GBL 1/GBL 1.iso/gay_text/tailspin.txt

Text File | 1992-10-15 | 13.0 KB | 294 lines

Looking back, it's hard to believe that once I had only a passing
interest in my cousin Robert. Very hard to believe considering the
chain of events that have since led to an obsession.

It's not that I never noticed Robert's obvious attributes: blue
eyes, blond hair, a sly look, a fantastic physique, and the most
promising crotch. But he had always been just cousin Robert. That
is until he plowed into the ocean with his motorcycle and I had the
chance to see him in a different way.

Robert, always a devil on wheels, defied nature, the elements, and
even fate. One summer night he decided to ride his Harley-Davidson
on the beach. In a gesture of real ballsiness, he aimed his bike
right for the sea. The force of the machine colliding with the
crashing waves sent my cousin flying. He broke a leg in two places
and was hospitalized within the hour. He lay there for days: bored,
impatient, and increasingly horny. Robert was one of the horniest
people who ever lived! What a great time for me to enter the
picture.

When I saw him in the hospital he looked absolutely defeated.
His left hand was under his head, and he propped himself up a
bit when I entered the room. There were no other visitors and
a curtain concealed Robert from the patient in the next bed.

"Hey, pal!" That's his typical greeting. His right hand shot
out and I took it. He shook it hard before releasing the grip.
I also took notice of the mound where his crotch rested. The
outline of his hips and thighs was clear; and I was tempted to
touch, but held back.

"Dumb fuckin' thing to do," Robert said.

"Yes, it was," l said.

"Rode into the fuckin' ocean."

"Why?"

"For the feelin'! Had to have it."

He moved his left leg which, miraculously wasn't injured. I
could now see the full shape of his dick and the delicious
roundness of his balls. I sat on the edge of the bed and my
side touched Robert's thigh. Something electric ran through my
body, I trembled.

"What's the matter?" Robert asked.

"Nothing," I said. "Uh--where's the Harley?"

"They're fixin' it. It'll be okay. Everything's okay except my
hard-ons." I was stunned. He said it so matter-of-factly.


"What hard-ons?" I asked.

"The ones I have all day long. It kills me when those lights go
out. It gets rock hard, and here I am with nothin' to fuck."

He was rougher than I had ever imagined him to be. Strangely,
it made him more appealing than ever.

"Look at this bandage," he said as he ripped the cover off him.
His upper left leg and the area just below the knee were
bandaged. I wasn't looking at his leg; my eyes drifted toward
his groin. His dick was big, thick, and very red at the tip.
His balls looked swollen (I later discovered they were always
that size, just about a palm-full). The hospital gown was
pulled above his navel; I saw little ringlets of golden pubic
hair that practically hid his belly button. Robert had one of
the most beautiful bodies I had ever seen. I could feel the
heat coming from him, and it was burning into my body. I
pressed myself closer to him, and gently touched his leg with
my fingers. I pressed where the highest break had occurred.

"Hurt there?" I asked.

"No, that feels good. Keep rubbing."

I gently massaged his leg. I slowly moved my fingers down to
the other break just below the knee. Robert squirmed a little.

"That's my hot spot," he laughed.

"Hot spot?"

"Yeah, the hottest. Just around the knee. I love to have my
knee sucked. I can't wait to get out of here."

I playfully put my mouth over Robert's knee. I licked it, and
moved my tongue rapidly. He nearly jumped out of the bed.

"Is that what you mean?" I asked, hoping he wouldn't guess I
was serious about making it with him.

"Oh, Christ, if you only knew what that does to me," he said.
His voice cried out for more, and he had that glistening look
in his eyes; my 21-year-old cousin was practically begging for
more, and I was going to give it to him.

I drew the curtain around his bed and dimmed the light to
conceal our shadows. Robert spread his legs further apart and
raised the hospital gown above his chest. He was definitely
ready. I placed my mouth over his knee, and sucked his kneecap.
His dick hardened and the head was throbbing. He reached down
and caressed his balls. I gently removed his hand, substituted
my own and rolled his balls gently. I blew a steady stream of
air over them and watched the hairs quiver. I put the tip of my
tongue on one of the balls, Robert moaned so loudly that I
instinctively covered his mouth with my hand. He laughed softly
and promised to control himself.

Now I did what I had dreamed of doing (what I must have
secretly yearned to do for years). I took Robert's balls into
my mouth and sucked them until the little tight valleys of
flesh softened and became warm and moist. I inhaled his skin
and touched his swollen dick.

So this was the weapon, the great tool with which he had opened
so many willing victims. I licked its tip, tasted it, the
little shiny and sticky substance so sweet on my tongue. Then
I placed my mouth over the dick and took it into my throat. I
felt it touch the back of my gullet, and I allowed it to slide
in and out. Robert was doing the fucking and enjoying it
immensely! The hot juice gushed into me, and I felt my mouth
swell with his cum. It had the scent of coconut, the taste of
sweet chunks of fresh coconut. I drew the last drop out of him
and his body tightened, all wired and tense, until he collapsed
with a final moan. He didn't care who heard him. I wiped his
dick and pressed the sheet lightly to his balls. His face was
flushed, damp to the touch, and he looked drained.

He was also a little too grateful. He gave the impression that
he had just received the finest gift imaginable. I left without
saying a word, with only the sweet, fresh taste and the strong
scent of Robert as my companion.

I wondered if our session would be one of those isolated things
never to be repeated. Would Robert ever acknowledge that
anything had happened, or would he be overcome by shame and
guilt?

All my fears and wonderings were cleared up the next day.
Robert was waiting, the curtain already drawn three quarters of
the way around his bed. He was propped up with the sheet raised
to his belly. He had removed the hospital gown and his
wonderful chest heaved with anticipation; he was ready. With a
gentle tug, he took my hand and pressed it to the bulge of his
crotch. He moved my hand back and forth until I felt the
delightful hardness of his dick and the tightness of those
great balls. He threw the sheet off with a dramatic flair his
cock stood on its own strength. It reared and seemed ready to
challenge me. I accepted it grandly! Robert had timed the
appearances of the nurses with their thermometers, little paper
cups, and pills so we wouldn't be disturbed. He also eliminated
all afternoon visits from anyone in the family. He virtually
prepared the place for us.

When I returned the following day I noticed that the patient in
the bed next to Robert was gone. I was assured the man did not
die, but whatever was wrong had healed. On our third day
together Robert obviously wanted something different. He was on
his stomach (by some inventive manipulation he had managed to
get on his belly without disturbing the broken leg). With his
arms outstretched, he looked more vulnerable than ever. He
asked me to stroke his back and then his buns; I spread his
cheeks wide and stuck my finger up his ass. I felt his body
jerk, heard his moans, and saw his butt rise. I pressed my lips
to taste the sweet skin of Robert's buns, and I licked the
saltiness of those great golden-white mounds. He gasped for
more, and I inserted another finger into his hole, spreading
it, feeling it expand. I opened him as wide as possible and
gently tongued his anus, lightly licking the matted hairs.
Robert nearly fell off the bed.

Victory! I had anticipated it. It bolstered my belief that most
straights, once aroused, want the final, complete penetration;
my cousin was no exception. His buns remained high and they
moved with a will of their own. It had been a long time since
I had fucked a virgin; I was going to enjoy this. Robert's hob
was hot and tight; it seemed to grab at my dick, wrap itself
around it, pull my cock in without letting go, and hold just
tight enough so that it couldn't slip out. Robert seemed made
for fucking, built for it. His buns were all muscle.

"I want to feel it shoot in me. I never felt like this before,"
Robert screamed.

When I shot I gave him the full thrust of my dick, reaching the
deepest part of him. He gasped, moaned, then whimpered
deliciously.

I stroked his neck, kissed his ear and inhaled the wheat scent
of his golden hair He seemed relieved, and so wonderfully
rested. He had shot a load of sperm on the bed, and his belly
was coated with cum.

He loved the fuck I had just thrown him. All the time he had
spent indiscriminately fucking the world was a cover; he really
wanted the world to fuck him. Well I wasn't the world, but it
was a fuck; one to be repeated, on a daily basis. Robert and I
had the luxury of this hospital room privacy for several more
days. We enjoyed each other, and invented new games like " the
doctor's examination."

Robert had secured a thermometer--still in its little container
of alcohol. He wanted me to pretend to take his temperature.
What he really wanted was an object in his ass, something
different, something other than fingers and a dick. So we
played doctor!

I pretended he had a high temperature, and the only thing that
would bring it down was a good fuck (I applied the remedy). We
pretended the solution to nameless, ambiguous illnesses was a
long, hot suck which led to a miraculous orgasm relieving all
illness and discomfort.

For five days my cousin and I played our games in the little
room. The one thing Robert wanted to do seemed impossible. He
wanted to fuck me, but he couldn't manipulate his body. I
provided the solution. The two of us stripped, and I placed
myself between his legs. I raised my buns and sat on his red-
tipped erection. Slowly I eased down, feeling his dick part my
asscheeks. I had never felt so filled, so swollen. I rode
Robert until he exploded. I bent over him, letting the tip of
my tongue touch his. The fire and wildness of that moment
blocked out everything, even the scream of the nurse who had
suddenly entered the room and thrown back the curtain; Robert
was released from the hospital the next day.

A throng of anxious young women escorted him home, and they did
everything Robert asked. It was over, I thought. Those
wonderful afternoons in the hospital room would be only memo-
ries. Robert was home and that meant an endless procession of
cunt. I was inwardly furious, but outwardly smiling. I remember
the pain of standing in Robert's bedroom, leaning
inconspicuously against the wall, and recalling those
afternoons. Would it ever happen again? I watched the girls,
their eyes darting hungrily over my cousin's body. No, I would
never have him again.

Just when I expected to be placed in a private, quiet pocket of
my cousin's memory, he called. We got together. I asked no
questions. Robert, still hobbling, managed to get himself on
his motorcycle. He insisted that I ride with him. It had been
years, but I took a chance. I was not about to let this go.

"What do I hold onto?" I asked.

"My dick," he said. "You just hold on to that cock for dear
life!"

So I grabbed his meat and we enjoyed the warmth of an early
afternoon ride. We rode to the beach, the scene of Robert's
accident. We drove on the hard packed sand and felt the spray
of ocean.

Later that afternoon we discovered a private dune, and its
high, sharp grasses provided a blind. We stripped and spent the
day fucking, sucking and licking each other. Robert truly
craved me. Everything else had been a pose, a pretense, made
necessary by the role playing that he felt was expected. Now he
didn't care. He had felt the wonderful, sweeping pleasures of
dick up his ass and wanted more.

We rode off bare ass, holding each other and laughing. We rode
into the ocean as well, but were careful not to be reckless. We
rode as lovers, as cousins who had experienced the greatest
blood-thrill possible.

"Incest is best," he shouted at the top of his lungs, and the
beach and the breakers seemed to echo the cliche.

"Kissin' cousins," I said.

It was the greatest summer possible. We made love in the dunes,
wrapped ourselves in seaweed, licked the salt from each other's
bodies and, at least once each week, we tested our bravery by
riding into the ocean.

Nothing much has changed. Robert and I have been making it for
many years, but the memory of that summer is something special.
The sight and scent of that golden young man; his proud ass
raised, demanding that I enter it; my dick throbbing and
exploding deep into his hot body; the tongues meeting and the



saliva mixing--all remind me that Robert and I were more than
just "kissing cousins."

Fucking considerably more!