A Cousin’s Gift

[Spiritual_Camera]

Ethan had just turned 18, and with his newfound freedom came the courage to embrace his identity. He was lean, with reasonably developed muscle from playing high school baseball for years, his skin bright and youthful — a true twunk. He'd always admired his cousin, Mark, who was everything he wasn't: rugged, with a thick beard and a body covered in dark, curly hair. Mark was 30, the epitome of masculinity, working hard at construction sites, his hands calloused, his presence commanding.

The family reunion at their grandparent’s farm was where their paths crossed this time. Ethan watched Mark from across the yard, his shirt sticking to his muscled frame with sweat, his laughter deep and hearty.

After dinner, as the night fell, Ethan found himself chatting with Mark in front of their grandparents. Mark was all politeness, his voice warm, "Thanks for coming, Ethan. It's good to see you've grown up so well."

Ethan smiled, feeling a bit of warmth from his cousin's approval. "Thanks, Mark."

"Hey, can you help me with something in the barn? I need an extra pair of hands," Mark asked, his tone still polite but with an edge that Ethan couldn't quite place.

"Sure, no problem," Ethan responded, following Mark out to the old barn at the back of the property. The barn was quiet, the air thick with the scent of hay and old wood.

The facade of politeness dropped the moment they were alone. Mark's demeanor shifted, his voice turning cold and harsh. "So, you're out now, huh, fag?" he sneered.

"Yeah," Ethan replied, his voice now trembling, the earlier warmth replaced by a chill of fear.

Mark leaned closer, his hand roughly grabbing Ethan's jaw, forcing him to his knees. "You think we didn’t all know, that we weren’t always laughing at the little fag, I used to catch you staring at me, you little queer. I always knew you wanted my daddy dick. Well now I’m going to give it to you. Use that pathetic little mouth, perfect for my cock," he growled, unzipping his jeans to reveal his big, fat cock. "Open up, fag."

Ethan's lips parted, and Mark thrust his cock deep into Ethan's throat, making him gag. "That's it, choke on it, you little whore. You're nothing but a hole for real men to use."

Tears streamed down Ethan's face as he struggled, but Mark's dirty talk made his own small dick twitch in shame and arousal. "Look at you, your tiny fag dick is nothing compared to this, you were born to get fucked, you could never please anyone with that little boy clit." Mark mocked, glancing down at Ethan's erection.

After using Ethan's mouth hard, leaving that pretty face covered in spit and his precum, Mark pushed him onto the hay, flipping him onto his stomach. Mark's larger body covered Ethan's smaller frame entirely, his weight pressing down, dominating him. Before penetrating him, Mark decided to taste the prize. Spreading Ethan's cheeks, he dove in with his tongue, lapping at Ethan's tight entrance, making it twitch and pucker under his ministrations.

"Mmm, taste that fresh fag pussy. It's so fucking good, like sweet, forbidden fruit," Mark groaned, his tongue diving deeper, tasting the untouched territory. Ethan's body reacted, his boy pussy tingling, clenching around Mark's tongue, desperate for more.

With Ethan's hole now wet and twitching from his tongue, Mark positioned himself, his thick, veiny cock nudging against Ethan's entrance. "Time to break you in properly," he grunted, and with one forceful thrust, he began to rut into Ethan. Each movement stretched Ethan's pussy lips, tugging at them, the sensation both painful and pleasurable. The thick veins on Mark's cock seemed to drag along Ethan's sensitive flesh, making him feel every ridge and pulse.

"Feel that? I'm carving out a place in your guts for my cock," Mark hissed, his hips slamming into Ethan, the force of his thrusts making Ethan's body shake beneath him. The walls of Ethan's insides were being stretched, reshaped to accommodate Mark's massive member, a searing mix of pain and pleasure. Each thrust was deliberate, slow at first, allowing Ethan to feel the full length of Mark's cock, the head pushing deeper, stretching him further than he thought possible.

The friction of Mark's chest hair against Ethan's back added another layer of sensation, the coarse hair igniting nerves, making Ethan tingle all over. His own cock, small and ignored, was trapped between his body and the hay, the constant pressure and the overwhelming sensations from behind driving him to the edge.

Mark's rhythm quickened, his cock sliding in and out with a wet, squelching sound, the lubrication from his spit and Ethan's own body making the penetration smoother, yet no less intense. "Your pussy's fighting it, but it's mine now," Mark growled, his voice a mix of exertion and pleasure. "Feel how it clings to me, how it wants to keep me inside."

Ethan felt every vein, every throb, the sensation of being stretched and filled overwhelming him. His own moans were a mix of pain and ecstasy, his body betraying him as it pushed back against Mark, seeking more of that punishing rhythm.

Then, without touching himself, Ethan came, his body convulsing under Mark, his pussy clamping down hard on Mark's cock. The sudden grip was too much for Mark; with a roar of satisfaction, he came, his seed flooding into Ethan, breeding him, marking him from the inside out.

Mark pulled out slowly, leaving Ethan feeling empty but stretched. He looked down at Ethan's now gaping entrance, the pussy lips puffy and his seed just begging to drip out, a smirk of victory on his face. "Look at that, I've given you a cunt to service real men," he taunted, his fingers tracing around the abused rim. "You're not a boy anymore; you're a little pussy bitch. A hole for real men.”

He then forced Ethan to turn around, pushing his cock, still slick with their combined fluids, back into Ethan's mouth. "Clean it, fag. Thank me for breaking you in. Thank me for giving you a new cunt, that’s you’re coming out present.”

Ethan, his mind in a haze, complied, his tongue working over Mark's cock, the taste of Marks seed and his own pussy juices fresh. "Thank you, Mark," he murmured, his voice thick with submission.

With a final, dismissive look, Mark pulled up his jeans, leaving Ethan there on the hay, his body still tingling, his mind reeling from the intensity of the encounter. His brand new boy pussy gaping open, leaking his cousin’s huge load, now starting to trickle down his hairless thighs. Mark walked back to the house, leaving Ethan to gather himself, the barn now silent except for the soft rustle of hay and Ethan's ragged breathing.

 

[Spiritual_Camera]

Part 2

The night had settled over the farm, the moon casting a silver glow through the windows of the old house. Ethan lay in his bed, the sheets tangled around his legs as he tried to sleep, his body still tingling from the encounter in the barn. But sleep was elusive; his mind replayed the events, the pain, the pleasure, the dominance of Mark. He felt a conflicting mix of dread and anticipation, knowing he was now marked by his cousin in ways both physical and psychological.

As the clock ticked closer to midnight, the house was silent, save for the occasional creak of the old wood settling. Ethan was about to drift off when the door to his room creaked open, the silhouette of Mark filling the doorway, his presence almost palpable in the darkness.

"Couldn't sleep, fag?" Mark's voice was a low, menacing whisper, the kind that sent shivers down Ethan's spine. His heart raced, a combination of fear and something else, something darker.

"I... I thought you..." Ethan's words trailed off as Mark stepped into the room, closing the door behind him with a soft click. The room was dim, but Ethan could see the hunger in Mark's eyes, the same look that had been there in the barn.

"I'm still fucking horny, and I know you want more," Mark said, moving to the bed with the confidence of a predator. He grabbed Ethan by the hair, pulling him up to his knees. "Look at you, already hard for your cousin's cock again."

Ethan couldn't deny it; his body had betrayed him once more, his small erection tenting his boxers. Mark's words, cruel and true, made him feel exposed, vulnerable, yet there was an undeniable thrill.

Without waiting for a response, Mark pushed Ethan back down, this time face up, his hands roaming over Ethan's body, claiming it again. "You think you can handle another round? I'm gonna make sure you feel me for days."

He yanked down Ethan's boxers, exposing him completely. The air was cool against Ethan's skin, but Mark's touch was anything but — rough, demanding, as he spread Ethan's legs wide. "Your pussy still looks hungry for my cock," he taunted, his fingers tracing Ethan's entrance, still slightly swollen from earlier.

Mark didn't bother with foreplay this time; his desire was too urgent. He spat on his hand, using it to slick his already hard cock, then positioned himself. "Here we go again, you little bitch."

The initial thrust was harsh, Mark forcing his way in with a grunt of satisfaction. Ethan gasped, the pain sharp, but the memory of pleasure was there, mingling with the discomfort. Mark's cock felt even bigger this time, or perhaps Ethan was just more aware of every inch as it stretched him anew.

"Fuck, you're tight even after I broke you in," Mark hissed, his hips moving in a slow, deliberate rhythm, making Ethan feel every vein, every throb of his cock. "This pussy is mine, remember that."

Ethan's hands clutched at the sheets, his body arching off the bed with each thrust, his moans muffled by the pillow. Mark's chest hair rubbed against his skin, the coarse sensation adding to the overwhelming feeling of being taken, of being owned.

"You're fucking loving this, aren't you? Bet you've been thinking about it all night," Mark said, his voice thick with lust as he watched Ethan's face contort in a mix of pain and pleasure. His own pleasure was evident in his grunts, in the way his pace quickened, his thrusts becoming more forceful, each one slamming into Ethan, pushing him further into the mattress.

The room was filled with the sounds of their coupling, the wet slap of skin against skin, Mark's dirty talk painting vivid images with each word. "I'm gonna stretch this fag cunt until you beg for mercy."

Ethan was lost in a sea of sensations, his body responding despite his conflicted mind. The pleasure was undeniable, building with each punishing movement, his own cock leaking against his stomach, untouched but responding to the intensity of Mark's domination.

Mark leaned down, his breath hot against Ethan's ear, "You're gonna take my seed again, make you remember who owns this pussy." His words were like a whip, each one adding to the erotic torment.

The rhythm was relentless, Mark's body covering Ethan's, his weight pressing down, asserting control. The feeling of being utterly dominated, of being at the mercy of Mark's desires, pushed Ethan closer to the edge. His body was on fire, every nerve ending alight with the intensity of the moment.

"Please, Mark," Ethan found himself whispering, not quite sure what he was begging for — for it to stop, for it to continue, or for something else entirely.

"That's it, beg for it, you little slut," Mark growled, his pace increasing, his cock driving deep into Ethan. The bed creaked under their weight, the sound mingling with their heavy breathing.

Ethan's orgasm hit him like a wave, sudden and overwhelming, his body convulsing under Mark, his pussy clamping down, milking Mark's cock as he came hands-free, his cum painting his stomach. The sensation was too much for Mark; with a roar muffled by the night, he came, filling Ethan once again, marking him from the inside out.

As Mark pulled out, there was a moment of silence, the only sound the heavy breathing filling the room. He looked down at Ethan, his expression one of dark satisfaction. "You're gonna walk funny tomorrow, knowing you've been fucked by your cousin."

He then forced Ethan to clean his cock with his mouth, the taste of their combined fluids a stark reminder of what had transpired. "Thank me," Mark commanded.

"Thank you, Mark," Ethan murmured, his voice a mix of submission and the remnants of pleasure.

With that, Mark pulled up his jeans, his presence leaving the room as swiftly as it had entered. Ethan lay there, the aftershocks of his orgasm mingling with the pain of his newly used body. He was aware of how silent the house was, how everyone else slept while he had been claimed again, in his own bed, under his family's roof.

The night was long, and the room was now a silent witness to this second, even more intimate violation. Ethan knew he'd never look at Mark the same way again, nor perhaps at himself. The moon outside cast long shadows, the farm quiet, secrets hidden in the dark, desires unleashed in whispers, under the indifferent stars that watched over the farm, over the night's secrets.

 

[jaysontexas]

Aaaaaamizing

 

[viscountwxyz]

Someone needs to beat the hell out of Mark. I don't care if it's Ethan in six months, a friend of his, or Oscar Wilde's ghost. What he's doing ain't right.