.”

I reluctantly agreed. Part of me wanted to lose, but for sure I’d get a boner and freak him out. He picked the hardest track, Rainbow Road, my least favorite. We started the race, and I had a sizable lead by the end of the second lap. Just my luck, one of the computer players hit me with a blue sky, and my kart skidded off the side of the track. Ben was able to pass me, and all I could do was sit and watch him cross the finish line. He threw his arms in the air with a victory yell, bathing me in his sweaty scent again.

“Alright Rob, a deal’s a deal,” he said, tossing the controllers to the side.

“You can't be serious,” I said.

“Oh yes I am,” he said, jumping to his feet and pulling my arm, “Besides, it's not like you don’t naked wrestle with other guys!” He winked and wiggled his eyebrows.

“Alright, alright,” I said, standing up. “Let me put my glasses down.”

I set my glasses on the side table next to the couch. I turned to face Ben. He was almost crouched, arms flexed, thighs tense, a mischievous grin on his face. I mimicked his stance and he started grabbing for my wrists, or lower or my ankle. I managed to swat away most of his attempts. He was quicker, though. One of his grabs went past my hands and he grabbed behind my knee. Swiftly pulling forward, he had my leg up. I lost my balance, falling onto my back. In a flash, he was on top of me. His strong thighs straddled my waist and his big hands pinning my wrists above my head.

He leaned in close enough for me to smell the beer in his breath. I struggled in his grip, but his 200 pounds of muscle easily overpowered my slighter 150. He held me in this position, and my lust for him started getting the better of me. My dick twitched once, and then again, encouraged by the pressure of his pelvis on mine. I quickly reached full erection, and was met with a very confused look from Ben. His eyebrows furrowed, and then he smiled, softly rocking his hips, driving my dick into a raging hardon.

“You like this, don’t you?” He asked, keeping that sly smirk.

I didn’t respond, but used it as a distraction to wrest one of my hands free. I tried to roll from under him, but Ben used the momentum to pin me again. Now I’m face down, my arms above my head, his hands holding my wrists. He lowered his head down, his mouth next to my ear, his hot breath washing over my neck. He extended his legs to lay fully on top of me.

“And do you like this?” he asked, grinding his hips into my backside. There was a stirring in his shorts, a growing heat.

“Boys? Are you down there?” my aunt yelled down the stairs. “Dinner is ready!”

“Coming, Mom!” Ben yelled back. He licked my cheek and hopped off me. “See you upstairs, squirt.”

As Ben ran upstairs, I laid there, waiting for my hardon to subside, wiping his saliva off my cheek, with a big smile on my face.