“What are you doing?” Nate asked, unblinking.
Fuck. I’d been caught, my mind racing at what to do.
I let his briefs fall to the floor, quickly pulling up my shorts and underwear, trying and failing to conceal myself through the fabric.
I was too shocked to know what to say. I’d just checked that no one was home. He wasn’t meant to be back for hours.
“What are you doing in my room?” Nate asked again, even more annoyed, angry even.
“I didn’t think anyone was here—“ I protested, as if that was any excuse for trespassing in his space.
I descended into a panic, the embarrassment of having been found like this washing over me. Would he tell my Aunt and Uncle? Would he beat my ass?
“Alone in my room…” he said, not even responding to my poor excuse.
I stared back at him.
“Jerking off…”
The statement hung there, cutting through the thick air like a knife. I didn’t know exactly how to respond. I guess he was right. I’d hardly ever touched myself like that before, but I just knew it felt good — rubbing my dick against something so smooth and nice.
The pressure of my hand.
The promise of release.
“I’m sorry, I swear,” I started, “I know I shouldn’t be up here.” I searched his face, pleading. “Please don’t tell your Mom and Dad.”
He read the fear in my eyes, how scared I was, my glance searching past him to see if I could make a clean getaway.
And then his face changed, somehow responding to my panic.
“It’s cool, dude,” he replied, trying to calm me. He looked down, shaking his head. “Everybody jerks off.”
I softened a bit, comforted by the fact that he’d normalized whatever it was I was doing.
I guess everybody did, didn’t they?
He glanced down at the floor in front of me.
“You playing with my underwear?” he asked, eyeing it crumpled in a ball by my feet.
Jesus, he really wasn’t letting me off the hook.
I realized there was no choice but to be honest.
“Yes,” I replied, my embarrassment turning to deep shame. My face turned an even deeper shade of red, affirming his suspicion, the most mortifying admission of my life.
But to my surprise, he further softened, starting over towards me and seating himself alongside me, both of our legs hanging off the side of the bed.
He eyed the hard-on in my shorts, still visible despite my attempt at covering it up.
“Take it back out again.”
Shock came over my face. What?
I leaned up and glanced out the window.
“My parents are still gone,” he said, reading my mind. “They called me to ask for some information they needed for the dealership, it’s why I came home.”
I reclined again, still uncertain if I should obey. The idea of getting my dick out in front of him….maybe it was what I wanted, what I’d been imagining, but it seemed a bridge too far. I wasn’t sure I could trust him. Not yet.
Nate was the kind of guy who called shit “gay.” And this was some pretty gay shit right here.
But I felt like I didn’t have a choice.
Before I could reach down, his voice interjected.
“You wanna see mine?” he asked.
I nearly choked at the suggestion, him offering up the very thing I been fantasizing about when he walked in. My pulse was racing, in overdrive, the entire moment surreal.
This couldn’t be happening. And yet, it was.
But before I could respond, he reached for the waistband of his briefs and his shorts, pulling them both down in front of him in one quick motion.
I stared as he lay back down on the bed, presenting himself to me, half-naked body close enough to touch—dick splayed out, semi-hard and just shy of full mast, hanging over a pair of smooth balls that fell lazily between his legs. All of it was framed by the deep burnish of his tan and the line that cut across his waist, his tank top still resting just above.
“This what you wanted to see?”
He watched me watching him, my gaze focused solely on his dick as it became more and more engorged, raising itself up from the cradle of his balls until it was fully erect, the head finally pointing up towards him, grazing his belly button.
In all its glory, it was a full seven inches, bigger than mine, and bigger than any dick I’d seen before in real life.
He nodded down at my bulge, angrily pressing against the strain of my shorts.
“C’mon,” he encouraged, “pull it out. After all, you’re the perv that came into my room.”
I exhaled awkwardly at the joke. And after slight hesitation, I reached for my shorts, pulling them back down and letting my own already-hard dick free. I let it stand there, pointing up at me, the tip covered with pre-cum, shaft red from having been worked so hard before he arrived.
“Nice, dude,” he said admiringly as I showed it to him. “Your cock’s a lot like mine.”
My stomach lurched at the sentiment. I guess it was true. They were a similar shape, both of us cut, not like some of the guys I’d noticed in the gym locker room with the extra foreskin that hung down over the head.
He grinned. “You can tell we’re related.”
I blanched at the acknowledgement of our bloodline, its reality making this feel even more forbidden. It seems we had even more in common than I thought.
“I’ve been noticing you checking me out,” he told me.
My eyes widened at the accusation. So it had been obvious, despite my best attempts to keep it together.
“Really?”
“Yeah, it’s okay,” he replied. “It’s kinda nice having someone eye you like that. Even if it’s not a girl.”
I let out an internal sigh of relief, feeling a bit safer in my desire for him. Maybe it was okay, after all. Not entirely misplaced.
I looked down at our dicks, both hard as we lay half-reclined on the bed.
“Why don’t you go back to what you were doing?” he started. “Before I came in.”
I looked back at him awkwardly. I hadn’t really known what I was doing. Just fumbling my way towards a first orgasm, I guessed, my inexperience palpable.
He read it instantly.
“Just learning how, huh?” There was suddenly a measure of care in his face—not pity, but something else—empathy—a sentiment I didn’t know he possessed.
“Yeah,” I replied quietly. Then, slightly more emboldened. “You jerk off a lot?”
He smirked at me. “Of course,” he replied. “Usually a few times a day.”
That was a lot. But I guess I was horny all the time, too. I just hadn’t ever known what to do. I’d probably jerk off a few times a day if I knew how.
“Why don’t I give you a few pointers?”
I blinked. “Really?”
“Yeah, it’s pretty easy once you start exploring a bit. Or if someone shows you how.”
I could hardly believe what I was hearing, seeing. His boldness in dropping his pants, showing me his dick, and offering to help me out. He’d hardly paid me any attention at all, practically ignoring me since I arrived. And now this?
I looked down at our bodies in parallel, half-naked, dicks hanging out.
“It felt good up against your underwear,” I said, the admission immediately making me blush.
But he hardly blinked. “Yeah, I bet.” And then I watched as he picked it up from the floor, taking the soft fabric in his hands and rubbing it along his dick. “Nice and smooth.”
He tossed it beside him.
“First rule of jerking off is—the wetter the better,” he said quietly. “Unless you’ve got something like those.”
He raised his hand to his mouth, spitting into it once, and then twice, before placing it to his dick, running his hand up and down the shaft and head. He did this a few more times, going so far as licking his palm, until it was fully slicked with spit.
He stroked it, so covered in his juice that it was glistening, sloppy.
“See how nice it is when your hand slides up and down?” I nodded back. “Give it a try.”
I took my fingers to my lips, too shy to spit, instead trying to get as much saliva into my hand with my tongue, and then returned my hand back down to my cock. It responded immediately to the sensation, more pre-cum gathering at the tip, repeating the gesture until it was just as wet as his, marveling at the ease of my hand grazing along it.
Much better than a pillow or a pair of briefs.
“How’s that feel?”
I let out a long exhale. “Good,” I told him, before elaborating. “Amazing.”
“I bet it does,” he replied. “Second rule is all about where you hold it.”
I watched as he started to stroke himself in earnest, his thumb wrapped around the face of his dick, by the head, the remaining four fingers just around the underside
“Like this,” he said, showing me as he made long strokes up and down the shaft. “And when you come back up to the top, squeeze it a little bit,” gesturing with his own hand by example.
I watched as his thumb and forefinger found each other each time they reached the top, as if enclosing around the head.
I followed suit, moaning at the sensation of gripping my cock in that way, the spit creating just enough lubrication to massage under the head just so every time my hand rose back up, it became more and more engorged.
“Fuck,” I muttered. “That’s nice.”
“You’re a natural,” he said admiringly, encouraging me on.
I watched as Nate then took his left hand, pulling ever so slightly down on his balls, forcing his cock to stand fully upright.
“You can try different strokes,” he said, taking his hand and adjusting his grip so he held himself from the other side, thumb running down the face towards his pubes and that perfect stomach, fingertips grazing the underside. “Feel it out to see what’s right.”
I followed suit, repositioning myself so the pinkie edge of my hand squeezed the top of my cock rather than my thumb and forefinger, like I was pushing out along the length of myself rather than pulling it up. Somehow, this felt different, the slight change of direction creating an entirely new sensation.
I moaned, watching as he alternated between the two, adjusting his grip to give himself new sensations each time, and doing the same myself.
I basked in the view, the thing I had imagined many times over the last few days but never thought I would witness firsthand—a stud like him, rubbing out his cock in front of me. And not only that—teaching me, egging me on.
It was almost too much to bear.
“You wanna feel it?” His words broke me out of my thoughts.
I went still, body clenching, shocked at the offer.
“Really?” I was on unsure footing.
“Sure.” He nodded down at his cock. “Help your cousin out.”
He removed his hand from the shaft, letting it stand fully upright—free—inviting me to take over.
It looked so perfect there, smooth and velvety. It was, in that moment, the perfect dick, the only dick in the world other than my own. And so I reached over, delicately placing my hand on him, feeling another guy for the first time.
I closed my eyes at the sensation—warm, alive, full of energy and desire, as if his entire life force lived in that thing.
I remained there, immobile, receiving him as he pulsed back against my light grip.
“Try out those strokes on me,” he murmured, pressing me on.
“Yeah?”
“Feels good when you do it yourself, but it’s even nicer to have someone do it for you.”
His words sent me into a tailspin. What had he tried before? Had he done with other girls before? Other guys?
Tentatively, I started moving my hand up and down it, replicating what he’d demonstrated, but on him. I was nervous, unsure of myself, grasping (literally). It was one thing to jerk your own cock, knowing what it felt like on the other end, but this felt foreign, new. I was desperate to get it right.
Any self-doubt was quickly cast aside by Nate’s reaction. The more I stroked my way up and down, paying careful attention to the head as he’d shown me, the more he closed his eyes, light moans coming out of his half-parted lips.
I leaned over to get a better handle on it, our faces now just a few inches away from each other, my own dick pulsing at how close he was and the feel of this previously forbidden part of him within my fist.
He leaned in closer, whispering. “You’re learning quick.”
And so I started working it at a faster clip, massaging in long, careful strokes from base to head, relishing every inch. I was doing more than just jerking him. I was worshipping him, channeling three days of pent-up sexual energy, of obsession, into one simple touch.
“Needs a little more spit,” he said quietly, between heavy breaths. But before I could pull away, he lifted my hand to his mouth and shot out a long ream, replacing it back on his dick and willing me to continue.
“That’s it,” he said, the extra lubrication returning me to form, allowing me to glide even faster up and down him.
I picked up speed, each thrust causing his body to contract, abs flexing as I pumped harder, faster.
I was new at this, but one thing was clear. He was close.
“Keep going,” he muttered, encouraging me on, my own dick tightening, leaking, without even the faintest touch of my own hand. “Show me how much you love this fucking dick.”
The words hit me like a ton of bricks—so dirty, forceful, raw. I jerked faster, harder, tightening my hold around the head of his cock, squeezing it between my thumb and forefinger, willing him towards release.
And then, to my great surprise, he reached under my own outstretched arm and took my cock in his hand, gripping it with his own spitty palm.
I looked back, mesmerized, my dick jumping at the gesture. It was the first time anyone had ever felt it before, the sensation sending my body into overdrive, as I could come just from that initial touch.
And the sensation seemed to do the same for him, the feel of me sending him over the edge.
“I’m gonna…bust,” he muttered.
His grip tightened around my cock, a guttural moan leaving his mouth as a first wave of milky white cum shot out of him, landing directly onto the grey of his tank top, before the next and the next, each slashing his body with semen until it was darkened, totally soaked through.
I watched his face, contorted in pleasure, his front teeth biting his lower lip as the last remains flowed out of him, my hand eventually finding stillness.
He let out a deep exhale, releasing my dick from his hand, and then I did the same, letting it rest on top of him, a pool of cum filling his belly button.
I looked up at his face, eyes closed, taking in the afterglow of what had just happened.
“Fuck,” he said quietly. “I needed that.”
I wasn’t quite sure what that was. What had just happened?
“You know your way around a dick,” he said quietly, finally opening his eyes.
He reached down onto the floor and grabbed the discarded underwear I’d been playing with when he walked in, taking it and using it to wipe up the cum from his stomach and tank top.
I lay there, still hard, internalizing all that I’d accomplished.
Somehow, I’d just jerked off my cousin, the object of my desire, hardly even knowing how to do that for myself. I felt a heady brew of power, pride, and desire. I’d given him something I didn’t know I had in me, something I still hadn’t even given to myself. And I’d been good at it. Better than good at.
I’d been great.
More importantly, I liked it. As much as I wanted him, all of him, there was something about being in a position of submission, of providing for him, that fired something deep inside me.
He held the balled up briefs before me, the red-handed evidence that I was entirely infatuated with him.
“You like the way this smells?”
“I—” But before I could reply, he pressed it to my face, holding it against my nose and mouth, letting me take it all in.
I breathed deep, that same familiar smell of his sweat and piss, but now with the added layer of his mess.
He was right. I loved it.
“Go ahead,” he said, goading me. “Use it. Finish yourself off.”
And before I could think twice, I took my dick in my hand, dangerously close to a finish, and started jerking it, the smell of his underwear, now thick with the scent of his seed, filling my insides.
His eyes were locked on my face, watching me.
“You like the smell of my cock?”
I nodded, moaning into the soft folds of fabric.
He crouched down closer, pushing the ball deeper into my face, my mouth opening so I could touch it with my tongue, biting down on it, starting to stroke my dick at an even more feverish clip.
The sensation was intoxicating, and before I could give a warning, an eruption came from inside me, the sensation that I’d been searching for in vain for years finally found.
My dick tightened and shook in my palm, the head convulsing—fuck, that was new—as ream after ream of cum flew out of my cock and onto my tee shirt, breath heaving, muffled only by the mound of his underwear between my lips.
It was unlike anything I’d experienced before, the build that had become so familiar to me finally giving way to release. I felt lightheaded, woozy, seeing stars.
So this, this was what everyone had always talked about?
It was pretty fucking nice.
Nate pulled the briefs away, tossing them on the floor, giving me room to exhale unobstructed.
“Fuck, dude,” Nate muttered, startled by how forcefully I’d busted all over myself. “That’s a lot of cum.”
I looked down sheepishly, looking at the mess I’d made. I suppose it was a lot, even more than he’d managed to pump out himself.
“Not bad for a first time,” I said, proud of myself.
He shook his head in disbelief. “I can’t believe you’ve never finished yourself off before. You’ve been pent up for, like, your entire life.”
I supposed he was right, but this was the beginning of something new.
A grin took over his face. “Told you this week would be epic.”
I watched as he stood up and slid off his tank top, soaked with his load, for the first time revealing his fully naked body to me. He was all lean muscle, sculpted, arms taut, a sinew running from bicep to forearms, strong from all the yard work he’d been doing all summer. His tan was set in relief by the lines I’d glimpsed when he first exposed his stomach, framing his dick and ass from his waist all the way down to his knees.
It was a sight to behold. I’d never seen someone more beautiful, more desirable.
“I didn’t know you’d do that,” I muttered. “Not just jerk off but…”
“…with another guy?” he asked.
He made his way to his dresser, pulling out a fresh pair of shorts and a tee. He moved with an ease that I admired, so comfortable and confident in his own skin.
Maybe a little too confident, his cockiness a clear front for something else.
“Everybody does it,” he said. “It’s just what guys do with each other.”
He said it with a self-assuredness that made me believe him, even if that had never been my experience. Was this normal?
I wasn’t sure, but here in this remote town far, far away, it was.
He pulled the t-shirt over his head and slipped into the shorts, his mouth curling up into a small grin.
“Welcome to Holden.”
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