Cousins Rivals A Wrestling Story

This is based on true events. You may have seen an abridged version somewhere else on internet. If you'd like to hear how this develops, let me know and I'll publish more.

*****

I've never actually mentioned this to anyone before, but was curious whether anyone had a similar experience.

Sorry I don't have time to write it out more eloquently.

In case you can't tell from my username, I'm Italian. I have the huge stereotypical family, but (unusually) I only have two first cousins - Tommaso, a year older than me, and Davide a year younger. As is probably quite common, all three of us grew up vying for the attention of my grandfather, who was essentially Don Corleone. Davide quit this game by the time we were about 5, but Tom and I were basically locked in a lifelong battle (figuratively and, occasionally literally) that started even before that age.

At first, Tom was always the more sporty one, and would bring home trophies and certificates all the time (much to my annoyance). I was always the more intellectual of the two and quite chubby at that age, two traits which our grandfather valued far more, and it was almost as if he knew that he was sowing seeds of jealousy and resentment when on one day I was the favourite, and the next day it was Tom.

The first time I remember this rivalry being vocalised was around age 8, and Tom and I were forced to share a bath together (I think my beleaguered grandmother thought we were puppies or something). One moment we'd be playing, next thing I know Tom is poking at my flab and making fun. Doing so much sport, he already had crazy abs going on. I remember his 'what are you going to do about it' look.

I sunk neck deep under the water and kicked him straight in the balls. I remember the flash of pain and shock on his face and we both started kicking at each other wildly until our grandmother came back in, threw down a large beach towel and told us to dry off. As soon as she left the room, I got straight out of the tub and into the towel . Tom was right behind. He tackled me to the ground and tried to yank the towel away, but i wouldn't let go.

Like two stupid wolf pups we tugged at the towel, dripping all over the place, until eventually it got thrown to the side and we smacked into each other, on the ground, Tom punching with both arms into my flab, me squeezing him around his waist in a bearhug while pulling his hair. The encounter ended with us knocking over a vase and my grandmother running in, shocked.

We didn't talk about this weird moment again, though competition continued to feature in our daily lives as usual, and occasionally a game would flare up into a light scrap. We would often arm wrestle, which at first I lost but that soon changed. Neither of us admitted it but we both did weights every night to try and get an edge in the arm wrestle - the result was that we both had disproportionately large biceps by 15.

As we hit puberty, our bodies both changed - I slimmed out and basically became as you see in my profile. He got a little more stacked. By the time we were 16, we were the same height and weight - 6ft and 75kg and looked pretty much identical. Dark, olive skin - typical Italian boys, basically.

The competition didn't boil over again in a major way until we were on holiday as a family - every summer we would drive from the UK to Italy, and my cousin and I always had to share a bed en route. The journey would start amicably enough, but a couple of weeks in a confined space with teenage hormones raging is too much for even the best of friends. And on this trip, around age 18 (Tom 19), we certainly weren't the best of friends.

Tom had just started dating a girl that he knew I really liked. We'd been texting for ages, but he'd got off with her at a party and I'd heard from friends that they'd slept together. He knew that I knew, but it didn't come to a head until one night, two weeks into the trip, when we were sharing a bed in Ancona. It was seriously hot, about 30 degrees at night, and lying right next to each other was creating even more heat, even in just boxer shorts.

I was feeling seriously pissed off, and decided now was as good a time as any to start some shit. I had to whisper as our families were asleep in the next room.

"Can't find your own fucking girlfriend?" I whispered in Italian.

There was silence for a moment but i knew he was awake.

"...I guess she preferred a real Marrone [our family name]. Anyway, she's with me now, nothing you can do about it!" he said testily.

Frustratingly, he was right. I couldn't start something here, our parents would wake up and open a can of Catholic whoop-ass. But this was too much. I was a ball of testosterone boiling over. I pulled back my arm under the sheets and landed a thwacking punch on Tom's bicep.

"What the fuck?" he said, but by the glint in his eye I knew he wanted to punch me back.

"Let's see who's the real Marrone then," he challenged. "Who's stronger?"

And so, silently and tentatively we locked into a sweaty bearhug under the sheets. Our legs got tied up and our foreheads were pressed together, nose-to-nose. In the moonlight I could see his look of hatred and his winces of pain as I tightened my grip. I had been lifting weights secretly and was proud of my bulging biceps, just as big (if not bigger) than Tom's.

This was more intense than the usual cousin scrap and we were whispering creative obscenities to each other, the bed creaking as we rolled over.

"If you like her so much, you can buy a ticket to watch us fuck!" he spat.

I growled and squeezed harder. "I've already fucked her, asshole!" Unlike our previous fights, the thrill inside began to manifest physically. I could feel a tenting in the boxers. I wasn't sure if Tom noticed, but his cock was pressing into mine as well. I panicked a little, and released the bearhug. Gasping, we rolled away from each other onto opposite sides of the bed.

"Pussy!" he smirked through relief. We both knew that our parents would be going to visit relatives in the afternoon tomorrow, and there'd be time to settle the score then.

We ate a huge breakfast and spent the day on the beach as usual - and then the time came. Our parents drove off mid-afternoon and we went back to the small room. In the backseat of the car, we had already begun a test of strength with our legs in the footwell, pushing against eachother.

As I put the key in the hotel room door, Tom was millimetres behind me. He slapped my ass testily.

"Hurry up, pussy."

We went in, I slammed the door, and without another word he slapped off my cap and we started to go at it full pelt in our swim shorts. I remember that we were both lean and taut, with the same diamond patch of chest hair. Remarkable really that we weren't brothers. It was more of a fistfight at first, like wildcats we just laid into each other with the most speed and force we could, unleashing a decade of pent up aggression.

We slammed fists and knees into each other in bursts, and when we stopped we laughed a bit to try and keep the veneer that this was somehow just another casual scrap, but as soon as we locked up the mood was silent and serious. When we finally took it to the ground, it didn't slow up. There was punching, biting, hair pulling.

We were completely equally matched so resorted to other tactics. Tom slammed me down on my back, and started to choke me with one hand, placing the other over my mouth. I grabbed his throat in return from below, and he spat on my face. I slugged him hard and he released his grip. We both stood up at exactly the same moment and locked into a bearhug. It was so sweaty that it was easy to slip behind and apply what I now know is called a rear naked choke. I jumped on his back and scissored him, and we fell backwards onto the bed.

He clawed at my face and yanked my hair from behind, and after about half a minute he managed to roll us onto the floor and get out of it. Again he was straddling me, and now banging my head against the floor.

"You fight like Trish Stratus!" I yelled. I kneed him in the back and he flew forwards, so he was basically schoolboy pinning me, his swimshorts in my face. He pushed his semi-hard cock into my face, and disgusted, I headbutted him in the balls, and he fell back in pain.

We both took a minute to recover, panting on the floor. It got slower after that. I pulled him up by the hair and we stood facing each other. Our bodies had become more defined from the exertion of fighting. I hardly noticed that we both had massive boners pointing straight ahead. Looking Tom in the eye, I slapped his tented shorts, and he did the same to me. The feeling just made me want to beat him more. We stepped forward until we were toe to toe and our shorts were pressing together. I could feel it beating. I didn't think of this as sexual, just that this was the cock that had potentially been inside the girl I wanted.

I planted two light testy punches on his pecs, and he did the same to me. We assumed a 'mercy' test of strength, which neither could win. Eventually we broke and he pushed me onto the bed. He fell on top of me, and on the point of exhaustion we exchanged a few more holds, constantly cock to cock.

It was almost sunset, and totally spent we rolled off each other and lay side by side on the bed. I was still rock hard.

"Good fight," Tom said, wiping sweat from his face.

I was too out of breath to speak. We just lay there for a while, and then Tom flicked on the TV. It was the Miss Italia contest - which is essentially Miss World but with more nudity. A horny teenager's dream. We watched for a bit, and then I noticed that Tom was stroking his shorts. I tentatively started doing the same.

As they got to the wet t-shirt contest, we decided fuck it, lost the swim shorts and just went into full whack-off mode. I wasn't really surprised to see that we were both very similarly endowed, with the same forest of black hair. Tom put his arm around my shoulder, and I did the same to him, and we started furiously jerking off. This went on for about 15 minutes, and I was getting seriously close. As we lay next to each other our legs were pressed together, and we locked them up, melding into one person. In a weird way, I knew that this was the start of another form of combat between us.

Then suddenly, just as my back was starting to arch, he batted my hand away and gripped my shaft tightly, and began wanking me at double speed.

"Now let's see you become my bitch!" he moaned triumphantly.

I was horrified. I grabbed his cock in turn and yanked it as fast as I possibly could with my left hand. Suddenly it became an endurance test, but it didn't last long. My toes curling, eyes tightly closed, some strange compulsion just made me jump on top of him and smash our cocks together in the last few seconds. He grabbed my ass and pushed us closer together, and we both held our breath. A few seconds later, I kid you not, we both spewed a river of cum at almost exactly the same time, covering Tom's abs.

We immediately became quite sheepish and laughed nervously as we quickly got up and jumped into the shower to get rid of the evidence.

After that we went down to dinner with our parents, and didn't talk about what happened again - until very recently when something else occurred that triggered all these memories.

I realise this is particularly extreme, but wondered if anyone had a similar rivalry, and what your relationship was like now?