Cousin Bo

Reader discretion is adviced, this story contain graphic content depicting violence and rape which may not be suitable to all readers. This is a fictional story and do not portray real events or real persons.

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Author’s Note: Trigger warning! This incestuous story is part BDSM, Mind Control, Stockholm’s Syndrome, and rough rapey sex, so if this isn’t your cup of tea, then I urge you to find another one of my stories to read. 

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 I spend late afternoon poolside.

I try to read a novel like rich vacationer’s do in the movies, but it is next to impossible. It is really hard to focus on the brutish Colonel taking the preciousness of the young servant boy behind the barn because the big hairy chest in front of me is a maddening distraction. So much so it is hard not to stare. The long thick beard, the big, rounded muscles, the mat of fur spreading across his torso like a mountain man—he might be perfect for me if he was just a tad bit shorter and a little less meaty.

August in Indiana: sunny and muggy. Clouds shift over, edged in gold. I’m the only motel guest around, enjoying the quiet, soaking up the afternoon sun, cooling down in the pool shallow when I get to sit. He is the only motel representative in sight. Thick eyebrows, rounded cheeks, hard jaw, brown hair a mop of curls: a wild crash of waves atop and slight overgrowth tamed in the back and at the sides. His bearded face is handsome and stern, unsmiling, friendly just the same as he gives a tight little nod every time he pushes his towel-heaped cart past me while his dark eyes shoot a lingering look on occasion.

It is no secret I’m just another pair of legs for a man like him. Given how dead this place is and how far town is away from here. It’s probably the only good pair he’s seen in a very long time. Though this might’ve given me the creeps any other time, knowing what we knew, I secretly hope he like what he sees. I’m oiled up and sunbathing, sprawled in a lounge chair in my swim trunks and sunglasses like they do in films.

That evening, I’m back in my room, opening my first hard lemonade, wondering where I can fetch some fast food really quick before I call it a night with this bottle. A sharp knock at the door distracts my thought. I open it, bottle in hand. It’s him, the man I quietly drooled over all afternoon. He is still shirtless, silhouetted against a lavender sky. Under his arms, he is carrying towels. In his other hand, he is holding a gym bag.

He scans me up and down. The stern look fades. Here, his grin is crooked and gentle, framed by that thick brown beard. “You need more towels, cuz?”

“Uhhh,” I stumble, faced with my conflicted feelings. My response, “Uh, sure. Thanks.”

In, he strides. He puts the gym bag and the towels on the dresser. Turning, he checks me from head to toe. “You got another one of those?”

“I, uh,” I’m standing in the open doorway. A warm breeze tickles my haired arms and haired toes. His chest hair is so thick I can barely make out the pink of his nipples. “What?”

“One of those hard lemonades,” he chuckles. “This here’s my last room to check. Shift’s done now. Feel like a cool drink to start off the evening. Can you spare one or two?” His voice is a rich baritone. His thick accent reeks of his old home in the Ozarks.

I shut the door. “Yeah, sure, I guess.” The blood in my face rushes down behind the lining of my swim trunks. I’m seven months away from buying these drinks legally. My best boy Woody sent me off with four bottles on my quest towards the Rocky Mountains. I try to act like an adult for once, not a schoolboy worried about being unchaperoned with a stranger. He sits on the armchair with his hairy legs against to what’s next to it. I sit in the chair.

I’m shy and a little anxious, seeing all this large, strange man has to do is roll off the edge of the chair and land right there in my lap. Damn relations! His twang is so soothing it makes this here easier. By the end of my first drink, I got a buzz going on, and we’ve both learned a lot.

His name is Bo, of course. Just Bo, no Beauregard. He is my first cousin, eleven years my senior, though we never met face-to-face until last night. I reached out to him online a year ago in search of my estranged maternal connection. When I told him I was passing through on my way out to Denver he insisted we finally meet. Bo sweetened the deal by inviting me to stay on here. He lives just on the other side of the expressway, in a trailer on its own piece of land to work on cars and sell parts. He bought the motel for next to nothing as sort of a local pay and spray for perfidy men and their partners for the night or for the hour. Bo never been married and plans to keep it that way for a real long time, though there is a sweet girl up in Greencastle he's quite fond of despite his best friend, her brother.

My name is Kerry. Up until three days ago, I was just a twenty-year-old in love with a man who happened to walk in on said man with my fifteen-year-old stepbrother. I could have gotten mad. I chose to get even—with his arch-rival Butch for one. Before word could get out about that, I knew the man had a coworker out at the quarry named Anthony that didn’t mind sticking it to him either. So, there I was bent over the trunk of Anthony’s sports convertible giving all the curious quarrymen a show. Shortly after he came, I was filled with instant regret. Eyes that once saw me as the shy kid were looking for their turn since I gave it away so freely and openly. With a reputation ruined in the heat of the moment, I decided Colorado is the place for me to run to. Being respected as a good wholesome boyfriend depended on it.

Sun’s set, room’s dim, hard lemonades knocked down. We make a game of tossing the glass bottles into the basket. We share a makeshift dinner of sandwich crackers he pulled from the vending machine outside. “I guess history is repeating itself,” Bo says, pouring bourbon from the flash he’s fetched from his gym bag. He hands me a paper cup, moves to the window, draws the drapes, and then slips off his flip-flops from his socked feet before he sits back in the chair. “Mom left home after your mom slept with her boyfriend. She opted for Bentonville hoping for a job at Walmart before Pa dragged her happy ass back to Cedarcreek to be a proper housewife and mother. From what I heard your mom stuck around waiting for that man to make her his wife. Even after she had you fourteen years down the line, she still had to watch your old man marry their much younger cousin. Hope for your sake your little bitch of a stepbrother gets what’s coming to him.”

It is hot in here. The air conditioning isn’t putting out well, and I am just learning my parent’s origin story. I knew Dad ran off and married her cousin. Mom tried to make a fuss about it, and then quickly lost her wind about it. I swore it was an awful thing to do on the surface and vowed to have little to do with the bastard. I just knew I was cheated out of a father, visiting him and his new family over there. He tried to bring me into his fold. I fought him at every turn, not knowing until now it was simply karma.

Bo pulls a rag from the back pocket of his shorts, using it to wipe the sweat off his pecs and hairy pits. I can smell him. It is an earthen aroma, like a sun-warm pasture, the patient labor of animals mixed with motor oil. It is the kind of scent most people don’t take to, not even I, usually, but it is a manly scent. It stirs something within me.

We’re rehashing life. The things we’ve experienced, things we regret past and present, and old loves. He starts talking about gambling and about a Filipina whore outside of Reno when he abruptly starts.

He takes a swig from the flask. “You’re turned on, cuz? Me fucking the brains out of that succulent whore?” he asks the dim room, voice steady and soft for his accent.

I’m scared. I lower my eyes. My legs part abnormally wide. I consider brushing off his inquiry, seeing I am jealous of the whore and all the nasty things he might’ve done to her.

“You’ve had your eyes burning me all day. I could feel ‘em.”

His gentle tone gives me courage. I take a sip from my cup and turn on a nearby lamp to really look at him like I want.

“Don’t be shy. Guys like to look, too, and spread their legs for me. Are you turned on by me making her night?”

“Not by her.”

Bo flashes a blurry smile. “I thought so.” He spreads his legs, unzips his cargo shorts, and whips out his cock. It is half hard, well-hooded, thickly veined. He strokes it stretching the long sheath back and forth across the ugly flat blunt crown. “A cutie like you fucking both those guys to get back at your beau was a turn-on for me, too. Had me intrigued, wondering if my cute little cousin blew both those cocks before you let them fuck you?”

I swallowed the last of my drink like I did Butch, not Anthony. I lied, keeping what was left of my dignity, “Only my boyfriend.”

He is full-on hard now, and his cock is scary big. Bulky, a good nine inches, larger than anything I’ve seen before. “You wanna pretend I’m your boyfriend for the night?”

“Wow,” I say, staring and giggling. I look around to see if there’s anybody around to report this to…anybody else?

“C’mon, Kerry,” Bo dangles his cock in my face.

I linger in hesitation. Should I, shouldn’t I? We’re both guys. Who’s gonna tell? 

I drop to my knees before him and lick my lips. I grab his cock, inspect the undercarriage. Balls! Big Balls! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! “You’re fucking huge! Against everything in me, I’ll pretend. Though, I can’t pretend that you’re not the biggest. Take it easy, okay? No need to dislocate my jaw…cuz.”

I lick his cockhead; he sighs, grasping the nape of my neck firmly. He thrusts into my mouth, gently; not too deep, not too strong for a man of his strength and girth. I get a good rhythm going. His crotch smells wonderful, the perfect mixture of man-musk and soap. His cock is salty and sweet.

“Been awhile,” Bo groans, sitting back in the chair. “Feels real fine, though. Real fine.” He pokes the back of my throat until I gurgle. I catch my breath, wipe drool from my chin and start suckling again.

“Hey, hey,” he says. “Definitely don’t want to come yet.” Gripping my hair, he pulls me off. After a moment, he tugs my hair and again my mouth is full of him.

He is panting, pretty close to coming. I prepare my mouth for his pending climax and left shocked when he pushes me off him so hard I fall back on my ass.

“My bad,” he says, rising to his covered caveman feet. He grabs my hand, helps me up, then suddenly shoves me onto the bed.

“I want to fuck you,” Bo grins peeling off his socks with his toes. “Bet that little kitten of yours is back nice and tight after all that pumping.”

“W-well, w-well,” I stammer, accepting he is going to fuck me. I am not quite sure yet if I want to be fucked by my cousin or not. Obviously, that doesn’t really matter. Bo has made up his mind he is going to fuck me before either of us leave this room.

He is on top of me before I know it. Seizing my wrists, he strong arm me down.

“You’re too big, Bo.” I cry though I question what I said might be taken as an invitational challenge. Good cocks are always big, I was once told. Maybe if said it is because our mothers are sisters, he would stand down, understand my protest better.

His grin turns ominous; there’s a fire in his eyes that extinguishes any sore of reasoning I can present to him. “Why fight it? You’re hot enough in the shorts to fuck a couple of dudes out of spite. Why don’t you want to give yourself to the man you really want to fuck you?”

I want to be upset, furious. I should have passed on the offer to stay here. I should have known something fishy was up. There were only three guests at a twenty-five-room motel when I arrived. I should have made up an excuse then. Found some place else across the state line to rest my head. Got to admit his weight feels great on top of me. My hole shouldn’t be hot for him, though. Sure, I freely got Butch and Anthony off with it. That was pure revenge fucking, doing it to get back at Kaiden.

“You want to give it to me…or do you want me to take it? Give yourself a pass for being so hot for me.” His voice is a gruff growl, a purr in my ear as his mouth works the side of my neck and his hands work my back.

“I want you to earn it!” I censure.

Not surprise my effort is futile. He is far bulkier than I, stronger than I can ever hope to be. I thrash and strain against his weight. Even though he is handling me kindly, it only takes him a moment to get me on my belly and twists my right arm behind me to display his dominance over my feeble body.

“Submit!” Bo commands.

When I finally put up more of a struggle, he wrenches my arm hard and snatches my trunks off.

“Stop, man. That hurts!” The pinning of my arm? The burn over my bum?

“I get to fuck you without fuss if I do?” Bo wrenches my arm again and drives his fingers into my hole.

“No!” I whine, inner pleasure surging through my body betraying my outward objection. “Goddamn it! Let go of me! Get off me, Bo!”

“Submit. You should know your place with me, queer.”

“No, no,” I cry. He is pushing my spot. I fear if he works it hard enough, I might just come.”

“Why? I’m earning this fair and square, Kerry.” Then he abruptly chuckles. “I guess you need a good excuse to play with your cousin’s big cock freely, huh?”

Yes. Yes, I do because this is wrong on so many levels!

There’s a funny little sound, click! Something thin and cold is pressed to my throat.

“My first pocketknife. Whittle many a twig in them Ozarks. Sharpened this morning. You behave now.”

My stomach clenches. My hole becomes arid as his fingers retreat.

“You gonna keep still and be quiet?”

The blade slides along my windpipe, the touch a chilly feather.

“Yeah, yeah,” I swallow hard and go limp. Sweat pops up on my forehead and rains through my eyebrows. I’m close to pissing myself. This is going down this way.

“Up.” Bo jerks me to my feet, shuffles me across the room, bends me over the dresser, pulls my arms behind me. His grip is like vice on my wrists. “Stay like that, or I’ll cut you.”

The sound of another zipper. His shorts again? No. As he grips my wrists with one hand, he is searching his gym bag with the other. “Here we go,” he says. Rope is looped around my crossed wrists, rapidly knotting and tightening. More about my elbows. More around my upper arms and chest. In only a few minutes, Bo has me trussed up tightly. He pulls me upright, shoves me back across the room and back onto the bed. A few minutes more, my ankles crossed and tied. From the gym bag, he fetches a roll of duct tape. He rips off long strips. Wherever he has roped me, now he tapes me up.

“No way you’re gonna get out of that,” Bo snickers. “You ain’t going nowhere. Not that you really want to.” Rolling me onto my back, he straddles my hips. Gazing down at me with what only could be called fondness, he strokes my bare chest.

Desperately, I want to sob, but I mustn’t. I want to yelp for help, but I’m pretty sure he’ll cut me off if I do. Even if I do dare the three other guests at the motel, all men, look like they’re creepy enough to want to join in on his bounty.

“God, don’t hurt me, Cousin Bo!” I say in a wobbly rasp just this side of a whimper.

“Shut up!” From his pocket, he fetches the sweat-rag. Balls it up and stuffs it into my mouth. The cloth tastes and smells great, still damp from the workover of his body. At this point, though, I’m too frightened to be turned on. He fastens the rag in place with rope tied between my teeth and around my head, then more tape plastered over my mouth. I should have shouted for help while I could. Too damn late.

“Done,” Bo says, smoothing the tape over my lips. “Kerry, I got to say. You look mighty fine. How does that feel?”

I lie there trembling, staring up at him, trying to catch my breath. I’ve never been so afraid.

“Answer me, cuz. Does that feel good?” Bo gives my cheek a light slap.

I don’t want to piss him off, but I shake my head anyway. “Umm-um” is all my cloth-packed mouth can manage.

Bo grins the same crooked, gentle grin. “Would it feel better if I told you I sure as shit was not going to hurt you? I just want to have some fun. The knife’s just for show, I swear. Just for the scene. A nice little rough scene is a good way to get over a shitty beau and the other rebound fucks you used to try to get over him, don’t you agree? What if I gave you my word as, well, as blood? That I ain’t gonna hurt you? That I just really, well…”

Bo gets off me. He sits on the edge of the bed and stares at the wall.

“I just really…really….” Bo clicks off the beside lamp and lies down next to me. He pulls me into his arms, my face buried into his chest.

“Ah, Kerry. You’re shaking! Relax!” his touch is so tender, fingertips tracing my back. He touches me as if he has known and loved me for years. “You’re safe with me. You believe me, right, Kerry?”

Something in his tenderness, that’s what convinces me. “Mmm,” I grunt, nodding.

“I need up in your snatch real bad, Kerry. Been awhile since I had more than these hands to get me by. But, well, to be honest, it ain’t just that.” His fingers brush my face, fumbles through my hair. “It’s been too long since I touched a soul. You can be damn sure I’m gonna get it later, but…right now the hard lemonade and the bourbon got me feeling sweet right now. I just want to hold you for a while. Is that alright with you?”

I hesitate, then nod. Under his soft strokes, my hole slowly regains its moisture, my trembling soon subsides. My body’s telling me what my mind feared to admit at the pool. Butch and Anthony were for my ex, this master of a man was for me.

Reaching down, Bo plays with my cock. It drips precum with each passing minute with him there. “Nice. Damn nice. Wet enough for a broken fire hydrant to be jealous. You like this alright, huh?” His lips brushed the top of my head. “Think I found me my bitch in my favorite cousin.” He gives a long sigh, deep with relief. I do the same after his fingers work me over.

“Fuck, ain’t you hot?”

Under the bright light, two men appear in the dresser mirror. The larger man is proud with a tight smile and glowing, triumphant eyes. The smaller man woven round in rope with wild hair and wilder eyes, a strip of silver sealing his mouth. The former man is a conqueror. The latter man is his captive.

With my captor’s help, I hopped on bound feet to the bathroom. My nipples are on fire. After some lengthy snuggling, Bo held me down and chewed on them until I teared up and began sobbing.

Things go dark as Bo tapes up my eyes. He helps me into the tub and rolls me onto my belly. He hog-ties me, so tightly my fingers brush my heels. The cold porcelain feels good against my burning chest.

“Lotta beer,” say Bo. He pisses for a long time, a warm splashing in my hair, over my back and ass, trickling down my buttcrack.

Working a wet finger up inside me back there, he finger-fucks me. He isn’t satisfied until I lay still and moan.

“Feel good, huh? My dick’s going up there too, whether you like it or not, and that’ll really get what’s-his-face out under your skin, won’t it? Now I gotta get home and let the dog out or she’ll mess the floor. Be back in an hour or two.”

Footsteps, click of the light switch. “I think you know by now I ain’t gonna hurt you,” Bo says, his voice even gentler than before, “but in case you wanna cry for help, well, go ahead. The only other folks here are far on the other side. Three regulars that have standing rooms for the extended stay deal. Two of the just run through methhead skanks half past dead just so they can do God-knows what to them just so the other man can out top that, so a bound live one as pretty as you might be a pleasant treat for those sons of bitches. The third guy really has a heart, but his whore doesn’t and neither does his wife. They’ll cut a bitch, bitch or boy-bitch, even each other every full moon. Out front are the access road and the freeway. Out back’s nothing but acres and acres of abandoned farmland. And the day manager is the same as the night manager and, well, that’s me. Please, pretty please shout to your heart’s content, Kerry. Ain’t no one who gonna help you will hear you.”

Click of the door close. I lie in vestiges of cooling piss. I fight my bond until the rope cuts into my chest and arms, until my wrists and ankles are warm throbs, long enough to know I’m fair and squarely caught. I try to scream, just to see what noise I can muster. I can muster being raped by strangers, not by family. The best I get is a ragged grunt outside of the room’s window and I take that it was meant for the vending machine.

Heck, why cry for help? I’m going to get fucked in a deviant way anyhow. I’ve long since forgotten about the men I’ve left behind.

Another golden shower wakes me. The tape is then peeled off my eyes.

“Y’aw right, chicken bitch? Y’aw right?” With the pocketknife, Bo cuts the rope tethering my ankles to my wrists. It is a relief to stretch out, after so long enduring the tight discomfort of a hog tie.

Bo’s real drunk, I can tell. He sits on the toilet lid, drinking from his flask, talking, talking, slurring his words. I lie on the side in a fresh puddle of piss and listen to him drone. He tells me how much he loves the girl in Greencastle, Kate. How she had a crush on him since she was a little girl. How ripe she was for the picking at eighteen, vulnerable and innocent, being his best friend’s sister. He was her first. He wanted to commit, really he did. He was just thoroughly convinced he needed to sow his wild oats like everyone said. Kate was hurt but stuck by him with love. He didn’t want her to leave, but the thing he did with other girls were quite fun. He understood the line. The thing he did with those floozies were things he could do with a sweet girl like Kate. Then the horn got to him. If Kate truly loved him, she could suck his cock and swallow his load. She did. If Kate was on the rag, she could take it up the ass. She did. Bo went from choking and slapping those whores while fucking to choking and slapping Kate because of those girls. What if Kate was no different than a whore sucking my dick, swallowing my load, and taking it up the ass? He took a piss inside of her after he came. He didn’t stop until after he was done. She didn’t break. She was broken. Her eyes didn’t welcome him warmly anymore. She just opened and took his needy cock without fuss. He called her worthless. None of her holes were interested in working him over anymore. That was three years ago. He thought he could be a man alone, live and work on his land. Loneliness in the middle of nowhere can get quite lonely, even for those only interested in their own thoughts. He bought the motel thinking it could be great as a poor man’s sex lair, only for it to be a drug and alcohol den for the lowest of the low.

Bo drifts silent. He drops his flask. He puts his face in his hands and cries, gulping, sniffling, cursing his former love for making him fall in love with her, cursing himself for needing an edge to get off. And the queers, the broken queers that got off on him pushing the envelope and circled around again and again for more brokenness.

I want to hold him so badly, kiss his salted wet cheeks, tell him how handsome he is, how sorry I am he’s hurting. All I can do is lie here and watch him cry.

He’s done. “Goddammit,” he mutters, wiping his eyes with the back of his hands. “I ain’t this much of a pussy, I swear. You want loose?”

I mumble in confirmation. Bo frees me. The tape hurts when he peels it off my skin. He rubs my rope-chafed wrists and stiff limbs, giving my lips a sloppy kiss I strangely return. We take a long shower. I help him stagger to the bed. “Wanna fuck you but too damn drunk. Sorry, cuz, sorry,” he mutters, snuggling up against me before he passes out. I think about taking advantage of the situation, turning the tables, taping him up and running away from this place. But he needs the touch of a Kate. I hold him while he sleeps.

I wake up hands kneading my chest, his hard cock pressed against my ass. I give Bo a little resistance just so he’ll truss me up again. Soon, I’m snuggly roped, taped, blindfolded, and gagged just as I was before, but not nearly as nervous about what is to come. Just excited. Bo sits on the edge of the bed and pulls me over his lap. He gives my ass some solid slaps, then spanks me, hard and steady with a small paddle. Yawping, I writhe around. He holds me down and beats me harder.

I stop struggling after a while. “More?” he says. “Bet you can take more.”

I nod. Bo continues. He strikes me for a really long time. I gnaw my gag and fight back tears. I finally let go. My pain transcends the physical and cleanses out the emotional over the past few days.

“Nice and red,” Bo announces, running a hand over my burning buttocks. “You took a helluva lot. You’re definitely a sturdy queer, cuz. Must stronger than I think you give yourself credit for.”

Bo rolls me onto my belly, spreads my burning cheeks. “Time for a ride.”

Bo grabs me by the waist and pulls me up a bit higher to meet him. I spread my legs open for him, as much as bound ankles allow. Still, I let him know I am eager for him. His cock presses against the edge of my vulnerable taint. He rubs it brusquely towards my hole, pushes the tip in a little and pulling it out again.

“You’re really not a whore, Kerry, but you will be.” He snarls in enchantment.

He grabs my waist and pulls my rear up a bit higher. He pushes his cock a few inches into me, damning the bounds. Then he pulls it out again repeating the movement unremittingly before he is comfortable I’m open enough for him. He enters me steady without the rush. His cock is fat. My hole is still dry, but very giving to him and his size. Spits fall from his mouth onto his cock, my hole moistens and loosens for him somewhat to his delight. I feel incredibly stuffed. He propels into me. I feel his swinging balls and its hairs tickling my balls and its hairs, more so after he cut my ankle binds.

He calls me all sort of dirty names making use of me. Some I heard before, some I hadn’t. Many I’ve never heard quite phrased the way he phrases them.

I feel ashamed being so open for him like this. My cousin’s big fat cock is made to fuck me and my hole is made to receive it. I am dazed and susceptible, and then, in the back of my mind there being an us.

“Bo, please!” I try to scream for him not to come in me, but my gag chokes every word. I fear his seminal fluid entering me might be the thing that bonds us to the point of no return.

He just ignores me; tells he is going to turn me into a whore.

A couple minutes more he starts a familiar groan, his big fat cock going even further into me. I feel his cock spurting. It is warm and magnificent and a lot of it!

He grunts and sighs. I try to fall back into the bed. The best I can do is kick my knees back and fall into it less gracefully.

He slaps my ass. He spreads my cheeks. “Time for another ride, Kerry.”

The probe of his busy fingers forces their way into my cavity. I’m not sure what his aim is until something tells me to push out. I do, bringing the splooge back to my opening. He is delighted. Then his cock bumps against my hole. He enters me super-slow this time. It hurts real bad anyway. Feels like my flesh is a fragile fabric being stretched and torn. I shake my head, struggle, beg him to discontinue. “Easy, easy,” he growls, clamping a hand over my mouth. When he pushes past my last resistance, the sharp hurt makes me wince and whimper, but seconds later the painful burn is grading into pleasure and comfort. Bo slides it further inside, whispering, “Alright, Kerry. Alright. Can you take a little more?” When I nod, he gives me another inch, and then another and another. Finally, he is all the way in thrusting gentler than before. I really feel his cock this time. I’ve never been filled this full, and now it feels wonderful!

Once I’m broken in, Bo wraps his arms around me and plows me hard. When he shifts me onto my side, he pounds me hard. The rapture mounts and mounts until I’m half wild, bucking against him, shouting into my gag, begging him to fuck me harder, as we’re rocking together like high pines in a storm. My captor snarls as he rides me, a string of nastiness that only maddens me more. “Ever been fucked by a dick this big in your ass, cuz? You got a tight ass. Tighter than most of the queers around here, I’ll say. Fucking sweet!” All I can do is nod. I wasn’t lying he was the biggest I’ve seen, experienced in both holes. I moan and squeeze my muscles tighter around him.

“Here we go!” Bo pants in my ear. His hips pumps, driving his length into me. He grips my cock, I clenched my cheeks and—gasp!—we both pulsed our sticky ends.

I’m sunk in this come-down drowse. My hole is oozing a renewed wetness along with his other load. Bo pulls me back against him. “Did I hurt you, cuz?”

I shake my head. What hurt there was sure turned into heaven fast.

“I’ll be wanting me loads more of this.” He pats my thigh and works his fingers in my can. “How ‘bout it?”

I give an eager grunt, rubbing my poor rear again his fingers.

“That’s what I thought. Look, cuz,” he says, voice suddenly husky. “How ‘bout a little friendly kidnapping? I mean, uh, how ‘bout I take you home with me? Put off Colorado and stick around here for a while, huh? I sure could use the company.” He clears his throat. “I’ve been looking for someone like you, and I think I can be a nice distraction from….”

I nod happily.

My captor heaves a sigh. He kisses my shoulder, then swats my butt again. “Great! Let’s go! I’m sober enough to drive, I swear. We’ll pack up your shit and fetch your car later.”

Bo dresses. A click of the door as he peers outside.

“Coast’s clear of Rob, Bob, and Larry,” he affirms. “…and the whores. Ready?”

When I nod, he hoists me up, wraps a steady arm around me. “Lean on me. Trust me, Kerry, I ain’t gonna let you fall.” With his aid, I hop to the door and out into the humid night.

Sound of crickets, warm concert beneath my bound feet. I sway against my cousin, blind and helpless. Suddenly, I’m terrified and more aroused than ever before. To be so vulnerable, so entirely within another man’s power.

“No worries,” say Bo. “Three a.m. Too late for the suspicious night crawlers in these parts.” He helps me hop a few yards more. Jingle of keys, snick of a popped car trunk.

Bo helps me inside. To my surprise, it is lined with soft blankets. “A little nest for my little cousin.” Bo snickers. “Yeah, I’ve been planning to take you home with me when I first checked you in.” He positions me on my side, slips a pillow underneath my head, covers me with a blanket, tucks me in. “Cozy?”

I give a vigorous nod.

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head, Kerry. Home is just four turns away eight minutes from here. I’m a sane driver. You’ll see. My trailer isn’t a shithole. It looks just like a house. It’s just prefab.”

The trunk snaps close. Flip-flops click-clack on asphalt. The engine turns over. I curl into my warm cocoon as we move forward on this journey together.

I spend the late morning in the windowsill gazing out. I drink my cup of gourmet java with both hands in my footy pajamas. I look out at Pikes Peak from the master suite of the lodge outside of Colorado Springs. I try to embody the women from those coffee commercials: awaken by the rich aroma, invigorated by the promise of a new day. Totally lost in thought, totally grateful for all I have. I am all these things. Less than an hour ago, I was oiled and roped to a bedpost with my husband’s moist gym sock stuffed in my mouth. He refuses to use a proper ball gag on me anymore. He fears I might accidentally swallow it.

The mountain air excites me. Eight years after I set out from home, running away from my problems, I am finally heading up the highway to the Mile High City. Well, through it. On our way to Greeley, just an hour north, so my husband can start his job as a mechanic for the town. Even as I trek forward on this journey, I find myself more and more reflecting back on Indiana. It suddenly becomes a part of me, my makeup. Cousin Bo, his motel, his trailer home.

Life was wrapped in a pretty little bow when Bo pulled me out of his trunk. He gave. I received. He led. I followed. He demanded. I served with a smile, in every possible way. Six months later, Bo proposed to me. Two weeks later we were married up in New York, the nearest state gays and first cousins could wed freely. We were happy—for a while—finding new ways to keep each other happy and interested as two cousins, husbands, master and slave. Then Kate reared her head letting him know she was moving to Michigan. He followed behind her making up every excuse to leave town for a few days once a month for two years. He never said anything about Cheboygan, where she was, but he was gone long enough to get there and come back with plenty of rest and fucking in between.

I tried not to let it get under my skin.

Inevitably, it did. Especially when it became clear he thought of her as his spouse, and me just the cousin-whore he shared a marriage certificate with. Not ideal. Something I could live with, though. Our sex life never wavered; it just forfeited its raw sense of adventure. Bo might come around, I told myself. I loved him. I knew he still loved me. More than Kate, dare I say, it was just different. He didn’t have to hide her from his mom, my aunt, and the rest of our family. He didn’t mind the fallout over us being related, but me being a guy—that was the shame. He still wanted the girl next door. Kate. Even if she turned full tramp for him, she would never be enough. She isn’t built that way.

Dreams were dash of happily ever after when Bo roped, taped, blindfolded and gagged me for three of his pals down at the motel to triple penetrate me and use me as a urinal afterwards. The endless hours of fucking indoors and out were the jolt I needed to know it was finally over. He set me up. No need to explain. He’d gotten her pregnant. He planned to leave me so his firstborn had a chance of being his legitimate heir. I thought he thought if he could get me addicted onto other cocks, I might freely leave him for someone else. He thought if he blackmailed me with the photos of being an “unfaithful” slut I would quietly give him a divorce and walk away; brandishing me the whore so his mistress could walk away clean about breaking up our marriage so she could turn around and marry him, too.

I chose to play chicken with Bo. I won many of the battles. I lost the war.

When I didn’t budge, Bo posted the pictures online. Strange. Men can sniff out a gangbang slut if he wants to. Soon enough the motel became a sex den Bo initially foresaw. Things got so rambunctious with my newfound fame and the scores of men I took on he became infamously known as a cuckold after being tied down and forced to watch on one of his many trips back to the motel.

He didn’t care. He left again for Michigan to be with her.

I finally agreed to a divorce, if he left me the motel minus what he paid for it. It was only fair. He never turned a profit from it, and I was the reason it was suddenly doing well. He missed his window for his firstborn not to be born a bastard. He married her on the heels of our divorced being finalized. Never knowing her Bo was married to a man, his cousin, no less.

I was three months deep into a committed relationship with Ray when I finally made up my mind to forgive Bo, to reflect on the good times we had since they were quite plentiful while they lasted. Make many new memories with Ray. Ray is no Bo. He loves like Ray, and I feel like his Kate. He fucks me like a rabid dog, and I feel like his dirty little bitch. Happy.

I was six months into this Zen and engaged the day I pulled up to the motel with police cars surrounding it. Rob, Bob, and Larry steered me clear of the front door. Bo was there. He was inside at the front desk. Self-inflicted gunshot to the head. He gambled it all away, the note said. The kid wasn’t his. It belonged to her brother.

My three former penetrators took the motel off my hands for a handsome sum some months after that. After some time, Ray and I got hitched in New Jersey, where he contracted to work for a private company.

The drive to our new home is a little more than two hours away. I am disappointed on one hand, happy on the other. If I knew Greeley was this close, I would’ve taken over the wheel last night and drove past the lodge to get here. I am tired of moving. I want to be at home, wherever this mysterious place maybe for now. If I had done this, I would’ve missed the scenery and kicked myself for not staying over at the lodge. Our bed is at our new home. It just isn’t set up. This would have forced us to look for a room in Greeley, if not Ray staying up half the night putting the bed together. Ray must always take control in this regard. Flare ups of Bo driving me blindly into a ditch plays with my subconscious sometimes when this happens. Ray fucks me this morning in this lodge. He fucks me again in our new Colorado abode.

I am on my hands and knees on our laminated floor in the kitchen. His cock is still lodged deep in my ass two minutes after he came. He is getting ready. Finally, he takes a long bladder-draining piss inside of it. This has been his thing for years now, after I told him of how Bo did this to Kate before I came along. I say her heart for him died that day. She wasn’t built for this, and it made her easy pickings for any man, including her horny bastard brother. Ray brushes off the connections and lies. He says he does this because he always has to piss after he comes. Most guys try to call it rape after the fact. Most guys aren’t me. This makes cleanup easy, he continues. Not at all! Aside from the obvious, once he sees my ass in the air cleaning up after the fact, Ray wants to go then and there. I’m just one man, he reminds me jokingly, as he saw the picture of me taking three at once and the video of me taking six in a row. His warmness spreads through my guts. My eyes and heart welcome him like it did our very first time. His plentiful piss springs out of my butthole. We have marked out territory. We are at home in Colorado as husband and husband.