Mitch is Harry’s cousin from Kentucky, and he’s just in time for election season. The only problem is, he seems a little confused about Canada’s political color scheme.
Disclaimer: Yeah. No. Not a snowball’s chance in hell this is meant as legitimate political commentary. I just got an idea I thought was pretty hot and also quite topical and decided to run with it. I hope you guys can enjoy, despite the rather political bent of it.
"Fuck yeah!" Mitch crowed. "Only fags vote blue! Real men vote red. USA. USA. USA!" There were places in the US, Harry imagined, that his cousin’s obnoxiously loud, appallingly ignorant diatribe would have been hailed as almost-patriotic. The middle of a half-deserted big box store in the middle of Calgary was another matter entirely.
It had been the better part of a year since Mitch came up to live with Harry and his parents at the behest of Mitch’s mother Sarah, Harry’s father Brian’s sister. Since the two rarely ever spent time together, Harry being busy finishing up his last year of university, the last year had been mostly tolerable despite the presence of his redneck cousin.
Today, unfortunately, was grocery day and both Harry’s parents were down for the count. Harry had driven them to the polling station earlier in the day, but they’d looked pretty bad then and the hours hadn’t been kind to them. The two had come down with the flu, and since Harry wasn’t nearly strong enough to take care of the groceries himself, he had no choice but to bring Mitch.
As for why Harry was going grocery shopping in the middle of the night, he had had schoolwork to get through. Between that and making sure his parents weren’t dying of the flu, he didn’t really have time to spare until his parents finally dozed off shortly after their hastily-prepared supper.
The thing about Mitch was that he proved why the American stereotype existed. If he didn’t know better, Harry would have said his cousin was acting deliberately like a caricature of what the average Canadian thought about the stereotypical American, but the unfortunate truth was that it was a hundred percent genuine and sincere.
Mitch, unsurprisingly, had the knack to do three things whenever something semi-serious came up. First, he managed to make it about himself. Then, he managed to make it about the US. And lastly, which didn’t happen all the time but still happened a fair bit more than Harry thought made sense, Mitch made it about either the immigrants or the gays.
As per usual, Mitch was insinuating himself where he didn’t belong, knowing nothing about what he was getting himself into. If he’d done even a little research, Mitch would have figured out that up in Canada, the red party was the Liberal party while the blue party was the Conservative party.
Harry would have told Mitch about the mix-up, but he saw no reason to after how obnoxious Mitch had been from the moment he realized there was an election going on. In fact, a more vindictive part of Harry was taking pleasure in the fact that all of the Canadians they’d met who had overheard Mitch’s proclamations were too polite to say anything about it.
If he was being honest, Harry wasn’t even sure how Mitch had made such a basic mistake. Nearly everywhere there was information about the elections, the red party was clearly marked as the Liberals and the blue party was marked as the Conservatives. Though glancing over Mitch’s shoulder, he imagined it had something to do with the fact that Mitch was looking only at the electoral map. Typical.
Feeling a little bit sadistic as they departed the store, Harry turned to Mitch and said, "Should you really be so loud about supporting the reds?" he said. "I know this is Alberta, but people think the Liberals really got a shot at keeping a hold of government. With the election being as close as it is I wouldn’t be so loud especially when emotions are running high."
Mitch just rolled his eyes and scoffed. "Pfft. Libtards aren’t gonna win with that crook Tussaud," he said. Harry resisted the urge to smack his forehead against the nearest wall. He couldn’t even begin to conceive how he was related to someone so profoundly stupid. "I’d sooner be a cocksucking faggot whore before the libs win. My boys in red will make sure of that!"
"Of course they are," said Harry, shaking his head as they made their way over to his parked car and got everything put away in the trunk. He thought nothing else of the exchange, unaware that someone very powerful had been paying attention to their conversation.
Unable to sleep while he waited for the election results to come in, but not really feeling up to the task of staying up at his computer for the rest of the evening, Harry found himself in the living room, draped over the love seat, while Mitch and his equally clueless girlfriend watched football on the television.
Harry would have preferred to watch the election results come in through the TV, but there was a fat zero-percent chance of that happening now that Mitch was dialled in to one of his games. He didn’t mind too much, though. At the very least it meant that Mitch would remain ignorant of his own stupidity for at least a little while longer.
"Hey," said Mitch, "how’re my boys doing?"
Harry glanced at the map. So far, polls had just closed in Manitoba and Saskatchewan and it looked like the Liberals were holding on to a decent lead over the Conservatives. "Looks like the reds are doing pretty good for themselves," he said, rolling his eyes at the exaggerated fist-pump that Mitch did before slinging his arm over the delicate twink sitting beside him.
For a moment, Harry stared at the young man sitting on the couch beside his cousin. He couldn’t shake the feeling that the twink should have been someone else. The name Pauline came to mind, but it was weird, almost as if it didn’t quite make sense.
It hit Harry after a little while. He still hadn’t gotten used to the fact that Mitch was, maybe a little bit, gay. He would never admit it, and liked to brag that Paul was his faggot suckbitch and nothing more, but that didn’t fool Harry one bit.
Despite Mitch’s bluster, the big, boisterous guy from down south must have been treating Paul well enough that the twink was looking up at him with adoring eyes while he watched the game on the TV. It was weird, and Harry didn’t think he would ever get used to it, but he could only hope that Mitch got his shit together before anything bad happened between the two.
About an hour later, during an ad break, Mitch turned to Harry and asked for another update on the election. Harry related that the big surprise of the night was the resurgence of the Bloc Quebecois, but Mitch didn’t care. All he wanted to know was how well the reds were doing.
By that point it was pretty apparent that the Liberals weren’t doing as well as they were during the last election, which Harry mentioned, much to Mitch’s glee. But he also said that the reds were still holding on to a sizable lead that the blues were probably not going to be able to close.
"That’s what I’m talking about," said Mitch, bumping shoulders with the trim, toned jock sitting on the couch next to him. "Hear that, bro? The reds are doing great."
The jock squinted at the television, chuckled, and said, "I think you’re color-blind, bro. I don’t see no reds on the field. Oh… Wait. There. That’s red. Oh… That’s an ad. Yeah. I don’t get it."
Harry’s cock twitched. He had a thing for dumbass jocks, and it was such a pain in the ass that his obnoxious cousin Mitch had managed to land one before he did. Mitch wasn’t even out to his own parents, but didn’t seem to have a single issue with bringing this particular guy home to Harry’s parents’ house.
The way that Harry understood it, the two were really, "actually" straight bros who just happened to fuck every now and again to give each other a hand with the blue balls because the ladies hated them. He could totally buy that the two were fuck-buddies, but he did not buy that they were straight.
Harry had seen the way that both jocks looked at him hungrily like he was a piece of meat. One time he’d walked in on the two going at it like fucking rabbits in his room and they’d had the gall to ask him if he wanted to join.
At the time, his cock had said God, yes, but Harry had at least had the wherewithal to understand that it was a bad idea and quickly made an excuse to get out. Straight his pale, pasty ass. Those two were about as straight as a rainbow.
Since updates on the electoral map had slowed down a bit, Harry had taken to playing some of the games he had on his phone to pass the time. He was just finding it difficult to focus on what he was doing when he could see Mitch’s leg repeatedly bouncing up and down out of the corner of his eye.
Harry sighed and set his phone down on his chest. He turned his head over to the side to look at his cousin. He liked to think that he wasn’t the kind of gay guy that thirsted over every hot man in his life, but it was incredibly difficult not to thirst over his hot cousin.
The worst part of Mitch’s visit was how liberal he was with clothing, or rather the lack thereof. Right now, the red-blooded American jock was leaning his head against his equally-cut, just-as-hot, and similarly nearly-naked boyfriend.
Unlike Paul, who seemed utterly enraptured by the game on TV, openly rubbing his sizable erection through the gym shorts that he had on, Mitch seemed unable to concentrate on both the football or the hot guys playing it. "Nervous?" quipped Harry, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
"Yeah…" said Mitch. "How… How are the reds doing?" he said.
Harry still hadn’t managed to find it in himself to tell Mitch that the reds were, despite their flaws, the "good" guys. Maybe it was vindictive, but Mitch lived such a happy, worry-free life on the day-to-day life that Harry took a perverse kind of pleasure in seeing him a little bit distressed at the thought that the "cons" were winning.
"The reds are still in the lead," said Harry, struggling to contain his satisfaction as the expression on Mitch’s face fell even further. Oh, yeah. He was definitely getting off on the look of mild terror on his cousin’s face.
"Babe?" said Mitch, placing his hand on Paul’s arm. "Babe!" he repeated, slapping the big guy’s bicep to get his attention away from the TV. "I’m scared… The reds are winning…"
Paul looked down at Mitch, blinked, looked at the TV, looked back at Mitch, and said, "Are you okay, babe? There’s no red in the game."
Mitch rolled his eyes and looked at Harry as if to say "can you believe this guy?" To be entirely honest, there were days that Harry couldn’t. He didn’t think he’d ever met anyone more clueless than Mitch’s boyfriend Paul—though Mitch himself definitely came close.
All the same, Harry could imagine why Mitch kept the guy around. He’d seen the big jock’s thick, curved cock enough times to know that Mitch just couldn’t get enough of it, the slutty little fag.
"I’m talking about the election, silly!" said Mitch, moving his hand down from Paul’s arm to Paul’s thigh. "I’m scared the reds might come for my rights."
Considering how Mitch had gotten kicked out of his own house by his stepfather for being a closet-case, Harry could imagine why the jock had such a hard time dealing with the idea of any red party winning an election. The red party down south was the whole reason he had to move in with Harry and his parents, after all.
Harry was starting to reconsider keeping mum about the whole mix-up. It was more than a little mean-spirited to keep up the charade, as amusing as it was.
Just as Harry was about to say something, Paul put a hand on the back of Mitch’s head and said, "Don’t worry, babe! If they ever come for your rights I’ll fight them off!" Paul struck an exaggerated pose, his biceps bulging, because of course, he did. "Fuck, babe. I’m getting horny. Maybe sucking on my dong will help! Like a baby and its specifier."
"Oooh," said Mitch, his fingers climbing the inside of Paul’s thigh until they were cradling the frankly obscene outline of the thick piece of meat pressing up against the fabric. "That sounds like a great idea! Let’s try it!"
Just like that, Harry reconsidered saying anything, again. The things he had to deal with while his cousin was staying over… It was the worst. How was it fair that the guy who got kicked out of his house for being a closet-case got a boyfriend before he did?
"Jesus Christ," said Harry, as Mitch fished Paul’s schlong out of his shorts. "Go get a room, you guys." he muttered, under his breath.
The CBC had just called the election for a minority Liberal government. At the same time, Mitch was finishing up with probably his most faithful client.
The big guy Paul, cut like a block of granite, with broad shoulders washboard abs, and a thick curved cock that never failed to make Mitch squeal, had been staring at Harry throughout his session with the little fag.
If only Harry didn’t feel the need to have a partner who could carry, at the very least, a half-coherent conversation about current events, he would have gladly started dating Paul himself. Unfortunately, the big guy was about as dull as a sack of rocks, if not more, which made him a fantastic lay but not very stimulating in conversation.
Paul reached down beside him and picked up his gym shorts from the floor. He pulled out three wadded 100-dollar bills from his pocket and placed them on top of Mitch’s sweaty chest. He pulled his cock out of Mitch with a wet pop, replaced it with the jeweled metal buttplug that had been keeping a days’ worth of clients’ cum inside Mitch, and got up.
With a wink at Harry and a quick slap to Mitch’s ass, Paul said, "Alright. See you tomorrow, babes!" and left. Where he got the money, or how he had the confidence to carry around 300 dollars in cash was beyond Harry, and he wasn’t about to question it.
"Ready for me, bitchboy?" said Harry, placing his phone on the coffee table as he got up and walked toward Mitch, who was still on his back with his legs in the air on the couch.
After getting expelled from school and kicked out from his parents’ home for being too much of a cock-sucking slut, Mitch had gotten himself to Canada to stay with Harry and his parents until he got back on his feet.
Harry often wondered where Mitch got the money to get all the way up to Canada from Kentucky with only the clothes on his back, but he imagined it had something to do with what the little fag did best: whoring himself out.
As much as Harry hated the fact that his parents’ house had become a bit of a whorehouse thanks to Mitch’s attempts to make himself useful, and his parents’ insistence that it was okay as long as Mitch was contributing, Harry had to admit there were certain perks to having a dumbass, cock-hungry little faggot in the household.
Mitch, by virtue of being a groveling little cum-guzzler, helped Harry be more at ease with himself since he was at least a dignified gay man compared to his cousin. It was that little boost of confidence that had gotten him a date with a very handsome man who’d come in one day to fuck Mitch but had left with Harry’s number on his palm.
Right now, though, what Harry needed wasn’t romance. He needed a hole to get off in, and since his cousin had so generously offered his services for free to any family members who might need them, Harry didn’t feel like he was imposing too much to take Mitch up on the offer.
Mitch grunted as Harry slipped the butt plug out of his ass. The little faghole’s cunt was wrecked, puffy, and dripping with cum. It was such a filthy sight and it got Harry’s blood racing in his veins.
Without pretense or preamble—not that he needed any considering how much Mitch’s hole was eagerly gaping for more—Harry pushed his pants down his legs and shoved his cock as far up his cousin’s greedy little pussy as it could go. Mitch moaned as Harry bottomed out, the copious loads that had been viciously pounded into him providing the perfect lube for one last merciless rut.
Using his weight to pin Mitch’s legs down, Harry folded Mitch nearly in half over himself as he roughly pistoned his cock in and out of the sloppy cunt between Mitch’s muscular ass cheeks. God it felt so good to fuck the little whore that sometimes Harry could almost forget that he wanted more to life than just a dirty little cockhound to fuck.
Mitch’s pathetic little clit was straining in its stainless steel cage, cramped all day while his hole was mercilessly jackhammered by men who paid a premium to fuck the insatiable faghole between Mitch’s legs. The cage wasn’t even originally part of the package. Harry had installed it himself when he realized how much more of a degenerate whore Mitch turned into when denied an orgasm all day.
The cage was also a bit self-serving for Harry’s part as nothing quite felt like fucking the sloppy little faggot to a whole-body orgasm, the way that the loose, dripping hole feebly clenched around his cock always made him spew his thick, creamy load right into Mitch’s gaping fuckhole along with the rest.
Reaching up, Harry pulled the chain holding the key over his head and unlocked his cousin’s straining dick. It immediately sprang to full erection before he could even take the base ring off. It smacked Mitch’s flat stomach with a wet thwap and kept making the sound as Harry’s thrusts forced it to bounce.
Before long, Harry’s orgasm was approaching. He grunted, really pressing down on Mitch’s hole as he rode the edge. He leaned down to whisper in Mitch’s ear and said, "Guess what, fag? The reds won the election."
It wasn’t exactly accurate, but it had the desired effect. "N-N-Noo—!" Mitch screamed, the sound getting strangled halfway out his throat as Harry bore down on the fag bitch’s prostate and forced a shameful, humiliating orgasm out of him. Mitch gurgled, his eyes rolling back in his head as his freed cock sprayed cum all over his face, chest, and stomach.
In the meantime, Harry gripped his cousin’s hips tightly as Mitch’s loose hole clamped around the base of his dick in an attempt to milk him of every last drop of cum in his balls. He shuddered as powerful shots of cum blasted out of his cock to paint the whore’s insides white.
With a sigh, Harry pulled out, pushed the plug back in, and sat down. Beside him, Mitch’s face was buried in the cushions, his shoulders quietly trembling as he sniffled. "Oh my god. You’re such a fucking dumbass," said Harry, finally. He grabbed Mitch by the hair and pulled him off the couch cushion.
"Look at me," said Harry. Mitch reluctantly did as he was told, eyes watery with tears. "The reds won. The Liberals won. That’s a good thing for us. Maybe if you actually took a moment to look what color our parties are instead of just assuming it was the same as where you’re from you wouldn’t have spent this whole day scared out of your fucking wits unless your wits were getting fucked out of you."
"W-Wait, what?!" said Mitch, his legs unable to support him enough to let him follow Harry as the other got up off the couch. "Your liberals are red?"
"Yeah," said Harry, a small smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. "I literally just said that."
"But. But. But that’s just wrong," said Mitch. "A-And why didn’t you say anything?!"
Harry chuckled as he grabbed a beer from the fridge and walked back to the couch with his cock hanging out. He was still half-hard, giving him enough length to slap Mitch with his cock head. "Because I love seeing you suffer every now and then," he said. "Now open up, fag. Clean me up."
From the corner of the room, where no one could see him but those he wanted to see him, a Twink in Pink giggled to himself and said, "Wow, that was so much fun! Rednecks really are the best! I gotta go find myself another of those!"