I didn’t go back to sleep after Jonas left the room.
I lay there for almost twenty minutes, staring at the ceiling, my cock still half-hard from everything that had happened during the night. His scent was everywhere — on my pillow, on my t-shirt, even on my skin. I could still feel the weight of his leg over mine and the way he had held my face against his armpit like it was the most normal thing in the world.
Eventually I got up, put on a pair of old shorts and a t-shirt, and went downstairs. The house was quiet. Through the kitchen window I could see the garage door open. I heard the rhythmic sound of weights clinking.
I told myself I was just going to get some water.
I ended up walking toward the garage anyway.
Jonas was in the middle of his workout.
He had pushed the car out to make space and set up a barbell on the floor. The morning sun was already strong, and the garage was hot. He was shirtless. Only wearing a pair of black athletic shorts that sat low on his hips and a pair of old sneakers.
I stopped at the entrance, half-hidden by the doorframe, and just watched.
Jonas was… a lot.
He was taller than me by a good four or five inches. Around 6’2”, maybe. His shoulders were wide and rounded from years of lifting, tapering down into a thick, solid chest. His pecs were heavy and defined, with small, dark nipples. A light dusting of hair sat between them and ran down the center of his stomach in a thin line that disappeared into his shorts.
His arms were massive. Not the kind of muscle you get from casual gym visits — this was serious size. His biceps were thick and peaked even when he wasn’t flexing, and his triceps looked like thick ropes of muscle on the back of his arms. Blue and green veins ran down from his shoulders to his forearms, standing out against his lightly tanned skin.
When he bent down to grab the barbell, I got a full view of his back. Wide, powerful lats that flared out, a deep groove running down the center of his spine, and muscles shifting under his skin with every movement. His waist wasn’t small, but it was tight compared to his upper body, and his ass filled out the back of his shorts in a way that made it hard to look away.
He stood up with the barbell and started doing deadlifts. His legs were just as thick as his arms — powerful quads that strained against the fabric of his shorts every time he straightened up. His calves were cut and defined. Sweat was already running down his spine and disappearing into the waistband of his shorts.
And then there were his armpits.
Every time he lifted the bar and his arms went up, I got a clear view. They weren’t shaved. Dark hair filled the hollows, slightly damp from sweat. When he finished a set and dropped the bar, he lifted one arm to wipe his forehead and I saw everything — the thick patch of hair, the skin slightly red from the heat, and the way a drop of sweat slowly rolled down from the center of his pit toward his ribs.
He looked like the kind of guy who had never once worried about how he looked without a shirt on. Confident. Solid. Masculine in a way that felt almost aggressive.
Jonas racked the barbell and turned around, grabbing a towel from the workbench. That’s when he noticed me standing there.
A slow, cocky grin spread across his face.
“Well, well. Look who decided to come watch the show.”
I felt my face heat up immediately.
“I was just… getting some air.”
“Sure you were.” He wiped the sweat from his chest and neck, then threw the towel over his shoulder. “Come here.”
I hesitated.
“Come here, David.”
His tone left no room for argument. I walked into the garage.
Jonas looked even bigger up close. His skin was shiny with sweat. A few drops ran down between his pecs and over his stomach. He smelled stronger now — that same heavy, masculine scent from last night, but more intense because of the workout.
He stepped closer and lifted one arm, resting his hand on the back of his neck.
“Since you’re here, you can help me.”
“Help you with what?”
He smirked. “Check my form. Or just stand there and enjoy the view. I don’t mind either way.”
I didn’t know where to look. His chest was right in front of me. His arms looked even thicker this close. I could see every vein, every striation in his shoulders.
Jonas noticed me staring and chuckled.
“You keep looking at my pits, little cousin.”
“I’m not—”
“Yeah, you are.” He lowered his arm but didn’t step back. “It’s fine. I already know you like it.”
He reached out and grabbed the back of my head with one big hand, the same way he had done last night. His grip was firm but not painful. He pulled me forward until my face was only a few inches from his chest.
“Smell,” he ordered, voice low and casual.
My heart was pounding so hard I was sure he could hear it.
I leaned in slowly and inhaled. The scent was overwhelming up close — sweat, musk, and that underlying smell that was purely Jonas. It went straight to my head.
He held me there for a few seconds, then let go.
“Good boy,” he said, patting my cheek twice, a little harder than necessary. “See? Not so hard.”
He turned around and went back to his workout like nothing had happened. I stood there, breathing hard, watching the muscles in his back flex and shift as he lifted the barbell again.
Every time he raised his arms, I got another view of those dark, sweaty armpits. Every time he grunted with effort, the sound went straight through me. He was completely focused on what he was doing, but I could tell he knew I was watching. He was showing off on purpose.
After a few more sets, he dropped the bar and turned to face me again, breathing heavily. Sweat was running down his torso in thin lines. His shorts were damp in places. He looked even bigger now that he was pumped.
He walked over to me and stopped right in front of me, close enough that I had to tilt my head back slightly to look at his face.
His face was handsome in a rough, masculine way. Strong jaw covered in a light layer of stubble. Full lips. Straight nose. Dark eyebrows and intense brown eyes that always looked like they were laughing at some private joke. His hair was still short on the sides and longer on top, messy from the workout.
He reached out and grabbed my chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting my head up.
“You’re staring again,” he said quietly.
I swallowed. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry.” He smirked. “Just don’t lie about it.”
He let go of my chin and wiped more sweat from his chest with his hand. Then, without warning, he wiped that same hand across my face, leaving a streak of his sweat on my cheek and lips.
“There,” he said, satisfied. “Now you smell like me again.”
He turned and walked toward the house, tossing one last comment over his shoulder.
“Shower’s free if you want it. Or you can stay out here and keep watching. Your choice, little cousin.”
I stood alone in the garage, heart racing, face still damp with his sweat, and the image of his body burned into my mind.
This summer was going to be a lot harder than I thought.
My [18] American Jock Cousin [19] - Part IV
The next morning, I woke up to the sound of the shower running. Jonas had already gotten up. My pillow still smelled like him from the night before.
When he came out of the bathroom, he was only wearing a towel around his waist. Water droplets ran down his chest and stomach. He looked even bigger in the morning light — broad shoulders, thick arms still slightly pumped from yesterday’s workout, and that same cocky expression on his face.
“Morning, lil’ cousin,” he said, rubbing a towel over his wet hair. “You look like shit. Didn’t sleep well?”
I didn’t answer.
He smirked and dropped the towel he was using, then started drying his chest. “Get dressed. We’re going for a run.”
I blinked. “A run?”
“Yeah. You need to move that skinny ass of yours. Sitting around reading all day is making you soft.” He pulled on a pair of grey running shorts and a black tank top that clung to his body. “Come on. Ten minutes. I’m not asking.”
Ten minutes later we were outside. It was already hot, even though it was still early. Jonas led the way and I followed, struggling to keep up with his long strides. We ran through the quiet streets of the town and then turned onto a dirt path that led into the woods behind the neighborhood.
After about twenty minutes of running, we were deep in the forest. The path was narrow and shaded by tall trees. Jonas finally slowed down and stopped in a small clearing.
He was breathing heavily, chest rising and falling. His black tank top was completely soaked with sweat, clinging to every muscle. Dark patches spread under his arms and down the center of his chest. Sweat ran down his neck and disappeared into the fabric.
He pulled the tank top off in one smooth motion and tossed it on the ground.
“Fuck, it’s hot,” he muttered, wiping his face with his forearm.
I tried not to stare, but it was impossible.
His chest was broad and thick, covered in a light sheen of sweat. His nipples were hard from the run. The line of hair between his pecs was damp. His abs looked even more defined now that he was pumped and sweaty. And his armpits… they were on full display. Dark, wet hair clung to the skin, and I could see beads of sweat slowly rolling down from the center of each pit.
Jonas noticed me looking and grinned.
“Enjoying the view again?”
I looked away quickly. “I’m just catching my breath.”
“Sure you are.” He stepped closer. “Come here.”
I hesitated.
“David.” His voice dropped into that tone he used when he expected to be obeyed. “Come here.”
I walked toward him until I was standing right in front of him. He was taller than me, and this close I had to look up slightly. His body heat was intense. The smell of his sweat was strong and masculine — much stronger than yesterday.
He lifted one arm and rested his hand behind his head, exposing his armpit completely.
“Lick it.”
My eyes widened. “What?”
“You heard me.” His voice was calm, almost casual. “You’ve been staring at them since I got here. Now you’re gonna clean them.”
“Jonas… that’s—”
“Shut up and do it.” He grabbed the back of my head with his other hand and pulled me forward. “It’s just sweat, little cousin. Don’t act like it’s a big deal.”
My face was pressed against his chest first. The skin was hot and slick. I could taste the salt on my lips without even moving.
Jonas pushed my head lower, guiding me toward his right armpit.
“Lick.”
I closed my eyes and dragged my tongue slowly across the wet hair and skin.
The taste was strong — salty, musky, and completely him. Jonas let out a low, satisfied sound above me.
“Yeah… just like that. Clean it up.”
He held me there while I licked. My tongue moved over the damp hair, collecting the sweat. Some of it dripped down onto my chin. The whole time, Jonas kept his hand on the back of my head, controlling the pressure.
When he was satisfied with that side, he switched arms and made me do the same to the other armpit. This one was even sweatier. I licked slowly, feeling the texture of his hair and the heat of his skin against my tongue.
“Good boy,” he murmured. “See? Not so hard. You’re actually useful like this.”
After a minute, he pulled my head back slightly and pushed it down toward the center of his chest.
“Now here.”
I licked a slow line down between his pecs, following the trail of sweat that ran down his stomach. Jonas watched me the entire time with that same arrogant, half-smirking expression.
When I finished, he finally let go of my head. I stepped back, breathing hard, my face wet and my heart pounding so loud I was sure he could hear it.
Jonas picked up his tank top from the ground and wiped his chest and armpits with it, then threw it at me.
“Carry that.”
He started walking back toward the path like nothing had happened.
“Come on. We’re not done running yet.”
I stood there for a few seconds, the damp tank top in my hands, the taste of his sweat still on my tongue, and my cock painfully hard in my running shorts.
Jonas looked back over his shoulder.
“Hurry up, little cousin. Unless you want me to make you lick more when we get home.”
He laughed and kept walking.
I followed him in silence, my face burning and my body buzzing with something I didn’t want to name.
What the fuck was going on?
My [18] American Jock Cousin [19] - Part V
After the run, the rest of the morning passed in a strange, heavy silence between us. Jonas acted completely normal — cocky, loud, and annoying as usual — but I couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened in the woods. The taste of his sweat was still on my tongue. Every time I looked at him, I felt my face heat up.
In the afternoon, the heat became unbearable. My mom had set up the small pop-up pool in the backyard before Jonas arrived, and we both ended up there to cool off.
Jonas was wearing a pair of black swim trunks that sat low on his hips. They were wet and clung to his body, making it impossible not to notice how thick his thighs and ass looked. His chest and shoulders glistened with water as he floated on his back, eyes closed, completely relaxed.
I tried to keep my distance, but it was hard in such a small pool.
After a while, Jonas got out and sat on the edge, legs in the water. He ran a hand through his wet hair and looked at me with that familiar smirk.
“You’re too quiet today, little cousin.”
“I’m just hot,” I mumbled.
He chuckled. “Yeah… you are.”
Before I could react, he grabbed my arm and pulled me out of the pool with ridiculous ease. I stumbled onto the grass and he followed, still holding my wrist.
“Since you’re so tense,” he said, “let’s loosen you up.”
“Jonas, what are you—”
He didn’t let me finish. In one quick movement, he swept my legs and took me down to the grass. It wasn’t aggressive, but it was firm. Within seconds he had me pinned on my back, his heavy body straddling my waist. His knees were on either side of my ribs, and his hands were holding my wrists down beside my head.
“Wrestling time,” he said with a grin. “Just like when we were kids. Remember?”
I tried to push him off, but it was useless. He was much stronger than me. His wet skin was hot against mine, and water from his body dripped onto my chest.
“Jonas, get off—”
“Make me,” he teased.
He shifted his weight and easily overpowered my attempts to escape. After a minute of struggling, he let go of my wrists and moved up, planting one knee on my chest to keep me down. Then he lifted his right foot and pressed it firmly against my face.
His foot was big — much bigger than mine — and still damp from the pool. I could smell the mix of chlorine, sweat, and skin. His toes pressed against my cheek and mouth.
“Lick it,” he ordered, voice low and amused.
My heart started racing.
“Jonas…”
“Do it.” He pressed his foot down a little harder, not enough to hurt, but enough to make it clear he wasn’t playing around. “You licked my chest and pits this morning without complaining. This is nothing.”
I hesitated for a few seconds, then slowly stuck out my tongue and dragged it across the sole of his foot. The taste was salty and slightly chlorinated. Jonas let out a quiet, satisfied sound above me.
“Good boy. Keep going.”
He kept his foot on my face while I licked. I could feel the rough skin of his sole and the weight of his leg. My cock was getting hard in my swim trunks, and I prayed he wouldn’t notice.
But then he shifted again.
Jonas moved down, still keeping me pinned, and lowered his hips. That’s when I felt it.
Through the thin, wet fabric of his swim trunks, something thick and hard pressed against my stomach. It was unmistakable. Jonas was hard. His cock was pressed right against me, separated only by two layers of wet fabric.
I froze.
Jonas didn’t move away. If anything, he pressed down a little more, letting me feel the full weight and heat of it. He looked down at me with that same cocky, half-lidded expression.
“What’s wrong, little cousin?” he asked, voice rough. “You stopped licking.”
I didn’t know what to do. My own cock was now fully hard, trapped between us, and I was terrified he would feel it. At the same time, the feeling of his hard dick pressing against me was driving me insane.
“Jonas…” My voice came out shaky. “You’re… hard.”
He smirked, completely unbothered.
“So what? It happens when I wrestle. Don’t make it weird.” He leaned down a little, his face closer to mine. “Unless you’re the one making it weird.”
He lifted his foot from my face and replaced it with his hand, gripping my jaw firmly.
“You’ve been looking at me like that since I got here,” he said quietly. “Staring at my body. Smelling me. Licking my sweat. And now you’re hard too, aren’t you?”
I couldn’t answer. My face was burning.
Jonas chuckled, low and dark.
“Thought so.”
He stayed on top of me for a few more seconds, letting me feel his hard cock against my stomach, before finally rolling off. He stood up and adjusted his swim trunks without any shame, the outline of his erection still very obvious.
“Get up,” he said, offering me his hand. “Pool’s getting boring anyway.”
I took his hand and let him pull me up. My legs felt weak.
Jonas looked at me for a long moment, water still dripping down his chest and abs. Then he reached out and ruffled my wet hair roughly.
“Relax, David. It’s just wrestling.” He grinned. “Don’t overthink it.”
He turned and walked toward the house, leaving me standing there in the backyard with my heart pounding and my cock still hard in my trunks.
I watched him go, unable to stop staring at his broad back and the way his wet swim shorts clung to his ass.
I was losing my mind.
And the worst part was that I didn’t know how much longer I could pretend I wasn’t completely gone for my own cousin.
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