After the Fire
Nick Lowe
One.
My cousin introduced me to jacking off about a week after I went to live with my Godparents after a horrific fire one night after a lightning struck our home. I was the only one spared serious injury with barely a few scratches from crawling out a window and landing in some bushes. and my sister ended up with some minor burns. But my parents were gone, and I was in shock and mourning like I never knew before. The house was completely destroyed and under insured so the property would be sold off for the land which was not worth much. Everything I believed now came into question, in fact I almost overnight, my belief system was destroyed.
My sister went to stay with our grandparents in the next town over and as I said I went to my aunt and uncle's house who also happened to be godparents to the both of us. We both had led a very sheltered life being brought up by my born-again parents that found Jesus in their late 20's after a somewhat indulgent lifestyle and decided their kids would be 'raised right.' Naturally, I was taught sexual urges and horrible things such as erections, were the work of the devil and needed to be suppressed, and foolishly I bought it, hook, line, and sinker. As a result, I had never even masturbated. I had simply waited for the 'problem' to abate or as my sister shared when she saw me once with a hardon in my PJs to slap it hard until it goes away and proceeded to demonstrate with vigor. Naturally, any thoughts of sex that were in me disappeared, and it worked. She was a few years older and had a boyfriend and told me that's how they handled it. My sister always seemed to have everything under control, and I admired and envied her.
Getting back to that first time, I was18 and he was 21, and he was just back home from college and looking for work as a mining engineer as an assistant to a senior engineer, but due to low demand, all of the mining businesses in the area were on the decline, so it was slow going so he would likely be around for a while. Having those few years of wisdom, higher education, and worldly secular lifestyle, I looked up to him and envied him as well as my sister Jane. I think at the time, I wanted to be anyone else but me.
The introduction was remarkably casual and came one night after about a week or so while he and I were still sharing a bed while my aunt and uncle tried to figure out longer term arrangements. I felt lucky to have what I did as no one was prepared for this turn of events, and everyone was doing the best they could under the circumstances. My cousin was welcoming and accommodating beyond my wildest expectations. I felt like I owed them all a great debt.
As we settled in for the night, he said in a low whispery voice and in his Yankee accent, something like "I guess it's a good time for a good rub."
My mind was going a mile a minute. I'm thinking like, what? a rub? What could that be? Back rub, massage maybe? I was confused at first but somehow sex or something to do with it came to mind.
He said "You can rub too if you want to. I won't tell anyone. I know they told you it was bad, but it really isn't. Its nothing to worry about -- it just feels good."
Yep, confirmed its something about sex. I could tell he was reaching in his underwear, which is how we slept in the summer with no a/c -- no PJs, just tee shirts and underwear and with the other hand he turned down the top covers with just the sheet covering his cock like a little ghost standing on his pelvis.
Then he said, "do you know about it yet?" He snickered. "...how to rub?" I nodded but he knew better.
By then I was on my elbows trying to look right through the sheets to see what he was up to when he pulled the sheet down to reveal his cock which was notable in size compared to mine standing straight up. Even in the dim light I could see it was quite different looking. I knew he was not circumcised like me from peeing together and baths and showers when we were kids, but now the foreskin was pealed back, and head was fully exposed and tight like a balloon. Comically I had a fleeting thought, 'You know my sister could smack that down for you.' But no, I didn't say a word, I laid there wide eyed in awe not sure what to make of all this and he told me to pull my under pants down and watch while he stroked his cock with the thumb on the top side of the shaft and the three fingers following the urethra or what we called the 'vein.' And then he told me to do it, so I nervously mimicked what I observed waiting for lightning to strike us both dead, but nothing happened, no retribution, and we had our first rub together. This was a huge event and a real turning point for me. And OMG I loved it. It felt better than anything I had felt before and after a while I noticed it started feeling even better and better then really, really, good and then that good feeling build to an explosion. I felt down to my toes, and I spewed semen that just seemed to keep coming and coming. Then the feeling started to fade and I knew it was finished. But wow I was in a relaxed and wonderful place in my mind in the aftermath. I started rubbing it again just slowly as my erection deflated but never completely faded.
His name is Bobby by-the-way, my cousin, and after we finished, he handed me a couple tissues from the dispenser on his nightstand and took them from me after I cleaned up my semen and tossed his and mine in the waste basket. Then told me If I was done, to pull my underpants up, and looking back I guess he was kind of bossy about it, but I was lost at the time and maybe I needed a leader, so I did as he suggested, and I felt like I should follow his lead. After all so far, so good. I think I slept with a hand in my underwear most of the night if not the whole night.
That was it for the first night. The second night was a little different.
Two.
The next day was pretty much normal as if nothing happened the night before. I got up, had breakfast, we went for a walk through the neighborhood and visited a few old friends, and then he drove me to lunch in his Pontiac handed down from his father, and afterward asked me what I wanted to do. I asked him if he remembered going to the the hobby store in town when we were kids to spend our allowance or leftover birthday money where we would buy model cars, glue and cans of spray paint as well as brush-on paint and a few brushes. We talked about the time in 1965 and I was enamored with the muscle cars and went for a Corvette model while Bobby chose a Mustang. We always went for the 1/24 scale Revel brand, which we considered to be the top of the line in model cars. We also talked about a time before that when we were too young for model cars and ended up with toys like wooden building blocks mostly consisting of colored sticks and round hubs with holes to place the sticks. On the box there were suggested things to build like Ferris wheels and robots with pictures of happy kids and adults playing together in the background. Ya gotta love the marketing geniuses in the 1960s, tapping into the projected ideal 'mid-century modern' family and the American Dream, only to be followed by disappointment on the other side of the cheap cardboard façade soon after the pretty box was opened and the scam exposed. But we fell for it, time and time again never taking the lesson. The world was almost surrealistic with pastel everywhere from lady's dresses to two tone cars with chrome hub caps that barely covered just some of the ugly truth about the filthy machines powered by leaded fuel we rode in. And things have only gotten worse not better.
Bobby said, "You want to go by there? Its still there and I think they still sell model cars.
