I Should Come Home Early More Often

I was home from work early one day and my cousin was just getting back from baseball practice, and he was surprised to see me when he got in.

"Oh, hey! You came early," he said

"Dressed like that, who could blame me?" I asked.

"Shut up. I'm gonna take a shower. Will you order a pizza?" He replied.

"Sure," I agreed.

He was in his baseball uniform, and he was wearing his school backpack and carrying his baseball duffel bag with his baseball cleats hanging off the side. I could hear him getting undressed in his room -- he almost never closed his door. I could hear him dropping all his things on the floor, typical teenager; I knew he'd pick them up later.

Then I had a sudden burst of inspiration. I heard the shower turn on and I went into his bedroom and quickly gathered up his sweaty, dirty baseball uniform and got completely naked. Most of the clothes I was wearing was probably his anyway -- we shared everything. I threw everything in the corner.

I put on his jockstrap, which was still damp. Fucking gross, but whatever. Then I put on his socks, which were also damp and gave me a moment of pause put I pushed through it convincing myself this was going to work. I put on his undershirt, pants, cleats, and cap. Not a moment later, I heard the shower turn off and he came out of his bathroom with just a towel around his waist.

He was surprised to see me in his room. In his gross, sweaty uniform that he had just peeled off his rippling 18-year-old body not ten minutes before.

"What the hell? What are you doing in here? Why are you wearing my sweaty, dirty uniform?" he asked.

"Show me what they do to you," I said, ignoring his questions.

"What?" he asked.

"The guys on your team. Don't act dumb or I'll take all this shit off and you can order your own pizza," I replied coolly.

He paused a moment and looked me up and down and then looked at his jersey on the floor near his feet and said, "Put the jersey on."

"Oh, you want the complete look. Okay, I get it," I said as I walked over to where the jersey was.

As I bent down to pick it up, he dropped his towel and said, "Open your mouth, bitch."

I couldn't help but laugh a little and said, "That's it?" as I continued to bend down to pick up the jersey, he slapped my face. Hard. I was legitimately shocked. I wasn't expecting to get slapped, especially not that hard. My mouth opened in surprise, and he seized his moment.

He shoved his cock in my mouth and immediately began thrusting. This was a side of him I had never seen. I struggled to put the jersey on, but I wasn't able to button it up. I put my hands on his waist and hips to try to get him to slow down. He hit my hands away, pinched my nose, and grabbed the back of my head to force his cock deeper down my throat.

He pulled out long enough for me to gasp for air and then put it right back in and continued thrusting. Before long, my mouth and chin along with his shirt and jersey were getting covered in spit, snot, and precum.

He picked me up by his belt and waistband of his baseball uniform pants and threw me on the edge of his bed, pulling the pants down just around mid-thigh, leaving the jockstrap on, framing my ass. He grabbed the waistband of the jockstrap with one hand, spread my ass with the other hand and rammed his cock inside me. I was quickly overcome by the dull pain of his 8" cock and 5" girth filling me. The thrusting goes on for what feels like hours but was probably only five minutes.

I try to climb up onto the bed and he pinned my arms behind my back, grabbed my hair, and nailed me to the mattress with his dick even harder -- going as fast and deep as he can. He lets loose all his pent-up frustration and semen deep inside my ass.

As he's slowing down, continuing to give me every single one of those eight inches throbbing and pulsing semen still, he bends down and lays on top of me as he continues to thrust, and whispers into my ear, "Welcome to the team."

I was literally expelling semen every time I went to the bathroom for the next three days after that.

After that, his attitude was a little less shitty and he communicated more with me. I could barely take all of him, but we worked things out and he went slow -- and used lube. He usually bottomed, but sometimes he "needed" to top and he worked out ways to send signals. My favorite way to signal to him that I was willing to bottom was to just wear one of his jockstraps to remind him of the first time I bottomed for him -- and the first time I bottomed for anyone, really. He took my anal virginity. My absolute favorite thing to do would be to wear one of his jockstraps when we were going out for the day, and I knew we were going to be out all day and show him a peak of the waistband of the jockstrap at the beginning of the day knowing he'd be thinking about it all day and making him wait until we got home. He had so much anticipation built up that he finished in just a few minutes, and it wasn't so bad. He wasn't ever really that rough with me after the first time and he eventually even got a little tender with me. His way to ask me to bottom would be to hang a jockstrap on my bedroom doorknob or swap out my clothes while I was in the shower. If I set out boxer briefs before I got in the shower and then came out and saw a jockstrap, I knew what he wanted and I was usually more than happy to give it to him.