Message-ID: <43357asstr$1057979404@assm.asstr-mirror.org> Return-Path: X-Originating-Email: [stardog105@hotmail.com] From: "Bob Stardog105" Mime-Version: 1.0 X-Original-Message-ID: X-OriginalArrivalTime: 11 Jul 2003 22:44:11.0189 (UTC) FILETIME=[F22DC650:01C347FD] X-ASSTR-Original-Date: Fri, 11 Jul 2003 15:44:10 -0700 Subject: {ASSM} Cousin Malcolm -- Part 3 of 3 (boy/boy sex exploration, true) Date: Fri, 11 Jul 2003 23:10:04 -0400 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation X-Story-Submission: X-Moderator-ID: hecate, gill-bates Cousin Malcolm -- Part 3 of 3 Not to bring everybody down, but as you might have noticed Malcolm and I were by this point going in divergent directions. I had an itch I could not scratch. Malcolm not only could scratch anywhere he wanted, he didn't have an itch to begin with. No doubt my sexual antics wore thin on him as he found a certain sexual maturity that always eluded me. No doubt he had opportunities with the other gender to give him probably what he liked better. But this bleak background did not stop us from having sex. It was not constant. It was not regular. It was less satisfying, but we still did "it." xxx It was Sunday morning, a little late. We had returned from mass. Our moms were in the kitchen lining things up for a large lunch. Our dads were off someplace, not sure where. And our junior siblings were outside playing. Malcolm went looking for the Sunday paper, the comics section. I tagged along. It was in his parents' bedroom, way down the hall. Not where anyone would be expected to walk in just now. Malcolm spread the paper out on the made up bed, lay/sat to read a while. I reclined immediately behind him, our bodies touched when he turned a page. "You know," I said out of nowhere, "I just figured out how babies are made. Yuck." He turned a little to half-look at me, gave an ambiguous expression that could have been agreement, or equally likely, his annoyance I could be so hopelessly unaware. I didn't care. I had no way to talk with him. With our siblings underfoot and our parents around in other rooms, we did not mention private topics let alone discuss each other's activities from the night before. I couldn't imagine his saying something like, "Hey that was a great come last night. We godda do that again real soon." It just would not happen. So if I said something dumb, it was dumb about something I was interested in. We stayed in position, me looking over his shoulder while he read the funnies. "Ah, you ever do anything with [name of his little sister]?" I asked. "No," quite shocked, "she's too little. You do anything with [name of my little brother]?" "No," I answered immediately, equally shocked by the idea. "He's too young." I didn't add he was an impossible brat. Malcolm kept reading. Circumstances looked safe. I leaned forward and eased my hand between Malcolm's shirt and pants, then worked a path into his briefs meeting bare skin. He made a little snort, not pleased with me, but did not indicate I should remove the hand. I snuck it all the way in, cupping his genital package. It was a great feeling. He began to erect. He lightly brought his hand up, touched mine, a "time to go" message. I removed my hand. "Um, could you feel me then?" I pleaded. He weighed his choices and decided the least troublesome was to comply. He did not change position, just reached behind his back snaking his way into my pants. His hand found me hard, pressed to my belly. He kept going in until his fingertips were lightly curled around my scrotum. It felt super. He did not give up reading. As he'd move from one section of the double page to another he'd telegraph a jiggle into me, along my compressed dick and fast tightening balls. He made my balls tighten through constant changing fingertip pressure. Eventually when they had them snugged down, his fingers worked the margin of my scrotal pouch, now just a wrinkled patch. That's when I jizzed. He felt the pulse travel along the thick channel on the underbelly of my dick. Squirt, squirt, squirt. "Ah sorry," I said as I stood up, letting his hand, now sticky, free. I did a quick visit to the bathroom, gratefully available, to spruce up. If Malcolm thought this was funny, pathetic, or if he did not think of it at all, I didn't know. He hadn't looked up from the comics. xxx We were vacationing at the beach. My family had allowed me to stay nights with Malcolm's in their cabin. My parents and little brother were a few doors down in their own bungalow. The sleeping arrangement at our place was that Malcolm had the top level of bunk beds, his little sister the bottom level, while I slept across the room on the couch. In the evening we three were watching television in our room. His parents were watching a TV in their bedroom. They were unlikely to come in on us. His little sister lay, probably asleep, on her bunk alone. Malcolm and I sat close together on his top bunk, ostensibly watching TV but in fact with our hands in each others pajamas bottoms, jacking each other as a warm up. "Come over when it gets real late," Malcolm advised me. I agreed. We continued handling each other knowing his little sister could not see us. If any parents had walked in they would not have been able to make out anything since we were at the very back of the high bed, had covers piled in front. Malcolm got me coming in my shorts. I thought that if things did not work out later at least one of us was happy. But things did work out, sort of. I woke up in the dead of night. The place was completely quiet. In bare feet and not making a sound I went across the room, climbed the ladder to Malcolm's bunk and slipped beside him. A little friendly handling inside his briefs got him interested. "Let's fuck," he whispered. He slipped off his pajama bottoms and white shorts. I moistened up and in no time was inside him pumping in smooth strokes so as not to generate any vibration that might disturb his little sister below us. I was thinking of withdrawing to allow Malcolm his trade when out of no where is the booming voice of his dad: "Yes... Yes... OK..." Malcolm frantically whispered to me, "Get up. Get up!!" Which is exactly what I did. In a flash I pulled out of him, got my stiff dick inside my pajamas and clambered off the ladder to reach about half way across the room, where I ran into Malcolm's dad entering from the other half of the cabin. He assumed I'd gotten up because of the noise. My pajama top covered my erection straining in my briefs. "Your dad's outside. You and Malcolm get dressed. It's time to go fishing," he reported. I'd forgotten that plan completely. My dad must have gone around outside to the bedroom window to wake up Malcolm's parents. That's why I didn't hear him, just my uncle answering back. I nodded to him dumbly, had lost my voice in the fright. That was our closest call. Sure messed up our sex session that was going real sweet. Oh well, we'd get more opportunities. xxx Our families went to a local wilderness area which had a shallow broad river. It was in the summer and we had bathing suits for a wet romp. Malcolm and I got permission to go up river to "explore" while everyone else settled into a picnic area. This gave me an opportunity with Malcolm. We walked an indeterminate distance from the camp area to what could be reasonably considered secluded. I looked for a side channel with a deeper cut so we could get into water, otherwise the whole river basin was about ankle deep. I found one and steered Malcolm over to it, got him to sit down with me, side by side with the water no deeper than a foot but that was all I needed. I put a hand into his trunks. He objected. Damn. "Well, how about me," I offered as I slipped my erection out through an overlapping flap in the front of my swimming briefs. It stuck out easily seen under a few inches of water. He reached for it, took it into a masturbation grip, began jacking. We both watched the image of it rippling under the shinning surface of the channel. I looked formidable, a solid column, very white, gracefully bending to the left topped with a knobby head, half covered even on the down stroke. Malcolm kept up the rhythmic jacking. In a short time he was rewarded with the sight of my penis ejecting several ropy white spurts in staccato order into the water. He laughed a little, maybe surprised I was so predictable. "Like the way it fired," he said in an exclamation reminiscent of his earlier days with me as an outspoken playmate. I did too. I had shown him how excited he made me. It felt great. Before I could get everything put back, we heard voices and clumping of boots in the brush on the other bank. A group of three hikers came into view. Malcolm got up abruptly. I quickly rearranged myself then stood up assuming the bulge would wilt fast enough. It did. The hikers ignored us, moved off at an angle. Nothing like being lucky when you are having outdoor sex. xxx Later that afternoon, Malcolm and I were hanging out in my bedroom, had traded feels of each other, standing together behind the closed door. I suggested, "Ah why don't I jack you off now so you won't make a mess tonight?" He was torn. Indecision all over his features. "We can slip into the bathroom, lock the door and get you jizzing in no time," I continued. The image grew on him. I took my hand out of his pants. We walked nonchalantly one behind the other down the hall to the bathroom. I saw Malcolm's dad give me a fishy look as we past one room. Once in the bathroom Malcolm took out his lengthening trouser snake, allowing it to droop from his fly as he saw himself in a mirror, began to laugh at the image which he increased into a caricature by pushing out his hips and slouching his shoulders. He was mocking his penis, its languid sprawl, its loose overhang of skin. I was getting a little bemused when there was loud knocking on the door. In the blink of an eye Malcolm was zipped up back in his pants and I'd opened the door. His dad glared at us. "We're just coming out," we sort of mumbled together. More glaring. We walked out trying not to look too sheepish. I guess we can't win them all, I thought. xxx We were back at Malcolm's home, back sleeping on the floor in the living room. Our briefs pulled down to our thighs still early on. It was sort of a decompression period, a transition from our largely ignoring each other during the day. I had just one hand on Malcolm, alternating jacking him and rubbing his balls. For a variation I lightly took a small fold of skin on his ball bag and pinched it between thumb and finger. I did this several times, each being just a tiny rolling pinch across the surface. He immediately did the same to me. Wow. It was not painful. It brought a mild stinging sensation over the whole of sack, getting it wrinkled just offering more tiny ridges to pinch. It was purely erotic. We kept doing it to each other for endless minutes before falling back to our regular masturbation activity where we traded off. xxx I was in my graduating year of high school. Our grandmother was on her final decline, hospitalization, surgery then all the rest, forcing our two families to be together for a block of weeks. Malcolm and I still slept on the pad on the floor. We had access to each other as if a married couple. On occasion I would not reach over for him (he never initiated anything, my eagerness precluded that early on) and he would not care. Other nights it was obvious he was interested. He waited for my touch so he could get his sexual program started. We got more confident knowing that at night, and especially for this period when everyone was emotionally knocked flat, no one ever got up for anything or showed interest in what we might be doing together in the dark. This night Malcolm was not engaging with me. We had done a little preliminary fondling of each other but it was very late and we were not going to set any records for excitement. The living room was filled with moonlight from floor to ceiling windows off to our right. It was bight enough that we could see each other's expressions. I got up silently and moved around to the edge of the pad next to Malcolm. I sat Indian-fashion on the carpet, taking back the covers from my cousin as he lay flat to the bed, legs separated but not raised. Malcolm was 16 or 17 years old now, like me topping out at 6 feet. But those 6 feet were lean muscle. Likely he had a 28 inch waist. He lay a tall shadow against the white bottom sheet. I settled into position, moved in close, hunched over his genitals. Malcolm's penis was as large and dark as an over-ripe banana. And while I don't suffer banana envy, I can say it was a whopper compared to mine and I'm just shy of 6 inches. So he was 8 to 9 and proportionally thick. Not sure why I was sitting up, without any plan, I began a simple jacking of his adult-sized member. I kept his glans capped not particularly wanting to make anything happen. Just did smooth strokes, lightly milking the long shaft to its snake-like head. Every now and then my left hand insinuated itself at his groin, working some fingers around his bulging scrotum, each testicle more like a hen's egg. They were an easy mark to roll and molest in all their vulnerability until they tightened up, seated flush to the broad base of his erection. The moon seemed like a spotlight through the windows. I saw Malcolm head to foot. His eyes shut lightly, letting the sexual energy from my hands pour into him though his agitated penis, which I held perpendicular to his seemingly lifeless body. Without any warning, in the clear moonlight, I saw a fountain of hot semen pulsing from Malcolm's erection. It gushed straight up, a liquid strand of pearls, then falling, falling back on itself, falling within the foreskin, pooling, filling the loose sleeve, then dribbling down in an overflow, down my slippery fingers, down the slippery shaft to puddle, glistening in his pubic thatch, glistening in the moonlight. His penis deflated, collapsed to where it was completely inside my four fingers that cradled it as if it were wounded. I kept my position, the semen losing its almond-milk opacity to shimmer crystalline, now chilling my hand. I was enraptured. The clip of his coming played in my mind's eye over and over in rapid succession. I was stricken by his perfection, the image sparse in details, rendered to its most essential power--all absorbed in me. Soundlessly, so as not to disturb Malcolm, I rose up, let the penis slump to his belly and got into my side of the bed. I covered up, finding a comfortable sleeping position. I did not have to masturbate. I'd already gotten an emotional one watching Malcolm. As far as I know Malcolm lay there, semen drying on him, uncovered, the rest of the night. He had not changed position since the time I sat down next to him until I dropped slowly off to sleep. xxx Still during the time Malcolm and I bedded down together nightly by the week. We had slipped under the covers together, saying nothing, lay on our backs looking into space. The lights went out slowly, lots more activity around the place than usual getting his sister and my brother to bed in different rooms than talk in the parents' rooms. I was not enthusiastic about my chances for sex with Malcolm. Not that he'd brush me off but that his response would be minimal, meaning I'd do him and maybe he'd do me, maybe, and that being a quick jack off. I put a hand on his pajama bottoms. His penis was soft. What to do? I couldn't very well say "Excuse me." I kept the hand there feeling him respond, slipped the hand under the elastic band to cradle the expanding penis, the heavy scrotum. When he seemed fully erect I took out my hand, thinking I might next have to tug at the shorts to get him to haul them down. I didn't have to. He immediately slipped them down himself. It was unprecedented under current circumstances. Equally unexpected was his reaching over to handle me. Until the night previous I had to drag indolent hand to my neglected genitals to subtly convey my request. Now he was handling me, getting my dick into a lather, as if he wanted to. I returned the favor, getting him bursting stiff. Minutes passed in a blur of sensations before Malcolm turned to me and whispered, "Can we fuck?" in the way of an afterthought. Before I could answer yes, he added, "I'll get grease [Vaseline]." That would be a novelty. We'd brutalized each other often enough with trying to get in with just spit. I'd even scraped a thumbnail patch of skin right off the top of my glans on one of our dry fuck fests. He raised up, slipping his pajama bottoms into place. I reached up and got his erection out of the snap fly front, giving it a good jacking to keep him ready. Malcolm separated his knees, bracing himself over me giving me additional time to receive a thorough masturbating. I was able to look up at him, into his face, see the response taking over in him from what I was doing to his bulging penis. On his part, he locked eyes with me. We drank in each other. A wonderful suspension of time. He would have stayed in position indefinitely I decided. I released him. He went to the bathroom, returned in a minute to climb into bed which he did-- backside toward me. I was doubly amazed. First, it seemed to me that my dicking Malcolm's behind was something he received little benefit from, that is beyond the opportunity to dick mine in return. To me, laying in bed next to him, presenting his delicious ass to me seemed to indicate he wanted the pleasure of my erection buried in him right to the short hairs. I was flattered. The second shock to my system was knowing that while in the bathroom for his brief visit Malcolm had not just dabbed Vaseline on his peeled-back penis, but he'd taken a gob of the sticky stuff to smear over his bared anus, even -- my brain overheating at his point -- into his rectum. (What I would not have given to do that service for him.) I wasn't going to wait for an engraved invitation. I moved right up against his body, finding his pajama bottoms lowered demurely to his knees. As he felt the blunt head of my erection searching along the charming crease of his cheeks, he brought a hand back to guide my errant visitor to its haven. What a delight to feel the head of my penis slip effortlessly into Malcolm's smooth rectum. I did the rest in stages made more enjoyable for the heightened sense that Malcolm was getting pleasure from me. Once I was fully inside him, pressed tight to his behind, I reached over to his flat stomach and held him close to me, let him know we were as joined as possible. I allowed that arm holding him to me to slip lower, make contact with his erection. I gave him a comforting masturbation. We had added this activity while fucking for some time now. It kept the receiver a little more distracted during the insertion period. Maybe it helped pass the time during an otherwise long wait to reverse the roles. I kept my hand low on the shaft to avoid his pre-lubed head. Between the plunging I was doing on one side and the jacking of his stiff dick on the other he was soon reaching up to stop my hand on him. I'd release him for a while to cool down then take him up again. Soon he'd stop me. I decided we could switch early on, so withdrew. We promptly both rolled over so he could get into me. The entry was pure pleasure. He stopped along the way of his lunge letting me catch my breath. By this age he was big, porno-star big. Receiving it all in one gulp was impossible. Once inside he kept his dick buried deep, giving me the sense of how large he was at the base stretching me open as if I might be cleaved in two. He did not stop with just fucking me royally he added the benefit of reaching over to handle me, jacking what had just been up his ass. He kept the foreskin peeled back tight to the base making the glans strain with each downward jack. And to increase the sensation he twisted the skin on the shaft. The combination was a real killer. I reached up to him to ease back on the rougher maneuvers. He did but still was more aggressive than I'd experienced. I fell into a stupor, let him pump me with whatever variations he wanted, let him handle my dick until it was super-sensitive. When I got close to coming I'd bring up my hand and he'd stop jacking me. This happened a few times, the intervals getting closer together for me to ask him to ease off. At some point he decided it was my time to come. He ignored my hand. He kept masturbating away, fucking away until he felt not just the throbs of my erection spewing over the sheets but the contractions on his hard dick buried inside me. It was a thrilling ride for me as I'm sure it was for him. I'd never come when being fucked. There was a sort of end-of-the-world thing with it. For all I know Malcolm came in me. I was in no condition to notice. When he eased out he knew I was gone for the night. xxx Our last time. I'd graduated from college, was going on job interviews, one of which was in the same city as Malcolm and his family. It turned out that I would need a second interview the next day, could I return early? I could. Not even with a toothbrush I showed up at Malcolm's home and asked to spend the night. I was welcome. Malcolm was not home from work yet and in fact did not even make it for supper, arriving while I was getting ready for bed, which also happened to be his. He was a little surprised, but not displeased to see me after a gap of many months. And now we would be climbing into bed (a full size one, no twin for him as a wage earner) with each other. I have no idea what he had been doing for sex at the time. I was racking up experience on my part. I had sucked another student off, relished the semen in my mouth before allowing it to trickle down my throat. More to the point I had a regular partner, an established writer, and was getting sex nightly if not more frequently. So I crawled into bed, settling against the back wall with more perspective than I'd exhibited to Malcolm before. I won't claim it was maturity, but it was close. The bedroom door was shut as Malcolm took off his street clothes to climb into bed wearing, like me, only briefs and tee shirt. Before he turned off the bedside lamp we had eye contact. I knew what that was: we'd do "it" tonight. We lay side by side, in the first moments of the darkness. Our hands crossed finding white briefs still in place. We slipped our own down, then off. The hands crossed again this time meeting the pliant flesh of each others genitals. We began the sexual overture on our partner's instrument. We both got rampant erections. His hadn't shrunk due to neglect. It hadn't shrunk period. "Can we fuck?" he asked, as if we had done it recently. His voice was quiet. He seemed to have not thought whispering was required under these circumstances. "Sure." He turned his backside toward me, pulled up his knees. After a couple attempts, we agreed I could not make it in. I rolled over let him try on me. No luck. We settled back, laying side by side handling each other hands crossed, just as we had done countless times before, all the way back to when we were little boys. It was getting late. Both of us had to be out early tomorrow. Malcolm, in a charming gesture, folded back the covers from us, getting us exposed from the thighs up. City light from the high windows filtered in through sheer curtains enough for us to have a gentle view of each other's adult nakedness. His erection was dark, a hawser line of flesh, something that could accommodate two hands on its thick shaft leaving the head to bulge out another two plus inches. There was something fulfilling in the sight to me. It was great he'd gotten such validation of his masculinity. I offered much less to grasp, but it made up for it in eagerness. Malcolm settled in on his side, got two hands on my sensitive parts. His touch was everything it had always been. Growing up had not changed that. He was rewarded with my copious spurts within a few easy minutes of handling. It felt great. I was complete. Almost. I turned on my side to him as he lay flat, the sheet and blanket folded in a crisp line at his thighs, leaving his genitals bare, as if offered to me. I handled them, warming to the task. He got very hard but could not approach orgasm. "Let me," he said, as he replaced my hand with his. He jacked himself in a crushing grip, his hand working the skin up and back at a brisk rate, so vigorous his scrotum bobbed and jiggled wildly. I put my hand up to support him there, adding intermittent pressure to make them seat solid. He continued to flail himself. I could see he'd tucked his chin into his chest, got his back rigid in the exertion. "Here," he said quickly. Not missing the beat, I slipped my hand over his and replaced it as he withdrew. Between coddling those tight nuts and jacking his dick, getting the foreskin to snap back from the bulbous head, he began squirting his product. Thick white plugs settled on my hands. I kept up the milking motion, coaxing ever-smaller dribbles from the gasping mouth until he was dry. Regretfully I released him, saw the penis loll over on his stomach like it had died. We found and slipped up our briefs, letting the semen soak into them to feel cold on us. We brought up the covers, turned our backs to each other, fell off to sleep. It was the last time we were to sleep together, last time we were to have sex. xxx Our lives divided totally. Over the years we would see each other at family gatherings, often funerals, but always in the swarm of others. We were no one special to each other now. He experienced two life partners, but both women had problems, passed on unexpectedly, too young. I had a full life as well, though with my own gender. And now we both live the same, alone, apparently comfortable in that solitude. We don't talk. What could we say? Comments? Questions? What to share your experience? Write me at stardog105@hotmail.com _________________________________________________________________ Add photos to your e-mail with MSN 8. Get 2 months FREE*. http://join.msn.com/?page=features/featuredemail -- Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated. +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: | | FAQ: Moderator: | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d, look for subject {ASSD}| |Archive at Hosted by | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+