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.
The full story, with nude photos, is on Tales of West Hollywood.