My Dirty Cousin Eric - Wet and Wild

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2 of My Dirty Cousin Eric It's first morning at the farm, and young Timmy gets to reacquaint himself with all the familiar routines...including a rather grumpy dirty older cousin!


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Well, it's another late night typing, and here we go again! The old ball and chain's been telling me to not stay up all night because apparently that is going to give me an ulcer, but since she likes to fall asleep with her book, there's always plenty of opportunities for me to sneak back to the laptop and open my secret files. So, here...going back in time again, folks...1986...the summer when cousin Lynette fell in love with Tom Cruise like just about half of the rest of the US as well.

Last time, as you remember, I was abandoned onto the farm by my parents, and I had actually managed to get to sleep without being poked in the ribs by my older cousin Eric, or being told that I was a big wimp. Sure, the bed was the old, familiar tent bed I had slept on for so many years now, but I did manage to catch my sleep after releasing some physical...tension.

That said, whatever sleep I got was way too little, all in all, because what felt like six minutes later, there was a sharp knock on the door that sent my ears flying and my head up from the pillow. I was glad I didn't crack my skull on the sloped ceiling above me, but my ears swept against it, definitely.

I yawned and tried to find the source of the commotion, but the only thing I heard was receding paw steps from beyond the door...that is, until there was a loud grunt coming from my left, following by a snort and a curse.

"Fucking hell..."

My head turned into the direction of the sound, and I caught the shape of my sizeable cousin, sitting up on the bed. It was very dark but for the scant moonlight, so he really wasn't much more than a big lump of a dog in the twilight, silhouetted against the pale wall. I could tell that his ears were flat against his skull.

Another snort.

"Fucking shit...Sundays..."

There was a lot of rustling when my cousin threw the covers and then hauled himself up to his paws. The floorboards creaked under his bulky weight, he was a big boy, and tall, too, for his age of 17, and I followed the sound and the shape when he walked over to the door to hit the light switch he knew to be there.

My eyes were momentarily blinded when the bare bulb on the ceiling came on, illuminating cousin Eric's small room. My own ears flattened and I let out a surprised gasp at the sudden intensity of the light and put a paw over my eyes, too, as I grimaced. I blinked a few times and yawned again before I dared to crack my fingers a little and tried to get used to the light.

I almost gasped again. My cousin was standing very close to me now, shuffling over his chair to get his clothes from there, and he was not only there, but he was also buck-naked. Cousin Eric's dark-furred, shiny body was a foot away from me, and what was most shocking was that he was actually sporting a hint of pink, too. Cousin Eric's sheath looked swollen to me, and from the hole on the top, about an inch of his pink shaft protruded out of the fuzzy, skinny cover of his doggie cock.

My eyes probably widened a little when I noticed that he was having a half-boner, right there while I watched him pick up the pair of white boxers he'd worn for all of yesterday and then turn them around in his paws. The movement caused his heavy, filled-out sheath to swing a little from side by side, since it was so weighty with all the blood that had rushed into his groin. I could smell his musk, too, strong, mixed with piss and sweat, and the smell of his skin. It seemed so much stronger than my own.

I was definitely feeling some rush of blood, too, but onto my cheeks. Catching my cousin with a boner like that wasn't something I had planned to do, but Eric seemed to be too busy to notice me, as he leaned down to put his huge footpaws through the holes in his boxers. The very act of bending down made muscles bulge over his arms and his legs. His tail whipped about over his rump, from side to side.

My reverie was cut short by a loud snort and a snap of his teeth together as he watched me.

"Quit staring, pup," he snorted, leaning down so that he was almost at eye level with me, sitting on the bed still, "never saw a guy naked, huh? Don't they do PE at school anymore?"

He huffed a slightly tobacco-scented breath in my direction, which made me blink and my nose wrinkle. Meanwhile, cousin Eric pulled his boxers up to cover up his swollen sheath. The elastic snapped over his thighs when he was done and straightened up. Then he grabbed his jeans and swung them over so that the legs almost smacked me in the fact when he did. I ducked a bit, and then I finally did hit my head on the ceiling with a comical thud.

"Ow!" I yelped instinctively, pressing my paws over my skull, with my ears already there, flat.

Cousin Eric chuckled and leered at me all the while he worked to put on his jeans, and I rubbed the sore top of my head with paws, pressing down to prevent any swelling from happening. The throbbing pain made me grit my teeth together, and I tried my best not to let out more embarrassing sounds and make an even worse fool out of myself. I bit back my grumbles and hoped that the pain would soothe down soon.

Cousin Eric finished up with his jeans and then kicked the side of my bed. It rattled and for a moment I wondered whether it might actually collapse and fold down with me stuck on the inside. It sure made my tail jump and flap about.

"If you don't hurry I'm going to eat your pancakes too, Timmy," the big Rottie winked and then headed for the door, tail whipping about.

I yawned and moved one of my paws from my head to cover my muzzle as I did so, out of habit.

"What's the time?" I asked, trying to blink the sleep off my eyes.

Cousin Eric stopped at the door and turned to look at me over his shoulder, which made all those big muscles on his bare torso bulge and ripple.

"Dad usually wakes us at five on Sundays," he said. "Five thirty on every other fucking day."

He snuffled and rubbed his face with his paw while the other opened the door and he disappeared into to hallway. I grimaced at his statement and tried to remember whether I had been expected to wake up this early during my previous visits as well. I soon came to the grudging conclusion that it indeed was the case, and had been on every summer since I had come here after I turned 12 years old and was deemed old enough to wield the pitchfork.

I grumbled quietly to myself and pushed my paw under the bed to search for my clothes.

*

Coming downstairs, I could smell bread, bacon and pancakes, all cooking in the kitchen and emitting a scent that made me want to drool a bit more with each passing step. I held onto the banister tightly, since my footpaws felt like Silly Putty due the rude and sudden wakeup call. I'm not sure how I managed to do it without simply trampling down the stairs, but perhaps cousin Eric's earlier threat had given me the strength to do so.

Aunt Hilda was busy over the stove, frying another batch of pancakes it seemed, since she had a few on a plate next to the stove, and another plate was standing in the middle of the dining table. Uncle Gary and cousin Eric were already sitting there, with coffee and plates piled with food in front of them. Another plate had been laid down, possibly for me, which made my ears perk up.

"Good morning, Timmy!" Aunt Hilda greeted me all too cheerfully for the time of the day.

Uncle Gary was sitting with his back to me, but flicked his ears and rumbled a sideways "Morning" to me too. I lifted a paw and replied with a "Good morning" that I presumed to cover everyone, including the Rottie who was too busy munching down his pancakes to probably even notice I was there. I shuffled towards my seat on the table and settled down with a small thump once my butt hit the chair. I saw that there was only one pancake left on the plate on the middle of the table. I saw my opportunity there and picked up my fork to grab it onto my own plate...

...but of course I was too slow. As soon as my eyes landed on that pancake, cousin Eric reached out with his own paw and simply snatched the golden, crispy treat with his fingers and flopped it down onto his own plate. My ears flattened at the sight of the singular pancake's departure, and I gave my cousin a look.

Cousin Eric grinned toothily at me and dug into the pancake, with his knife and work, this time, his ears flicking as he opened his huge, smirking maw and pushed what looked like one quarter of the entire pancake into his waiting gullet. My stomach rumbled and I put my own fork down onto the table again, resigned to wait for the next pancakes to arrive. I'd act faster then, I decided, and picked up a piece of corn bread from the nearby basked to satisfy my hunger until that. Crisp bacon crunched between uncle Gary's chewing jaws while he continued to eat.

It was a bit odd to watch him eat - unlike dad, who always had the TV on or a newspaper, Uncle Gary did nothing but ate, chewing slowly, his eyes resting on the half-filled plate. Maybe, working in the very roots of much of the stuff that we put into our bellies, had given him a special appreciation for food. I surely had never seen dad eat like that, neither did anyone else ever since show such revered attitude towards our morning meal. At least he didn't look weirdly at me while I wolfed down my own portion of cornbread, and barely flicked and ear when cousin Eric burped loud enough to rattle the windows.

"Aren't you gonna wake up mom and dad?" I asked after a moment of quiet chewing, and feeling a bit better with the food in my belly.

Uncle Gary gave me a look across the table, and quirked his brow.

"They ain't coming to the milking," he rumbled, elbows resting against the edges of the table. "Don't have to be up until seven so that they can eat and get neat for church..."

"Same goes for my boys," aunt Hilda added from her place of the stove where she was just in the process of slipping a nice, newly fried pancake onto the plate before priming the pan for the next one.

I decided not to risk my cousin stealing that one from me, and thus got up and hurried to fork the pancake onto my plate. Aunt Hilda smiled at me when I did that, and even patted my arm when I was turning around. Cousin Eric watched me and flicked his ears and licked his lips.

"Looks like someone's mom's favorite now," the Rottie smirked, and I could see bits of the pancake stuck between his teeth.

"Sure he is!" Aunt Hilda grinned while I went on my way with my newly secured pancake.

Cousin Eric made smacking kissy noises with his lips and watched me all the way as I stepped back to my seat and began to cut into my golden breakfast.

The kitchen door then opened, and cousin Lynette entered, wearing a thick, fluffy bathrobe and slippers. She seemed fresh-eyed too, despite the hour, and greeted her mother with a kiss on her cheek.

"Ohh, fresh pancakes," she crooned and dipped her finger into the batter, and then suckled the white stuff clean with obviously pleasure in her rumbles.

"You can sit next to your cousin," Aunt Hilda smiled and waved her tail in my direction.

I smiled a little and nodded wearily to indicate the empty plate next to me.

"Come on right over," I said.

"Thanks, Timmy!" Lynette grinned.

*

The food disappeared all too sudden and then it was time to put on the old rubber boots again and get mucking. The morning routines went on at their familiar pace and form, and even if it had been almost a year since I did this before, I caught the hang of it soon enough...or so I would have thought, if it wasn't for cousin Eric. He remembered to hover nearby and comment on my every move, and tell me that I wasn't holding the shovel properly when I was shoveling shit, or that I didn't quite get the process of washing the teats right.

I gave him an indignant look and dropped my teat rag into the bucket, and water splashed up all the way to my knees.

"You should learn from Lynette...she knows how to handle a rack," Cousin Eric smirked.

I flicked my ears at him, Cousin Eric leered at me and then went on his way, whistling while he unnecessarily carried a hay bale over each of his shoulders. He was of course not wearing a shirt, and I was sure that the hay itched terribly, but he didn't seem to mind but went along, back lined with the occasional piece of hay stuck to his sweaty skin.

By the time we finished up, the kitchen was abuzz with activity again, this time to feed up my two bratty younger cousins, get some coffee into my mom and dad, and try to convince Cousin Eric that he really had to wear a tie to church this time.

"Feels like a noose around my neck", cousin Eric complained.

"Your pa doesn't complain," Aunt Hilda replied.

Uncle Gary patted my aunt's backside and gave her a kiss on the cheek while he stepped behind her and reached for the remaining corn bread and coffee that was resting on the kitchen counter, probably intending on some second breakfast after the grueling work at the dairy house. My arms already ached, and it was only my second time for summer doing this all. And there was plenty of my months left.

"I sure ain't complaining," Uncle Gary rumbled close to my giggling aunt's ear. "So get to it, son, but don't forget to wash first. We don't want to smell like some hillbillies in the house of our Lord."

Cousin Eric made a face but concealed it from his parents with a carefully positioned paw on his muzzle. I sure as hell didn't miss it.

"Same goes for you too, Timmy," my decisively bleary-eyed dad spoke from his post on the table, armed with a coffee mug. "Soap up good and wash your ears!"

I was almost blushing by that point, and only nodded and tried not to squawk anything embarrassing from my muzzle.

"You guys should go together," Uncle Gary added. "Have to spare that hot water so that everyone gets their share."

I gave him a mortified look and felt my ears flop down against my skull. Why would Uncle Gary be suggesting such a thing? Why with cousin Eric of all furs? My tail tensed and tucked itself between my legs and remained there, stiff as a stick. My eyes moved over to cousin Eric, who stood nearby, leering as usual, and scratching his ass through his dirty jeans.

"Come on, pup, you know how long it's gonna take if the girls get in there before we do," the Rottie smirked and winked at me. "I know that us boys can take care of things much faster."

Oh damn, it. This wasn't good news for me, since cousin Eric hadn't immediately denied the idea on the most basic level. Now it seemed that I actually would have to go through with it, after cousin Eric's apparent approval.

The Rottie stole a bit of his father's cornbread from the plate on the kitchen counter and then walked past, tail flapping and chewing loudly. His tail smacked against my hip when he went by, and I was sure that he winked, too before disappearing through the doorway.

"I hope you remember that the fresh towels are in the cupboard opposite the coat rack, in the back room, Timmy" Aunt Hilda cut in.

"Yeah," I muttered. "Just like they always are."

"That's right, honey," my aunt smiled.

I didn't really feel like smiling as I went through the motions of turning on my heels and then heading through the doorway into the back room where the house's 1940's vintage bathing facilities were located. It meant bare concrete floor on the spare room where they kept the washing machine - the only concession to modern comforts, it seemed to me - and some strange plastic wall covering, too. I closed the door behind me and then opened the cabinet that contained the promised fresh towels. I took my time in folding one open for me and then at taking off my shirt and putting it down onto the small bench by the coat rack. I guess that I was quietly hoping that I could spend so much time undressing that cousin Eric would actually be almost done with his own shower. Judging by the smell, he had already passed, though I couldn't hear the water running in the actual bathroom.

I was just unbuttoning my jeans once more when the door creaked open and cousin Eric's big head appeared, hovering disembodied in the air as he peeked through. His ears flicked down and he made a "prrrrr" sound with his tongue and snuffled in my direction.

"Come on, peckerhead," cousin Eric leered before he disappeared into the room again and pulled the door closed behind him.

I sighed and folded my jeans down to the bench. I grabbed my towel and put it around my waist before I slipped my boxers off my sore legs and added them to the pile, and only then I was finally ready the face my nemesis, naked as the day I was born.

A rush of steam puffed over my face as soon as I opened the door, and made me snuffle. It seemed that cousin Eric had stopped waiting for me, because my eyes soon found the tall guy under the showerhead, scrubbing some soap into his head furs. A steady stream of white suds was already going down along his spine before they gathered in the curve of his rump that split them into double stream along his big, round buttocks. His tail swung a little as it got its share of warm water, trying to run down along it as well. His musk mixed with the smell of the soap and wet furs, and made me snuffle again.

My appearance alerted cousin Eric, of course, and the turned around to face me while his paws kept up the act of scrubbing on his neck and his slick head. The water rushed over his chest now, matting up the already very smooth furs there. The protrusion of his sheath and the curly black hairs above that bump on his belly made the water run down in streaming rivulets. His thick arms bulged, positioned like that, and his ears flicked and sent drops flying. Damn he looked big down there besides everywhere else!

"Lose the towel and come on here, pup," my cousin grinned, and didn't miss a beat in his scrub.

I glanced over at the row of hooks on the tiled wall, each of which held a towel, and the biggest one was surely uncle Gary's, followed by a discolored thing that probably belonged to my very own cousin Eric. The hooks were loaded to the limit, but since mine was dry and clean, it probably wasn't such a big crime to hang it on top of a big pink towel.

I shivered a little, well knowing that my relatively scrawny body was all bared now and certainly bare to cousin Eric's scrutiny. I turned around and dropped my paw to cover my sheath as I stood there and wondered just how this two-Rottie showering was supposed to be done. Cousin Eric didn't seem too helpful, considering that all I saw of him now was that big black ass while he faced the other way around and continued the zealous soaping up of his head furs. He turned around eventually and gave me a scowling stare and waved his huge paw at me.

"Don't just stand there, pup, come on here."

I stepped forward but still remained beyond the reach of the cone of water cascading down onto my bigger cousin. He snuffled loudly upon my approach and then stepped backwards about a half a step, so that the water now ran only over his head and muzzle.

"Come on, soap up!" he rumbled, eyes closed.

I stepped forward again and now I was close enough so that the first spray of water could splash onto me, with about a foot of space between me and my cousin Eric. I knew that there was an extra bar of soap on the little shelf bolted to the wall, and I reached for the big, caked thing. I held it up under the stream of water to get a bit of wetness onto it and then started to run the slick soap over my arms.

It felt weird, to put it lightly, to do something I considered to be very private while someone else was practically breathing down onto my face. Literally down, too, because Cousin Eric was a head taller, and in all ways so much bigger than I was that I probably looked even younger than my age when compared to him. The year or so between us definitely showed in the muscle definition and sheer huskiness that was evident in my cousin. I tried not to stare at him, face to face as we were, and scrubbing ourselves down with the strong-smelling soap. It still wasn't enough to mask the essence of cousin Eric's scent, the deep musk emanating from him that always reminded me of a pair of boxers that had been worn a day too long. And that was his standard scent...let alone how he smelled after actually sweating or anything like that.

Cousin Eric rumbled even deeper when he lifted one arm and then ran the big, slick soap over the hairy pit of his bulky arm. His ears flicked up and down and I got the feeling that he was enjoying the sensation quite a lot. That didn't surprise me, really, considering that it was rare for the teenaged me to manage a shower without popping a boner sooner or later...but at this particular time, my nervousness at being naked around my big, BIG cousin kept my usually mischievous body at bay.

Soon both of us were covered in plenty of soapy suds, me more so, I suppose, because cousin Eric had been going at it a bit longer than I was, and soon he announced to me that he was finished...with a big paw smacked against my ass!

"Race ya!" the big Rottie snickered when I yelped and slapped my own paw over my suddenly grabbed ass, which only added to the previous smarting sensation since now I practically gave it another one. My tail jumped up and I let out a surprised huff and a quick snarl and pivoted to face the big Rottie, only to see his big ass wandering forward, tail wagging, as he went over to the hooks and grabbed his dirty towel. I watched how the dripping dog put that ugly thing around his waist and then sauntered for the door, but not before giving me a wink.

"Don't keep your folks waiting, we gotta be in church in time," my dirty cousin smirked before he disappeared into the other room, a shrill whistle off his lips.

I flopped my ears down and snarled into the stream of water rolling over my face, and rubbed my soapy paw over my newly smacked butt to get the smarting away. My tail tucked itself down between my rump cheeks and I snuffled quietly to myself. I sure hoped that there would be more showering schedule slots available once my parents were gone. Hell, maybe I'd be gone with them, already tonight, if I'd manage to whine enough about missing my friends and my stuff back home.

Well, I think I'm going to write more about that later on. It's past midnight and my wife is not entire wrong about me staying up all night doing God knows what being not too good on me. I'm already yawning every minute or so, too. Better save this up and have a read through tomorrow to make sure I didn't do much typos. That's what you get when you learn to use a computer in your 20's and not since the age two, kids. I'll try to write some more soon.

But I think I'm gonna check a couple of my favorite Tumblrs before bed. Suddenly feeling like it, and I don't think the missus is up to it at this hour.

See you soon.

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