Growing up, I always knew I was gay. It started in preschool with hugging the same boy in class every day. By middle school, I was well aware of how to find porn on the family computer and still clear the browsing history. As an 18-year-old in high school, I couldn't wait to get to college and finally start exploring.
Of all these defining moments, one sticks out the most. Not just for how it set my heart racing or the fire it set in my crotch, but for the taboo of wanting something, someone, that I couldn't have. The object of my adolescent lust and fantasies, is an 18-year-old jock, my cousin Benny. Well, Ben, now that we're older.
Over the years, we were fairly opposite even though just a year apart. I was short and chubby, sporting braces and a bowl cut. Benny was always a head taller than me, lithe and muscular. To my brown hair and bespectacled green eyes, he was a blue-eyed blondie.
By high school, he was a three-sport athlete, popular and charming. I'd grown out of my baby fat at least, lost the braces, and the haircut, but still so different. I spent my time focused on my studies, reading fantasy series, and playing video games. We only saw each other maybe twice a year, but that was all I needed to stir up some daydream about how we used to wrestle. Only, in my dream, we did so much more.
As adolescents and teens, we did wrestle quite a bit, and usually not by my choice. Every time my family went to visit, the adults would kick us out of their space. We'd head down into the basement, sitting cross-legged in front of the big screen playing N64. If I started winning too much, he would get frustrated and tackle me. He could pin me easily and I had to control my young hormones from not enjoying the sensations of his weight pressed against my body. We outgrew wrestling by high school. We were polite and cordial, but I never really knew what to say to him.
We were in the same grade and graduated the same year. Ben chose to stay close to home in Massachusetts, attending a small school. In the theme of opposites, I left sleepy New England and headed south to Virginia, with a campus of over 30,000 students. During my four years there I came out of my shell, and out of the closet. Luckily everyone in my family, cousins included, was accepting and welcoming.
This brief biography drifted through my mind as I sat on the couch in my aunt and uncle's living room. Now I'm 22, fresh out of college, and this was my first time seeing them. My mom chit-chatted with her sister, Steph, in the kitchen, and my dad and uncle watched some home improvement show. I passed the time looking at all the pictures of Ben on the walls, reminiscing of years gone by.
The mudroom door banged open, drawing my attention, and in walked Ben. He flashed a smile at everyone, his blue eyes twinkling. It was summer, and he sported a tank top and loose-fitting running shorts. I hadn't seen him in four years, but damn he still looked good.
"Hey everyone! So glad to see you all again," he exclaimed, hugging his mom who'd run over, and waving to his dad.
His muscle tone had developed into something more solid and cut. I could see the outline of his pecs through his top, as well as his perky nipples. A flexed bicep relaxed when he set his cooler on the tiled floor. My eyes followed and took in his toned calves. He stepped out of his flip-flops, letting his big feet go barefoot. I admired his slender toes, neatly manicured. Traveling back up his legs, pausing at his prominent bulge, until our eyes met. Ben smirked, winking at me. Twenty-three certainly looked good on him, and the four years apart had made me even more attracted to him.
The door burst open again, admitting Ben's brother Seth, 8 years his senior. He had an infant in one arm, and a bag slung over the opposite shoulder. He was quickly followed by his very pregnant wife. At their arrival, Ben was pushed out of the way by the older adults who swarmed the baby.
Ben sauntered over to me, still sitting on the couch. He stopped about a foot in front of me, his crotch right at eye level.
"Rob! How's it going man?" he asked, extending his arm for a handshake. I reciprocated, his big hand taking mine in a firm grip.
"Hey, Benny," I said warmly while standing up, "Looks like you got even taller!"
"Yeahhh, I hit 6'2" about sophomore year," he said, stretching his arms wide and upwards, exposing his trim stomach, a happy trail leading to the waistband of his shorts.
"What're you, 5'7"? 5'8"?" he asked, ruffling my hair.
"5'9" actually, on a good day," I replied.
I sat back on the couch and tried to discreetly admire his body. He wasn't overly big, but each muscle was well defined. He's mostly tan, except for his pale thighs when his shorts ride up. I had to stop myself from licking my lips, imagining my hands running up his thick quads. At 22, I had some experience, but I sure knew how to please a man like this.
"Well it looks like Seth and Lindsay are getting all the attention," he said, turning to look at the still crowded entryway, "Wanna drink some beers downstairs? The weather is shit outside anyway."
He was right. Late May here in Massachusetts can still be a rainy month. Gray storm clouds covered the sky. A light tip-tap of rain on the windows competed with distant rumbles of thunder.
"Yeah, I'm game for that," I said, standing back up, "I'm not one for babies anyway."
