Cousin Augie

By: TH Augie is short for Agusto,   a cousin a year older than me.  Our age gap meant he belonged with a different clique of exact contempor...

By: TH

Augie is short for Agusto,   a cousin a year older than me.  Our age gap meant he belonged with a different clique of exact contemporaries because for kids, that little difference carried a lot of weight.  However, he fell a year behind in the normal high school curriculum after three years of expensive boarding with the seminary.  Because of his parents’ high hopes for him of becoming a catholic priest, they enrolled him for religious studies early, right at the start of high school.   No matter how strong their desire for him to have an eventual career in the church,  it became obvious by the third year that he simply did not have it in him.  His plain lack of interest was openly offered as the main reason although as with a lot of things in life, it was more complicated than that. 

Sure, a lot of outlets for a boy transitioning into manhood do not exist in seminaries and certain practices are outwardly condemned as a matter of policy but a lot of things can and do go on in any fever swamp of isolated pubescent boys corralled together in boarding schools, even or specially so, of religious ones.  Boys will be boys and they can be quite creative when it comes to mending ways to let off steam. You can apply tourniquet on them and it won’t work.  At that stage, raging hormones override all else and as Augie recounted to me later, once lights went out, the sleeping quarters of those little saints gave way to a cacophony of snapping elastic waistbands, rhythmically rustling sheets and vibrating bunk beds.

So at the start of junior year,  I found myself introducing him around the high school I had attended since freshman.  He lost no time and quickly shook off the chaste demeanor  imposed by his three years of seminary discipline and plunged head on in school activities: basketball, volleyball, baseball, etc.  He even became my company commander in the school’s cockamamy military training program where we were screamed at and drilled to march around the yard with wooden rifles on our shoulders.  Pathetic and degrading for us privates but being tall, just beginning to fill out with muscle, light skinned and endowed with a perfect blend of predominantly caucasian over a foundation of chinese fine facial features, Augie cut a dashing figure in his impeccably starched and pressed khaki uniform.  Academically,  his performance turned out to be just average, he often enlisted my help for certain assignments but he more than made up for it with his enthusiasm in socials, athletics and any activity that required agility, physical fitness, presence, poise and above all, charm.  He was popular.

His mom was extraordinarily pretty and a first cousin of my dad.  Since my dad was orphaned at a very young age, he was raised under the same roof as his cousins, so they were practically brothers and sisters.  She graduated from normal college and became a teacher in our local elementary school.  The school was located at the end of town so instead of going home for lunch, the prepared lunch was taken to her in fiambreras by a contracted tricycle driver.  I remember his dad as also uncommonly handsome and with his aviator Rayban on, reminded me of Gregory Peck who played McArthur in the movie.  He worked abroad and regularly sent home parcels of treats for the family in typical Filipino fashion although not in as large as balikbayan boxes as we currently see them nowadays.  Augie was followed at a distance by two brothers who at that time were in grades four and six so they stayed in school during lunch break to eat with their mom in the school cafeteria. 

On any given lunch period, their house which was just a block away from ours would often be empty except for Augie and the middle-aged house keeper who was often out of sight doing the laundry.  She only appeared to set the table for his lunch and then vanished again to go back to whatever chore she was doing.  She was invisible, never hovered around nor bothered us with her presence.  I often came by to fetch him so we can go back together to our high school located in a neighboring town and  while waiting for him to get ready, I sat alone in their living room paging through the american magazines and picture books sent home by his dad that were impressively arrayed on the coffee table.  I was particularly fascinated by pictures of male models in swimming trunks  and white briefs in the mail-order catalogues and would routinely go back to them over and over  whenever I had the chance.

Fitness clubs and gyms would appear only in the distant future and only in larger towns and cities.  Even schools did not have proper gym facilities to speak of.  At home, we kept in shape by working in the yard, chopping fire wood, husking coconut and participating in sports.  Without sporting any eye-catching bulges, our bodies possessed strength and great muscle tone.  Although there were books laying around our house about physical culture such as the introduction to jujitsu and the Human Atlas that my dad brought home for reference, not one of my brothers and me even considered following any regimen to improve our physical appearance.  Besides being too busy with school work, it was simply assumed and taken for granted that it naturally came as a result of work and play.  Well, not with Augie.

Augie was not content with the adulation that our adoring classmates already showered on him.  He got it into his head that he was going to sculpt his body into another Adonis.   He wrote his dad to send for body building books and a few weeks later two of them arrived with the mail.  One was Charles Atlas’s Dynamic Tension and another was called Isometric Exercises.  He immediately picked a few routines from both of them and started a regimen to bulk his body up.  The ones he chose to put into practice involved the use of common household furniture.  He did push-ups, sit-ups and curl ups supporting himself on chairs or his feet pinned down by the stretcher of a heavy table.  Although I did not notice any dramatic change probably because we were together and up close almost every school day, he swore he could already see the improvement when he flexed in front of the mirror.  He was three months into this self-imposed regimen when one lunch time, he peeked down from the staircase and called me up to the upper floor of the house.  Now I asked him what he was doing and he said “working out.”

"Come on up. You can watch me flex."

I quickly shut the catalogue I was ogling, stood up, adjusted my hard dick in my pants and climbed the stairs toward their bedrooms.

When I strolled through his open door, he was leaning over between two chairs doing slow push-ups, his basketball shorts stretched tight across that globular ass.  He stood up with his face fully flushed from the exertion and flashed his masculine smile at me then stripped off his tank top. "I want you to see this." I knew how young male physique could be so beautiful, the image of Dante, Ramir and Alon’s perfect young bodies never really left my mind, but his was utterly breathtaking: his pectorals were already amazingly well defined on his perfectly smooth, hairless chest. Thickish thatches of hair appeared under his arms when he raised them. The biceps were bulgy and full for his 18 years and the thighs powerful.  His tummy was flat and was already at the verge of forming what we would call now a six-pack.  His hair was cut white all around the side - the military fashion at the time with the short mop of curly rings on top.

"Wow, you are right, it works." I said.

"Wish I could grow taller."

But I though he was already five ten, I guess he wanted to stand taller than me.  I told him what mother always lectured us with, that we should just be content and grateful for not having any physical defects. Besides, I pointed out, you have unblemished skin. Look at it, it’s perfect. He approached and stood in front of me. "Feel them," he nearly commanded me as he pushed a bulging biceps in my face. I know my cock jumped. I wanted to sniff, lick and bite at his biceps, but contained myself and just lightly pinched a chunk of it.

He abruptly asked, "Want a drink?"

"What do you have?"

"Just some brandy." Most likely pilfered from his mom’s pantry where she used it for baking. We each had  a shot. My inhibitions were fleeing.

"Are those pectorals as tight as your biceps?" I learned their names from my dad’s Human Atlas.

"My what?"

"Your chest,"

 "Oh yes, yes."

He came over and puffed his chest forward. This time I did not hesitate. Both hands went to his mounded pecs then to the firm nipples both of which I rolled between my finger tips. "Gorgeous," I breathed out in admiration.  My week of immersion with the Rubio boys that past summer was paying off. I was bolder and seemingly worldlier with respect to what we boys really want.

My hands left little of his torso untouched. My admiring touches made him hot and handsomer than ever with desire which he could barely conceal with his casual smile.  He was breathing both audibly and visibly now.

"Turn around," I twirled my index finger at him. He obeyed immediately and I ransacked his back with my maniacal hands. I got bolder and grabbed at his ass through the thin shorts. I remember muttering something about "Beautiful ass ... firm ... solid ... perfectly round ..."  Then he shout out, "Want to see it better?" He din't wait for my answer,  he just slowly tugged and teased down his satin shorts, revealing the jockstrap, which I had not noticed he was wearing, and exposed the skin - hidden from the sun, so smooth, pinkish and very, very delectably covered with fine hair. I even slid my hand down the lovely, warm, dark crack. He twitched a little, but did not move away.

He turned around and I immediately saw the typical and expected bulge in the pouch tenting the elastic jock. I brought one hand up and hefted it from underneath the bulge.

"You fill it well." He put a hand on my shoulder and said,

"Catch it, it's going to bust out soon." 

With his free hand he started to pull off the elastic contraption. I helped him. He kept his other hand on my shoulder. I was glad. It gave me the needed nudge to kneel and continue.

It was beautiful. Six inches, rapidly getting hard, perfectly formed and fairly thick. It was neatly circumcised and nestled in a fairly dense bush of curly black hair. I massaged it slowly. He began to gyrate his hips a little. Once it was upstanding and twitchy, it looked more like seven, just like mine.  I asked,

"Why, when did this come off last?"

"This morning. I need to do it morning, noon and night."

“Every day?”

“Yes and sometimes more.”

“My, you’re hornier than a dog.”

"Has anybody ever sucked you off?"

"No.  You want to show me now?"

I did not mind him presuming I knew how, I just replied by immediately taking the head and half-way down the shaft  in my mouth in one gulp, then little by little all the way to the curls that smelled of baby powder and musk. He groaned loudly.

"Holy, that's terrific. I see what they mean now.  This is addictive."

He started shaking and heaving his body and chanting,

"Oh wow!" "Oh wow!"

I stopped for a moment and looked up at him.

"You like it?"

"Yes, yes! It feels so good. My dick never gave me this much pleasure before.  Keep on just like that."

"And I've not sucked a cock since the summer," I thought to myself.  It was that wild week with Dante, Ramir and Alon again which I brought back from memory many times since, whenever I jacked off. I was not entirely "out" when   I acquired all there was to learn about sex with those three. I never let the two of them shoot in my mouth though, only my special Alon. But I have grown over that and I hunger for this load now.

Doubled over my head, he grabbed me firmly with both hands by the nape and thrusted his pelvis rapidly to push his cock in and out of my mouth.

"Are you going to swallow my load? Are you?"

he hissed out and groaned at the same time. I knew he wanted me to and I wanted it just as badly. He pulled his cock out of my mouth, to my amazement, and said,

"If you don't want to take it, just tell me now."

I answered by quickly resuming my sucking. He suddenly halted and thrusted his pelvis one last time into my mouth and then froze while  my lips felt the strong spasming of his dick.  Then his sweet, sweet cum squirted in powerful jets over and over, pouring out into my overflowing mouth.  I needed to swallow several times just so  I could catch my breath again.

He slumped down on the bed and slap the space beside him asking me to join him. He unbuttoned my shirt and noted that I had wisps of hair on my chest. Said he also wanted chest hair at that time. Training his finger tips on the trail of hair from my navel down, he unfastened my belt. He looked at me and smiled.

"You're really hard too." 

“Why of course, who would not be?”

He grabbed my upright dick and started jerking me off.  He only paused to catch with the tip of his tongue the beading pre-cum on my cock-slit just to see what it tasted like. It then formed a drooping thread as he lifted his head back.

“Yum, maybe tomorrow," he said.

Did not take too long until I was bucking up his hand and my cum was shooting up and splatting down everywhere around.  He was quick to grab a towel to catch some of it and clean up his hand.  He got hard again while he was making me come so he got up and assumed the push-up position over my face to offer it to me to suck off once more with me lying on the bed. He came just as intensely and copiously as before but I had quickly adjusted to the large quantity of his discharge so not one drop was wasted. I also got a finger up his asshole this time. He squirmed.  I sat up and he let me kiss him in the mouth with mine still full of the fresh flavor of his own sperm.  He smiled and said thanks.  I stood up, dressed and motioned with my head, “come on let’s go.”

I found it equally addictive needless to say.  I was happy that I would be able to put into practice the rest of the skills I acquired in the summer into our subsequent encounters. He proudly told me a few days later that he curbed his habit of relieving himself morning and night just to save it all for us together for lunch time.  I told him that that was sweet though inwardly did not believe him one bit at first but I did notice that he seemed to respond to my caresses with more abandon and he became more eager to reciprocate to them plus he always came even more abundantly twice every time.  This scenario became our lunch time routine for the rest of the school year. Surprisingly, nobody seemed to have noticed nor suspected anything. It stopped only in our senior year because his brother joined him regularly at home for lunch.  I did not know what he resorted to then for sexual relief, I guess back to Miss Mary Palmer.  From time to time, whenever he anticipated  he was going to be home alone, he would look at me longingly or if close by, just brush his crotch against me when nobody was looking and slip me a note  with a time written on it.  I would then join him in his bedroom at the appointed time to once more give free reign to our fantasies and satisfy both our lusty longings.

Once we moved out of our town to the city to attend university,  we lived together for a while with other cousins in an apartment provided to us by a generous uncle.  We both assumed and expected that it would be easier to arrange things between the two of us then but din’t turn out that way.  We have aged another year and his impatience and super-insistent horniness has mellowed down somewhat. Our sweet sexy sessions resumed but only sporadically since we could only grab the rare opportunity when everybody else was not around.  Just as well, the rarity and anticipation only made our trysts all that more intense.

End