Who says only Plato can love?

You know, a lot of people won’t admit to having done ‘something’ with their cousin. I’m on of them. But if I don’t write it down or tell someone, which I guess since I must it’ll be you, I’m going to go crazy! To talk is to forgive, to forgive is to forget, and to forget is bliss. So here is the insanely disgusting story of how my cousin and I fell in love, out of love, and back in. Feel free to vomit, because I know I have quite a few times over the past few years.

Growing up, I didn’t have a lot of family. My dad, Arthur, had only one brother, Krzysztof, and one sister, Maria. My dad had only one child, me, Chase. Uncle Krzysztof had only one son, Thomas, Tom for short. And Aunt Maria never had children of her own. Actually, she went off to college in ’88 and came back with a girlfriend and a little black baby she called LaChandra. While my family and Tom and his live next door to each other in Honolulu, she, Hannah, her girlfriend, and LaChandra live on a Havasu Reservation in Arizona because Hannah’s half Havasu. I only get to see them every other year or so, it really sucks. So since I didn’t have a lot of family, I, my parents, Tom and his parents spent just about every possible moment together. Being of Polish descent with a smattering of Germanic ancestors, my parents and aunt and uncle spoke perfect Polish and forced Tom and myself to learn to speak, read, and write the Polish language. I would say they were Nazis about it, but it was the very Nazis which drive my parents to such manias about ‘Mother Poland.’ It seems every couple of years or so were hoping on a plan to go see Babcia and Dziadek Grabowski (Grandma and Grandpa Grabowski), who used all the money they had to send their children to America but could never make enough to get there themselves and blah blah blah! I really don’t enjoy Poland. It’s all gray and everyone has horror stories about the Communists and all my grandparents do is go to mass! Soooo boring! But at least it’s better than going to see my aunt Magdalena, the one my dad, uncle and aunt were sent to live with in America. She talks none stop about the joy of living in Capitalist America and how cute I am and how I look like my Great-Grandfather Michal and how Tom looks like my Great-Grandmother Eryka. Blah!

Touching on the subject of looks, I definitely look like a Pole. I’m blonde and tall and skinny, but I’m green-eyed from my German Great-Grandmother Eryka and tan from living in Hawaii. But Tom has black hair and bright blue eyes, he’s short but muscled from surfing, yet a ghost. If tanning was a subject in school, he’d have failed miserably, no matter how much time we spend in the water, he’s just as pale as he was six months before during the winter. Since my family (which includes Aunt Elzbieta [Tom’s mom] and Uncle Krzysztof) moved to Hawaii in 1990, where Tom and I were born a two years later, two days apart, surfing has been a familial passion bordering on mania, like all things we do. Besides that my parents are total health nuts and wouldn’t let me eat any junk food or fast food. Needless to say we saved tons on eating out. To this day you would think Tom and I are crazy for keeping up this fanaticism over eating right, but nothing else tastes (or looks) good enough to eat. But we can always say, “At least we have our health,” when things are tough.
So, to Tom’s and my life together: it all started when we were eleven. You see, at eleven, Tom played football because he was, as always, stocky and muscular, and I played basketball because I had just received a growth spurt, adding a foot to my height. We were puffed up with testosterone and always flaunting it. I laughed at Tom daily when he came over to do homework because he was so pale, but when we changed into bathing suits he laughed because he was bigger than me downstairs. Little bitch. Well, we got comfortable together, with and without clothes on. At fourteen things started changing much more drastically. I got even taller, my voice deeper, my penis bigger, much bigger. Tom got about five inches taller to a whopping five foot eleven inches and his voice only dropped a few notes, giving him a soft-spoken voice which he rarely used for shouting, but he got bigger. Way, WAY bigger. And hairy. It was almost gross, but also very hot. I don’t know, he was fourteen with chest hair, something about that fact made me giggle like a schoolboy. At fifteen we discovered porn. Both sets of parents worked till six PM or later, so we had a good three hours before a parental unit showed up. Tom got a bottle of lube from the friend who showed him and showed me how it was done. He was very hands-on about teaching me how to masturbate too. He got me hard by kissing me, rubbing my genitals, sliding his hands into my pants, sticking my penis into his mouth, lubing me up and giving me a hand job till I came. “And that my boy is how one masturbates,” he said, his eyes showing with pride at being his teacher of sexual exploits. But there was something else there, something I couldn’t read. Love? Lust? At the time, I had no idea. I was a pretty late bloomer, so I had absolutely no idea what was going on. “Is that exactly how Andrew Morrison showed you how to do it?”

“No, not exactly, but pretty close.”

“Well what did you change?”

“He didn’t put my dick in his mouth.”

“That was your idea?”

“Umm, sure.” He was grinning and blushing like a rose in full bloom. Something inside me told me to kiss him, so I leaned in and took his face full in my hands, my thin lips meeting his thick luscious one in a slippery embrace. He kissed me back, his hand flying to my rock hard cock, my hands ripping his shirt up, his hands tearing of my trousers, my hands seizing his undergarments and snatching them like a thief. He pushes me onto his bed and stars madly sucking my cock, my hands forcing my penis deeper and deeper into his mouth. His fingers starting fingering me, opening me wider and wider. He lubes up and plunges in. He fucks and fucks, changing positions and going from fast to slow. All I can think is, ‘Wow, why didn’t we know about this sooner?!’ I tighten, I explode; he pulls out, he explodes. We look at the mess we’ve created on my stomach and laugh: most of my stomach is covered in semen. He leans down and kisses me, our mess and penises squished between our stomachs. “How about we go get cleaned up? Race you to the shower!” I wasn’t thinking, ‘Oh God, what have I done?! Isn’t this what they warn us about in church! And this is my fucking cousin!’ I was thinking, ‘Oh my God, when can we do this again?!’

Some people will say that a shower is a shower no matter what, but they obviously haven’t showered with their hot and horny cousins! The water was cold, but that doesn’t mean the shower wasn’t steamy!! We thought we knew our bodies before, but we discovered hidden places that we never dreamed existed. He kissed me, washed my body, fingered me, made me tingle all over. I kissed him back, washed him, rimmed him, fingered him; he seemed to like it, but I was the bottom, that was clear. When the shower was done, it was five thirty, and we needed to haul ass to get our shit done before a parental unit arrived. Well, I cleaned the house, he did the homework and by five forty-five we were done with enough time to make out for a bit. A great day, a great day indeed.

But that night I woke up at about one in the morning and went, ‘Oh my fucking god I had sex with my male cousin!’ I cried that night, not only because I realized that I hadn’t put up a fight, told him no, liked it and wanted more, but because I was no longer a virgin. My parents had instilled chastity in me for so long that I thought I would make it to my marriage bed with my virginity intact. That was a Friday night. My parents and Aunt and Uncle had decided to go to some play at the Diamond Head Theatre downtown and said Tom and I could stay or go. We decided to stay. He came over to my house as I was making Caesar salads for lunch. He said Hey when he came in and sat down at the kitchen table. I gave him his salad and sat down. We didn’t say anything for a long time, just eating our salads. I looked up. He looked up. I started to cry. He started to apologize. “Look, Chase…I’m sooooooooo sorry about what happened yesterday. I didn’t mean to take it that far, it’s just you’re so gorgeous and…”

‘Cudowne i ...’ “Cudowne i co?” “Gorgeous and what?”

“Amazing! You’re gorgeous and hot and right here at the end of my hands! You’re everything I’ve ever dreamed of and more!” He was smiling, tears running down his face. “Chase, I didn’t mean to make you cry. I cried about it too if that makes you feel better.”

“Why’d you cry?”

“Because I lost my virginity.”

“Haha, it’s funny how much we’re alike, you know that?”

“Why? Is that why you were crying?”

“Yeah…”

“Oh Chase, I love you.”

“I love you too, Tom.” I take his chin in my hand and kiss his lips ever so lightly. I look down through my lashes at him, smile, and run off to my bedroom. I hear him laugh and give chase to Chase the unchaste. He finds me sprawled in my bed, sans clothing, my legs as wide as the Grand Canyon, my cock as large as the Washington Monument. I smile as he takes off his clothes, his muscles huge and covered in downy black hair. Au naturel, he slides into my bedding and kisses me sweetly. He covers my neck with kisses, and I have to chastise him for trying to give me a hickey. He takes my hand and kisses his way down to the fingers, then around to my under arms, down my legs and back up to my balls. He sucks my cock, and then insists we role play. We pretend I’m a Turkish Bey and he’s my harem boy, alive only to pleasure me. We pretend he’s an Indian warrior raiding my village, taking me as his prize, fucking my ass brutally as he pulls my hair as if I was a horse he was riding. Next we’re dolphins, riding the waves of the ocean of passion we’re adrift in. He pretends I’m his musical instrument, using my ear as a kazoo, my cock as flute, my leg his piano. I pretend he’s the Zeus to my Danaë, the yang to my ying. It was a perfect afternoon, made more perfect by his vow of everlasting love and devotion. But like all fifteen year-old boys, he was bound to be unfaithful.

See, Tom never explained to me that he liked girls to. Apparently that went without saying that Tom liked vagina as well as penis. News to me. One day about a month after he vowed everlasting love and devotion, he came home and said he needed me to stay out of his room today. I asked why. He said he was banging this chick today and he wasn’t quite comfortable fucking his first pussy with his boy lover in the room. I started screaming. The girl came out and asked what was wrong. She saw me screaming and ran back into the room. It’s a good thing I was screaming in Polish, because I said some filthy things about the two of them. Tom asked me if I was done. I said he’d hear the end of it when I fucking died. Then he had the nerve to ask me if that would be soon, because he was a bit anxious to get started. I slapped his face, screamed “Kurwa!”(Whore!) at Tom’s house guest, and ran out the door. I cried my eyes out and when my parents came home I told them I didn’t feel good and went right to bed. Then I did something else I’d never done before: snuck out. I went down to the beach and just laid there. I wasn’t stupid enough to try to go swimming at night, so I just laid in the sand and stared up at the stars. At about three AM I went back to my house, hid my sandy clothes, and slept. When my mom tried to wake me up, I told her I still didn’t feel well, so she stayed home and pampered me. For all their craziness about Polish and eating right, they were great parents. Dad came home early with my favorite and the most forbidden treat, chocolate ice cream. We had a bowl after dinner and watched the Quiet Man, which was one of my parent’s favorite movies. I felt so much better knowing that my parents still loved me unconditionally. I went to bed happy that night.
But I woke up in the middle of the night, burning with an idea. I smiled to myself in the dark and rolled back into sleep. The next day I walked up to Mimi Keao, a Hawaiian-Laos girl who was really pretty and a known slut, and asked her if she wanted to hang that afternoon. She looked me up and down, lifted my shirt to examine my abs, and said yes. I walked her to my house and we just talked for an hour then we got it ON! Mimi may have been a slut, but she was a damn good one. She gave head better than Tom, kissed better than Tom, and was a way better fuck than Tom. Besides that she had huge tits that were quite fun to fondle. Afterwards she had her head on my shoulder and said that I was the best fuck she’d had in a long, long time. I confessed I was a virgin. She said, “Oh I know, that’s why you were the best.”

“What do you mean?”

“You were so eager and had so much energy; you were certainly a better fuck than your cousin.”

“You fucked Tom?”

“Yep. He made me do all the work and I got like, no climax. I got three with you.”

“Well, I’m glad to have serviced you ma’am.”

“And people call me the slut.” She smiled, kissed me, and got dressed. “Hey, if you ever need another fuck, just let me know, okay? And keep in touch, you’re a sweet guy.” I smiled, walked her to the door, and laid down on my bed in nothing but my underwear. I laughed my ass off that she’d fucked Tom and found me the better fuck, since his dick was two inches bigger than mine. I hadn’t seen Tom in a couple of days, which was super weird in our family that always saw each other. I never talked to him in class anymore, and he seemed engrossed in his school work always. ‘He must be dying without me to actually do his school work.’ I laughed, pulled on my shorts and walked over to his house. It was a conversation I was angling after, one where he was on his knees begging for me back and swearing undying loyalty.

I let myself in through the back and I heard nothing. ‘Odd, Tom always has some m
usic playing.’ I walked into his room to find him sobbing into his pillow. I knocked on the open door and said, “Hello, ass-wipe.”

“Chase! I’m so glad to see you!”

“Like hell you are.”

“And what does that mean?”

“I’m surprised you don’t have your whore with you today.”

“She dumped me.”

“And why is that?”

“I told her what you said.”

“Why the fuck would you do that? You had her in your lap, ready to get some.”

“She heard you were angry and wanted to know about what. She didn’t know you were my cousin. She thought you were my brother. Then I told her you were screaming because you were my lover and she said she didn’t want some gay guy’s sex toy. Plus I think you offended her with your screaming ‘Whore’ at her.”

“Well I’m so terribly sorry I screwed up your pussy party.” I laughed at his face when he felt my sarcastic sting. He got down on his knees and said, “Chase, come back to me. I promise that I’ll never do that again. I’ll tell you next time I want some pussy and that way we can avoid an incident.”

“You really think that’s what you can say to get me back?” I was pissed, I was shaking. I looked him in his face and saw he was serious. “I fucked Mimi Keao and she said I was a better fuck than you. By a long shot.” I walked out of the house and slammed the door. I grabbed my board, wrote a note to my parents and went surfing till the sharks came feeding. I walked slowly back to the house, grabbed me some chocolate ice cream and sang curse words in Polish down the street. I got to my house and my mother came and asked if I was hungry. We were having my favorite dinner, Chicken Parmesan. I said I was ravenous and said that I couldn’t wait to assist her with the dishes. She blinked and checked my forehead. My mother laughed and said she’d be delighted with my help. I was in a mood to occupy myself, so I cleaned the house, did my homework, organized my binder and rearranged my room. I asked my dad if I could paint my room and he said to hold my horses until the weekend and to get to bed, it was a school night. I laughed and went back to my room. I brushed and flossed my teeth, gargled with Listerine and straightened up the bathroom. I looked at the clock, ten PM. ‘Just enough time to get eight hours of sleep.’ I laughed again at my studiousness and went to sleep.

I spent the next three weeks being the perfect child. I cleaned, cooked, did my homework, studied, read Polish books and wrote letters to my Polish grandparents, surfed and spent time with my family. I didn’t talk much to Tom at the time, and he seemed even more quite than ever. His mom told my mom he wasn’t eating much and she didn’t know what it was. He spent all day working out and surfing. Aunt Elzbieta shrugged and went back to washing dishes. I looked at him watching TV from the kitchen and I knew what was wrong. ‘Tom can’t get a girl. He’s missing me.’ It was Saturday, Mom, Dad, Aunt Elzbieta, Uncle Krzysztof, Tom and I usually had dinner at Elzbieta and Krzysztof’s house and then the parental units went to the theatre or the movies or something. Tom and I usually hung out on the Saturdays, but the last three I’d been going home and returning to the house before they got home. But I was determined to win this battle tonight. I’d kept poor Tom in penitence for long enough, it was time for parole. The elders left, it was just Tom and I. He was on the couch, looking at the TV but not comprehending what he was seeing. I turned it off and he came back to life. “Hey, I was watching that!”
“Tom, it’s time to talk.”

“Why would you want to talk to me? I disappointed you last time, why not this time?”

“Tom, I’ve never known you to be a self-pity person.”

“I’m usually not. You made me that way.”

“Well, you kind of made me feel like a totally worthless slut that was second string where I thought I was first. Don’t you think you were asking for a very pissed off person?” He doesn’t say anything, a clear admission of guilt. “Yeah, that’s what I felt like.”

“Well we can be together now!”

“You’re quite mistaken sir. I’m dating Mimi Keao now. I just didn’t want you to waste away into nothingness. You are my cousin after all.”

“So you came over here to make up, but not to shack up?”

“That’s the gist of it, yes. I don’t want our parents putting two and two together and splitting us up. I love you like a brother man.”

“Podobnie jak brat.” “Like a brother.” He looked at me and while his smile didn’t say ecstatic, it did say happy. I laughed, hugged him, and asked what they had to eat around here. He smiled and pointed me to the fridge.

Two weeks went by like lightning. Tom and I went surfing every day with Mimi and Chiaretta, an Italian exchange student who was infatuated with Tom. Every day was a great day, because Mimi and I were going strong and so were Tom and Chiaretta. But on the Monday of the third week I was going up the stairs to my Hawaiian class to get a book I’d left, and I found Mimi and Andrew Morrison making out. Upon closer inspection I found his left hand was up her skirt, and moving. I cleared my throat and they both jumped. Mimi laughed, pushed Andrew’s hand from her panties, and kissed my cheek. I pushed her away and told her she was a slut in Hawaiian. She went to slap me but I caught her hand. “Don’t.” I said in Hawaiian. Andrew was flabbergasted, both at being caught and at my catching Mimi’s hand. I turned on him. “And you, you little piece of shit. If I ever catch you anywhere near someone I’m dating again, I’ll beat the shit out of you so hard your grandparents will need a paramedic.” He gave a little yelp and ran off. “Needless to say we’re over bitch.” I hurried up the stairs, grabbed my book, and went to opposite way back to my class. My anger lasted until I got to Tom’s house. He was alone, and I barged into his room and just started sobbing onto his chest. He just held me. When I looked him in the eyes there was understanding. He kissed me, led me to bed and held me there for the whole afternoon.
We spent the rest of high school together. We got out and went to Harvard together. We went back to Hawaii and set up shop and house. We were vacationing in Jersey when he asked me. It was late, the sun was setting and it was beautiful. I was packing up and he said not to. I stopped and looked at him. He was on one knee. I started crying. He asked and I said, “And are we going to get a dispensation from the Pope?! We can’t get married! We’re fucking cousins!”

“I changed my last name a month ago, it’s final. And after we’re married, I’ll change it back. No one has to know we’re cousins. Gay marriage is legal here, we can do it!”

“It won’t be legal back home. You know it’s illegal.”

“True, but do I seem to care?” He was so convincing, so handsome, I said yes. But when we went to the county court, they asked to see IDs so they could run it through the computer to make sure we were eligible for a marriage license. We looked at each other and left. I cried, again. But that’s the legal system. In the end, Tom and I ended up marrying two polish cousins and living next to each other. We stopped being lovers when we married. But I still loved him more than my wife.

And now i now he loved me the same way, even until the end. Yes, Tom's dead. He died of a heart attack shortly hafter we got back from one last vacation in the carribean. He was only forty! And he was so healthy!! Even the doctors were baffled. My poor Tom laid there in a coma for a week before he woke up to say my name and when i couldn't be reached, (I was in Charlotte Amelie still), he told his wife, his fucking wife! to tell me he loved me, and would be waiting. Needless to say that I never talked to her again after that. But she didn't move away, one her son didn't want to move away from his cousin, and two she had no money. Needless to say i was crushed. Tom was my world, my everything. I loved him to the point of distraction. I didn't cry; I couldn't. This was a sadness so deep i felt it to my very soul. When he died, he took away my Kiss of Life. He took away my sea, my stars, my sun. I railed against a God who hated my love in every form, an avengeful, angry God who seemed to hate love in all forms. I railed against everyone; against Nature, for making things a certain way and denying the hormones she'd blessed us with, against Zeus for being a perfect masculine man, against Aphrodite and her son for cursing me with a love too great to bear. I cursed and railed and screamed and swore. I contemplated being the Haimon to his Antigone and killing myself, but what would that accomplish? Only to sate the angry God who tore us appart. I wished so much to kiss him again, to hold him, to tell him one more time that he was my all. I started to resent my wife, she was so...understanding. I wanted anger, i wanted rage! And all I got was compassion! Fucking Compassion! Do you understand me?! Czy Pan rozumie? Czy?! She didn't deserve it. But she stuck by me. She loved me, even if I didn't at that moment. I think that was how Tom wanted it. Maybe it was like his parting gift? I don't know. I'll never know. But he gave me a great gift, and it only made me love him all the more. Maybe this is why whatever God did it, did it? I hope so, things turned out great. Thank you Tom, I love you.