When I was a kid, I sometimes used to go stay with my Aunt & Uncle who also had a boy about my age, just slightly older. My cousin Michael had a single bed, so we used to ‘top-and-tail’, which we both thought great fun. Most nights, after lights-out, one of us would start tickling the other’s toes, which would lead to reprisals and joint fits of the giggles. Some nights, it would end up in a foot-fight, with one of us landing on the floor, along with the bedclothes, followed by a strict telling-off from my Aunt.

Even back then, I was fond of Michael but I never saw enough of him. But as I grew older, these visits kind of died out for some reason and it wasn’t until I was 18 that Michael came to stay with us for the first time. I too had a single bed and, remembering those times when we were kids, I was rather looking forward to Michael’s visit – although this time, I had another agenda entirely.

Having navigated with great difficulty my years of puberty long before the arrival of the ‘Internet’ and the wealth of information and naked pictures of young men that we have instantly at our disposal today, I was all too aware of my fascination with other guys, especially their willies and dangly bits, which I had often spied in the showers at college but at the time, I never identified as being ‘gay’; to me that was something quite different. Yes, I was sexually naïve, unbelievably innocent and painfully shy.

I masturbated of course; quite a lot actually, often in the shower, where I had discovered that just the action of the running water hitting my cock was more than enough to get me highly aroused and fully erect. I also learned that if I stood there long enough in the shower, concentrating, with the water playing on my organ, my whole body would eventually go into convulsions, as a wave of overwhelming pleasure would surge through me and, even without touching it, my cock would suddenly explode its creamy white fluid in great bursts all down the shower curtain. Only then would I touch my still swollen cock, to squeeze the last drops of cum into the running water, as I would watch the strings of spunk slithering down the plughole out of sight. The evidence of these regular aquatic misdemeanours would always be washed away. I was ashamed but at the same time fascinated by thoughts of other young guys doing the same thing. Every time I saw another young guy in the street or at work, I would find myself looking at his bulge or his bottom and imagining what they got up to in the shower or in the privacy of their bedroom. A voyeur was in the making.

So I was really looking forward to Michael’s visit and in particular, I was wondering how I could sneak a look at Michael’s ‘willy’. However, my Mum said that we were far too big to share a single bed anymore and she said that Michael could sleep in the spare bedroom, which had a double bed. I felt cheated and frustrated. I didn’t dare suggest that I sleep with Michael in the double bed, for fear that my secret would be revealed. But fate would lend a helping-hand, so to speak.

He arrived in the afternoon and my Dad & I picked him up from the bus station. Michael was slightly older and a bit taller than me but similar in looks – not surprising really, being my cousin. He was slim, like me, and he had ginger hair, brown eyes and freckles. Now though, standing there in the bus station with his week-end bag in one hand, he seemed much more mature and developed than I had expected. For a start, he was wearing tightly-fitting, beige cotton jeans which bulged in a particularly distracting way around his groin, where his balls were rather obviously divided by the seam in his jeans. There was also a pronounced ridge to one side, where his cock clearly nestled snuggly across the top of his groin. Already, I was besotted.

I wasn’t sure how to greet him. I hadn’t seen him in a long while and my Dad was there too, which made me even more self-conscious. But as soon as he saw us, he stepped forward, extending his hand politely to my Dad and then, quite to my surprise, he dropped his bag and grabbed me with both arms in what I could only describe as a ‘man-hug’. I was a bit taken aback.

“Hey, Carrots!” he said, recalling his teasing name for me, which he knew I hated. Mind you, I used to call him ‘Ginger Nuts’, in retaliation, although I never actually saw them, not ginger anyway; but all that now seemed rather too suggestive and with my Dad there too, no way was I going to call him that now!

I just grinned, stupidly. He stood back and patted me on the head, comparing our heights.
“Looks to me like you’ve not been eating your greens!” he quipped.

Now I was embarrassed and I felt my cheeks flush bright red. He clearly noticed and in the back of the car on the way home, he toned-down the banter a little and I loosened-up a bit, warming to his disarming manner – as well as to his bulging groin.
After a meal with my parents, we went up to my room to listen to my hi-fi. We were not well-off as a family but out of the wages from my first job I had put together a hi-fi set-up that I was quite proud of. However, my room was quite small and full of my stuff, so we both had to slouch against the wall on my single bed, making idle chit-chat and listening to the music. Meanwhile, with those bulging jeans and the heat radiating from Michael’s body so close, I couldn’t help thinking about the ‘old days’ and sharing a bed with him.

It was summer and quite warm in my small bedroom, even with the window open, and after a while, Michael said,

“Why don’t we go to my room? It’ll be cooler on the back of the house and we can play cards on the bed. I’ve got a pack in my bag.”

Well I didn’t need a second invitation but as I eagerly jumped off the bed, he added, “I need to use the bathroom.”

An image came into my head of Michael, peeling those tight beige jeans open, revealing his underwear and releasing whatever was making that bulge in his groin, then peeing in the toilet.

Then, looking at his watch, he continued, “It’s gone half-nine; I’m gonna put my jim-jams on. Why don’t you do the same?
”
“Ok,” I said, rather too keenly, “See you in, what, 10 minutes?”

That image in my head now became blurred and confused, as Michael went off to the spare bedroom and I took off my own jeans, T-shirt and underpants. Michael’s suggestion that we change into our pyjamas could be taken quite innocently; on the other hand, now that fate had taken a turn in my favour, my mind was racing. I hastily put on my pyjama bottoms and listened for him to finish in the bathroom.

I met him on the landing, where he was wiping his mouth with his towel, having just brushed his teeth. He was barefoot and also wearing only his pyjama bottoms. With his bare chest and arms now in full view before me, once again I was embarrassed and self-conscious. His muscles were more defined than mine and whereas I was hairless and freckle-free, his upper chest and arms still had the freckles I remembered from when we were kids. But he was more tanned than me; he had clearly been spending a lot of time outdoors, unlike me. He also now had a few pale hairs across his chest; and down his smooth tummy, towards the loosely-knotted waistband of his pyjamas.

I tried not to look too intently as we passed on the landing but I was sure I noticed the tell-tale sign of his young manhood moving about provocatively in his pyjama bottoms, as he walked towards me. A hot flush ran up and down my back and I felt a bit like a nerd with a crush on his hero – which was, of course, exactly what I was!

Later, as we sat on the bed facing each other, bare chested and cross-legged, playing ‘Rummy’, my attention began wandering from the cards in my hand to what lay inside that tantalising opening in Michael’s pyjamas. Just like mine, they were the old-fashioned kind with an open fly and a soft cord to tie the waist.

As he sat there cross-legged in front of me, I couldn’t see much except the occasional hint of darkness but as he leaned forward to discard a card and take one from the deck, I noticed the gap widen and there was a momentary sight of pink flesh. My heart leapt into my throat and I nearly dropped my cards. I adjusted my position on the bed, pretending that I was uncomfortable but in fact, I was just getting a better view. I also moved the deck of cards slightly, pretending I was just tidying them up.

Just as I hoped, the next few times Michael leaned forward, his flies opened a bit more and I could see inside, his uncut ‘willy’, soft and floppy, with a generous foreskin, set against a wonderful nest of dark ginger hair and wrinkly testicles. I desperately wanted to touch them. After the third time this happened, my gaze must have lingered a bit too long because he noticed me looking and although he didn’t say anything, he self-consciously adjusted his flies. Shortly after that, my Mum came upstairs.

“We’re turning-in,” she said, “I’ve locked-up and turned out the lights downstairs. Isn’t it time you two went to bed?”

I don’t think she realised quite what she was saying. We both looked at one another, just like we always used to as kids, and burst out laughing. Perhaps emboldened by the humour of that moment, on impulse I blurted out,
“I may as well sleep in here with Michael,” adding, “You don’t mind, do you,” as I looked at Michael. He just shrugged and shook his head.

“Besides,” I said, looking at my Mum, “we always used to share when I stayed with them.”

“Well, yes, but that was when you were little.” She paused and then, to my surprise, she added, “But I suppose, if Michael doesn’t mind….”

I was already shocked at the boldness of what I had just said but I was also surprised and pleased at the outcome. I also realised that I had better not make it too obvious that it was such a ‘big deal’, so I tried not to seem too pleased.
We carried on playing cards for a while but my heart wasn’t in it. I was too pre-occupied. Eventually, we both got under the covers and settled down for the night, telling each other jokes, as we lay in the dark. All the while, that view of Michael’s ‘willy’ was in my mind and I didn’t get much sleep that first night. I was too busy hatching my plan.

The next night, I made sure we played cards in Michael’s room again and I tried to engineer a repeat performance of ‘the opening of the flies’. But it didn’t work. I began to wonder if Michael was on to me. Somehow, though, it seemed to be taken for granted that I was sharing with Michael and as part of my unfolding plan, when he went off to the bathroom, I ran back to my room to get my pen-torch, which I then proceeded to hide under my pillow in Michael’s room.

Later, as we lay side by side talking, Michael suddenly changed the subject and asked,

“Have you got any porn?”

I wasn’t yet ready to reveal myself by letting him see anything with too many men in it but after a moment’s quick thinking, I replied,

“Er, well, I’ve got a few Penthouses and Forum magazines. Why?”

“Just curious,” he said, “What’s Forum anyway?” Evidently, I was ahead of him on that one.

“It’s mostly sex stories and stuff like that,” I said, “You know, letters and sex-advice; no pictures. Some horny stories though.”

He was obviously interested, so I went off to my room to raid my secret porn stash. Back in bed, he flicked cursorily through the magazine pictures, pausing every so often to admire something or other. I didn’t tell him that it was the men in the pictures that I found most exciting. But he did seem quite enthralled by the Forums and he began reading one story quite intently. So I took another edition and did the same.

It was quite strange, the two of us sitting side by side in bed, each reading Forum magazine porn stories. Nothing was said between us but I knew what it was doing to me, so I kept thinking about what it might be doing to him and that just made matters worse. Every time he moved, I imagined that penis growing in his pyjamas and I wondered how big it got. I imagined fondling those fascinating wrinkly testicles. At one point, he put his hand under the bedclothes and it seemed like he might be playing with himself and my heart raced, as I seriously considered suggesting that I ‘help him with that’; I desperately wanted to but even though, as kids, we had often bathed together and seen each other naked, now it was different. He was too reserved and I was too shy. Eventually, he finished reading and said he was going to sleep, so I turned out the light.

I must have fallen asleep waiting for him to go off and meanwhile wondering if he was still playing with himself but the next thing I remember was opening my eyes around 2am, hearing Michael moaning and muttering in his sleep. He was laying on his back, dreaming but I couldn’t make out what he was saying. Then, in the darkness, he rolled onto his side facing me and sighed deeply.

He was still muttering quietly but evidently still asleep, so I took my pen-torch from under my pillow, slipped down under the bedclothes and switched it on, taking care to make sure the covers were pulled tightly over me. Underneath, I discovered a new and fascinating world, like a secret underground cavern formed by the bedclothes on top and Michael’s pyjama-clad groin in front of me. And in the depths of this cavern, there was a little dark opening, as if to another, smaller cave beyond; a cave of hidden secrets.
Laying down under the covers at this angle, I only had one hand free but with the torch between my legs to illuminate the scene, I could see the cord of his pyjamas hanging loosely in front of me, tied in a neat bow around his waist. With my fingers, I tried to tease his flies apart but without success. I gazed at the cord. I looked at the knot. It was a simple knot and it didn’t look all that tight. Could I? Dare I? What would I do if he woke up and caught me? By this point, I was so charged with excitement and my heart was beating so fast that the risks didn’t come into it. I just had to do it.

I pulled very carefully and softly on one of the cords and felt it budge, the simple knot slowly coming undone. I carried on pulling, very gently, and as the knot fell apart, I paused and held my breath, because that was the point where I figured he would be most likely to wake up. But he didn’t. I could still hear him quietly murmuring in his sleep.

I let his flies fall open and what I saw was simply amazing to my naïve eyes. His cock was stiffly sticking out from his groin. Not only that but that generous foreskin I had spied earlier was now slightly pulled back and I could just see the pink tip of his penis, from which a small blob of clear ‘goo’ was oozing. Fascinated and without thinking, I touched it with my finger and his cock twitched, as the blob of fluid grew larger but still clung to the tip. I was transfixed, as the blob clung to my finger in a long clear string as I pulled it away. I put my finger to my lips and tasted it; it was slippery and salty and seductive. I wanted more.

I lightly closed my thumb and fingers around the tip of his penis and it seemed to come to life; it jumped and twitched, as I felt it swell and grow stiffer between my fingers. As the pink cock-head expanded, its clinging foreskin now seemed to slide right back and I was fascinated by the swollen head this revealed. It was all quite different from my own appendage, although the fact that it was only inches from my face was giving me a perspective I had never seen before.

As I watched, frozen in the torchlight under the covers, more fluid oozed from the tiny eye at the end of his cock and it was about to dribble down onto the bed. At this point, all I wanted to do was to stop the dribble getting on the bed, so with my fingers, I smeared it around the swollen head of his young penis, which now glistened in the torchlight. But I hadn’t realised the effect this would have, as his cock now seemed to come alive; quite suddenly, it made a little jump and a stream of sticky whiteness began oozing out in a more-or-less continuous flow, through my fingers and down onto the bed.

Michael shuffled slightly in the bed, muttering in his sleep and I was alarmed that he might be waking-up. I had read about nocturnal emissions but while I had sometimes woken-up feeling a bit wet in my pyjamas, I hadn’t witnessed it before and I was both thrilled and excited.

My heart was beating fast in my throat. Meanwhile, my own organ, which had been tightly squashed between my legs as I lay scrunched-up beneath the bedclothes, was already stiff and emitting a dribble of its own because, as I moved my legs under the bedclothes, my pyjamas now felt quite damp.

But I was still under the bedclothes and I was still holding the tip of Michael’s erect penis between my thumb and two fingers. I could hear him quietly moaning but he was still dreaming – or at least, I hoped he was. As I gently teased his tool, it throbbed between my fingers, as more creamy fluid oozed and dribbled down onto the bedclothes. But then, everything seemed to happen so quickly. Without warning, I heard Michael let out a kind of groan, as his cock just leapt in my fingers and began spurting white cum onto the bedclothes. It startled me and at the same time, he jerked in the bed and I let go of his young spurting manhood, grabbed the torch to turn it off and slid quickly back up the bed.

I was shaking with a mixture of fear and excitement, my heart pounding in my chest. It had all happened in a split second but the images were seared into my memory at that moment.

Silently, uncomfortably, I lay there, desperate to gasp for air but having to hold my breath, until Michael rolled onto his stomach. His face was now buried in his pillow and I could hear him moaning softly. My fingers still had his cum all over them but all I could do was wipe them on my own pyjamas. And the inside of my thigh was damp and sticky, where I had oozed so much pre-cum inside my own pyjamas. The stuff was everywhere and Michael, meanwhile, had just rolled onto his stomach, on top of a load of his own spurting cum that had fallen on the sheets.

To be continued…….

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