The day after my interlude with my cousin Denise's wet bathing suit, I
woke up with my usual teenage morning hard-on, the one that couldn't
have been cut with a ginsu knife. The knowledge that I was in the guest
bedroom across the hall from my gorgeous 18-year-old cousin gave it an
extra bit of steel belting. This time I was unable to satisfy myself,
though, as I was roused out of bed by my mother, informing me that
everyone was going shopping for three hours and that if I didn't want to
go I could sleep in. Well, that was nice, except that now I was up.
I stumbled out of the room and into the bathroom, noting that the bikini
was still where I had left it on the edge of the hamper. I thought
about snatching it up and repeating yesterday's experience, but I heard a
noise which stopped me. Sounded like someone moving around in another
room. I had heard everyone leave a few minutes before, so that was odd.
I opened the door and moved into the hallway. Denise's door was closed.
Then I heard it again: a dresser drawer closing, coming from her room.
Hmmm. Alone in the house with Denise. My heart leapt and that feeling of
excitement filled my gut once again. I went over to the door and
knocked softly.
"Hello?"
"Hey, Thom," said the voice on the other side of the door.
"Can I come in?" I asked.
"Uh, give me a second. I'm in my tennis underwear."
Oh, Lord. Why did she have to tell me that?
I had forgotten that she had a tennis lesson this morning. A few seconds
later she popped out into the hallway wearing the prerequisite white
tennis skirt and white polo shirt. I suppose I needn't mention that she
looking stunning in both, and that the skirt set off her tanned legs
fantastically. The shirt was tight, and there was just a hint of
cleavage where the three buttons lined the top V-neck. The whole scene
was automatically filed away in my future fantasies under "T" for
Tennis.
"I guess you didn't want to go shopping," she said.
"Of course not," I answered.
"What are you gonna do?"
"Dunno. Probably watch TV or something."
"Okay, well, I've gotta go or I'll be late. I'll be back by noon," and she bounded down the stairs and was gone.
I wandered down stairs and toasted a few waffles, bringing them into the
small dining nook and sitting down at the table. A large and cumbersome
bookshelf covered one whole wall, and was stacked with books and
magazines. It had always been like that, and I'd never taken much notice
of it. Now I got up and began to file through some of the magazines:
National Geographic, Boating, Tennis, the usual stuff. And what was
this? Penthouse?
Indeed it was. Not just one issue, but a dozen, scattered in amongst the
others. I couldn't believe the find. This was several years before the
internet, so a "nice" boy who was also a bit shy didn't have too many
resources for getting his hands on a girlie magazine. I wasn't quite up
to asking for one at the local 7-Eleven just yet. I had seen Playboy at
my friend's houses in high school, but had little experience with any of
the harder-core stuff. The fact that my uncle (I was assuming it was
his) kept this stuff just lying around in the kitchen was surprising. I
guess my aunt didn't mind. I wondered if Denise had seen these. How
could she have avoided seeing them? I had a brief image of Denise
rubbing herself all over while looking at one of the pictorials. Wow,
that was a good one.
I had a good 2 and a half hours to kill, so I stacked a few copies of
Penthouse on the table and started going through them. Like Playboy,
there were lots of articles, and knowing my uncle, that's probably why
he had a subscription. Lots of stuff for "the sophisticated man of good
taste". Oh, and of course, spread-eagle shots of naked women. I'll never
figure that one out.
For me, someone who did not consider himself a man of good taste
necessarily, it was great. Along with the usual centerfolds, there were
pictorials with two women, and even a few couples. No actual
penetration, but they got close enough, and I suppose the idea was that
the guy was about to put it in or had just taken it out.
So there I sat, rubbing my extremely rigid cock through my boxer shorts,
sitting at the kitchen table, when a footstep on the front patio right
outside the window behind me sent a shock of electricity through my
body. I turned and, through the half open vertical blinds, saw Denise
with her keys in her hand. I was positive that for a brief instant she
saw exactly what I was doing, though not what I was looking at. I
quickly slid the newspaper over the magazine and sat up straight in my
chair as she came through the front door. She stopped in the entry and
looked at me with an out of breath but amused look on her face.
"What are you up to?" she asked.
"Nothing," I said, my voice shaking a little I'm sure. "Just, ah, reading the paper and stuff."
"And something else, too?" She was looking at the stack of Penthouse magazines, which I had left completely out in the open.
"Oh, yeah. Those are kind of interesting. Believe it or not, there are some really good articles in there."
"I'm sure," she said, rolling her eyes a bit. "I just came back for my checkbook. I have to pay my teacher today."
She turned and ran upstairs.
How embarrassing was that? I had never gotten caught masturbating
before, and certainly it couldn't get worse than being caught by my
cousin, a girl I thought was not only hot and someone who's opinion of
me I cared deeply about, but also someone who might tell my mother or
the entire rest of my family what she had seen. Probably not, but who
knew?
She came rushing back down the stairs with her checkbook a few seconds later, and I hadn't moved.
"Okay, Thom, I'll be back," she said in a singsong voice. "Don't have
too much fun." That last was said with a slight shake of her head,
though she sounded more amused than disappointed. I watched her cross
the patio and hop down the stairs into the parking garage, the short
white skirt bouncing up and down over that sculpted ass.
Now, as shamed as I was, I've never been one to quit while I'm ahead,
and watching her leave had given me an idea. The house was empty, her
bedroom was right upstairs, and in that bedroom were all of her clothes,
including the rest of her bathing suits and...her...underwear. Why
hadn't this occurred to me before?
I put away the magazines where I thought I had found each of them and
check to make sure the front door was locked. I'd need all the warning I
could get for what I was about to do. My cock still erect and pulsating
in my shorts, I climbed the carpeted stairs and found Denise's bedroom
door closed again - but not locked. I gently pushed the door open and
was greeted with the most wonderful smell I could imagine. A teenage
girl's bedroom: traces of fruity perfume and promising hints of more
earthy scents. Denise was fairly neat and clean, compared to some of my
friends' sisters, and everything seemed to have a place. Pink was in
evidence nearly everywhere, from the comforter on the bed to the dresser
to the color of the desk. The dresser was my goal, so I went over and
did some sleuthing. I was becoming an expert at this by now, I thought,
so I made a mental note of everything: how far open the drawers already
were, any indentations my shoes had made in the carpet, etc. Where might
someone keep things like panties? Top drawer or bottom drawer, I said
to myself. I eased open the top drawer slowly. Bingo...
To Be Continued...
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