Tuesday, March 7, 2017

Troy's Sausage Sighting of My Cousin Graydon

Lots of gay men have told me that their first sexual experience came with cousins: mutual j/o in the bathtub, oral behind the barn, anal during a sleepover.

Not me.  My cousins all lived hundreds of miles away, so we didn't get a lot of contact, at best two visits per year, at Christmas and in the summer.

Still, during my childhood, I accidentally got four sausage sightings and one grope: Joe, Phil, George, and Buster, four of my six boy cousins (not counting the ones from Kentucky).

Leaving Ed, 12 years older than me, and Graydon, 14 years younger (born in 1975, the only son of my Uncle Paul).

When I moved to West Hollywood in 1985, Cousin Graydon was still prepubescent, so there wouldn't have been much of a point to a sausage sighting.

But as he grew up, for some reason he bonded with my parents and sister, and after they moved to Indianapolis, he often drove down to visit, whether he was living in Auburn, Warsaw, Fort Wayne, or Grand Ile, Michigan.  Our paths crossed during several Christmas and summer holidays.

The young adult Graydon was tall and beefy -- he worked in construction, which gave him a presentable physique.  A bright, open face and a shock of dirty-blond hair.  Very cute.  A very visible bulge on the right side of his jeans.


I wanted a sausage sighting.

But whenever we visited Mom and Dad at the same time, I got the spare bedroom, and  Cousin Graydon took the fold-out couch in the study (later the home gym/sauna).

So no covers kicked off the bed.  No morning wood.

No "accidentally" running into him during a late-night bathroom visit.

When I suggested that we go jogging, Cousin Graydon went in there to strip down and change clothes.






This was getting frustrating.  How hard should it be to get a sausage sighting of your kid cousin, when he's sleeping in the room right next to you?













Indianapolis, December 24th, 2010

My boyfriend Troy and I have driven out to Indianapolis from Upstate New York.  We arrive bearing presents for my parents, my brother and sister, my nephew, and...sure enough, Cousin Graydon.

36 years old, unmarried but heterosexual, still working in construction.

Bearded, with a tattoo on his bicep, but still buffed.  Still with a very visible bulge on the right side of his jeans.

One of the dogs leaps onto his lap and accidentally lands on his bulge.  He grimaces and runs his hand over it.

I really want a sausage sighting.

So this year I go all out.

 His Christmas present is a retro Hawaiian swimsuit, so I can watch him change "to make sure it fits."

He changes in the bathroom.

Well, at least I get a bulge sighting.

That night I try to stay awake, waiting for a late-night trip to the bathroom, a half-opened door, and an "accidental" sausage sighting.  Eventually I fall asleep.



December 25th

We always open our presents on Christmas Eve, so there's nothing to do on Christmas Day but have dinner.    In the afternoon, Troy and I work out in the home gym, and then hit the sauna.  Cousin Graydon joins us -- in his underwear!

It's a small home sauna, very cramped with three people.  I can see his bulge very clearly.

But that's not a sausage sighting!

"You know what they do in Finland after a sauna?"  I tell him.  "They take off their clothes and run around naked in the snow."

"No way I would do that!"  Graydon exclaims.

It's no longer about the sausage sighting.  It's the principle.  I've seen four of my six male cousins naked without even trying.   Why is this one such a pain?

Later I "accidentally" leave a book in the home gym, so I can go to retrieve it when Graydon is already in bed.

No sausage sighting.

This is getting urgent.  Graydon is going back to Michigan tomorrow!

Again I stay awake into the night, waiting for a bathroom visit.

No bathroom visit.  Eventually I fall asleep.

December 26th.

After breakfast, Graydon leaves for Michigan, and my parents go to church.  Troy and I say that we're going to hang around the house, playing with the dogs and working on our laptops.

The moment we're alone, Troy takes my hand.  "Guess what?  I accomplished something that you've been trying to do for years.  All it took was a little luck."

I listen with increasing consternation.

In the middle of the night, Troy woke up with indigestion, and went into the kitchen to look for some Alka-Seltzer.  Graydon was there, standing over the sink eating a turkey sandwich, while the dogs looked on, begging.

One of the dogs thought that the tassel on Graydon's bathrobe was a toy, and started tugging on it.  The bathrobe fell open.  

Troy couldn't help staring.    

Graydon quickly wrapped up again.  "This never happened," he said with a grin.

"So, how was it?" I ask dismally.

"Fantastic!  Cut Kielbasa.  Low-hanging balls.  You should have been there!"

Well, there's always next year.

See also: Sausage Sighting of My Cousin Buster.




2 comments:

  1. Graydon's name is actually "Joe," but I changed it to avoid confusion with my other Cousin Joe.

    ReplyDelete
  2. You're probably wondering why Cousin Graydon doesn't spend Christmas with his own parents. The answer is, I don't know.

    ReplyDelete