Kissing Cousins

Fine. Fine. Doubt I'll get any rest till I answer this particular niggling question.

You see, this morning during an urgent round table discussion ( well via email since we're in all corners of the city ) on what constitutes incest amongst brothers, I let slip the hitherto little known fact that I once had a... thing with my cousin back when we were budding adolescents. The stuff of growing up adolescence and terribly cliched, I know - but what can I say! It really happened.

Despite the fact that it fits in so nicely with every gay novel ever written.


Umm.. wait, did he just grab my...?
Rather than unanimous disapproval with pitchforks being lit, the entire gang of gay men found themselves endlessly intrigued by the titillating event instead. Despite the fact that I protested that it was all done in innocent fun, they still insisted on a blow-by-blow so to speak.

As we all know, testosterone-fueled teenage boys always have this pressing need to dominate especially in their earlier coltish years desperately trying to prove their machismo. Comparing cojones no doubt. We still do that as civilized adults of course but it's a tad subtler with less emphasis on bloodied fists.

This surfeit of hormones certainly explains the occasional brawl I got into back in school ( not to mention the bruised knees and blackened eyes ) - and also the one I ended up in much later when I was a wee child of 15. Just a brief innocent scuffle over the remote.

Macho Mike was a year younger but even then, he was already catching up with me in height and build ( foreshadowing his future Terminator / He-Man bulk ). Already a scruffy lil runt all too ready to put up his dukes with a lil rough-housing.

But I hardly play fair. Scorpios are sneaky that way. During the friendly ruckus, my quick hands wandered and somehow ( possibly in a bid to get a better grip ) slipped into his shorts. And found something far more interesting ( and substantial! ) than a plain remote. Similar yet different in every way that matters. Healthy adolescent curiosity certainly won over my more martial instincts - while poor Mike sat stupefied not daring to breathe a word of complaint.

Who knows. It could have been his first orgasm.

Certainly my first handjob.

Of course Mike's a married man now with one kid ( and another on the way already ) so you can forget all that psychological babble about early childhood trauma inadvertently affecting his natural sexual proclivities :) Doubt he even remembers the fleeting one-evening-stand. Honestly, neither did I till the talk about blood relatives inbreeding and kissing cousins came about.