Two years later, I was living in Phoenix, and had the good fortune of
not only still dating Jenna, but of having her living only a mile or two
away. She had moved the year before and taken a nursing job downtown.
We'd been so busy setting up a life in Arizona that we had rarely gotten
to the coast to see family.
This Christmas, though, we'd resolved to get there. Neither of us had
forgotten the adventure at the Excalibur in Vegas, and Jenna had
actually kept the pink panties belonging to my cousin (needless to say,
we had made use of them on a few other occasions as well). Whether she
had told Denise that she had taken them she wouldn't say.
To my delight, Denise suggested we stay at her new condo near the beach,
which, due to her new advertising job, was way more room than she could
use. My cousin was single once again. Mike was a distant memory, and
there had been a few others in between. She explained to us that she was
just incredibly picky, and probably not easy to date. She'd been the
"leaver" each time. 'Well, of, course', I thought. 'No man in his right
mind would choose to break up with her.' I was jealous of the guys who
got to have her for even one night.
We were installed in her spare bedroom downstairs on the afternoon of
Christmas Eve, with the rest of the family staying at other houses or in
a hotel. It was an "upside-down" condo, with the kitchen and living
areas on the top floor, and all of the bedrooms downstairs. Denise's
room was right next door to ours.
Jenna came to bed that night in a special outfit I had never seen
before: a red lace bustier with matching thong and sheer red stockings
-- perfect for the holidays, right? I never got it all completely off
her, but as I was sliding in and out of her soft wet lips from behind,
she kept whispering to me over her shoulder about how my cousin was just
on the other side of the wall, and how much she'd like to invite her
over and dine on her pussy while I watched. I silently gave another
shout out to the almighty for allowing me to have this exquisitely
perverted creature for a girlfriend.
I had asked her several times if she and my cousin, who'd been friends
for a while, had ever hooked up, and if not, why the hell not? Her
response was usually just a sly smile, an explanation that Denise was
not that kind of girl, and a simple, " Don't worry, honey. If it
happens, you'll be the first to know."
When once I probed further, she just said, "Trust me, Thom. I know this
girl. There are lots of things that would have to happen for her to ever
even consider it. First off, she's really only into guys, and if I were
to try something at the wrong time it would ruin any chance -- for all
time."
"So why don't you try getting her a little tipsy?"
She shook her head slowly, her curly black hair bouncing back and forth.
"Alcohol doesn't work on Denise, darling. She gets sleepy and passes
out after 2 or 3 drinks."
I grinned. "Hmmm.... I'm imagining Denise passed out on a couch. The perfect opportunity for us."
"For us? Why you sick and twisted little wacko.... It's bad enough to
lust after your first cousin without wanting to molest the poor girl in
her sleep." She paused. "Now, for me to be in that situation, however,
not so bad...Hmmmm...."
She did the thing that always drove me nuts, biting her lower lip and
drawing her eyes upward as if contemplating a truly naughty scenario. I
always felt like jumping her when she did that. And, of course, at all
other times as well.
The memory of that conversation faded quickly as I pulled out and shot a
very sticky load of cum onto Jenna's lower back. She moaned softly and
rolled over, falling quickly asleep, as evidenced by the deep rise and
fall of her delicate breasts.
As for me, I couldn't sleep at all, thinking of Denise in the next room,
so at the risk of Santa Claus passing me over, I got up, put on boxers
and a T-shirt, and crept slowly upstairs to the living room.
One thing I'll say for my cousin: she had great taste in decorating. The
marble-floored living room featured two amazingly comfortable white
couches, a huge fluffy white rug, a large glass coffee table, and a wall
mounted 48 inch LCD TV. This was also the site of the newly decorated
and twinkling Christmas tree, which only added to the cozy atmosphere.
I curled up on the bigger of the two couches and found a replay of the
Laker game in HD. It was a blowout, but I held out hope that my Suns
might come back, so on I watched. I had just started to doze when I
heard a whisper from the top of the staircase. "Thom? What are you doing
up here?"
I glanced up sleepily and there was my cousin, a vision in thin,
loose-fitting pajama pants and a lacy white tank top. She shuffled into
the room, yawning.
"Couldn't sleep," I answered. "You too, I guess."
"Yeah, I'm not sure why, either. Probably has something to do with the dinner for 12 people I'm hosting here tomorrow, huh?"
I was thinking how absolutely unfair it was, the way her fantastically
globe-shaped tits pushed that tank top out, the ample bronzed cleavage
inviting a head-first dive. It wasn't just that Jenna didn't have much
in that department. I didn't miss it at all with her. It was more that
these full, natural tits were such an integral part of the womanly
curves that made Denise so mysteriously sexy. She had so much trouble
with relationships that she seemed almost uncomfortable in this amazing
body. One got the impression that the depths of her sexuality hadn't
been successfully tapped into by anyone yet.
"You're welcome to watch the game with me," I offered, motioning her to
the couch. She slid onto the smaller one, which sat at a 90-degree angle
to the one I was on.
"The game?" she said, clearly unimpressed. "You know, I have like 50 movie channels."
"Really? Free?"
"Yep. I think they start on channel 500 or something."
I flipped through a few movie channels -- League of Their Own,
Jaws-something, one of the Lethal Weapon flicks that always seemed to be
on, and then -- flash -- there it was: a medium shot of a naked couple
banging away on a pool table.
"Whoa," I said, lingering on this channel quite a bit longer than the
others. I looked over at Denise, who was giving me one of those stern,
motherly "you know better than this" looks under her brow. This was
roughly the same look she had given me when she walked in on me looking
through her father's girlie magazines a few years back.
It was one of those late night "Skinamax" movies -- not hardcore, but
certainly more so than the stuff I remembered as a teenager. The guy was
lying on his back on top of the pool table, with a well-tanned and
toned fake-titted blonde riding him cowgirl style.
I knew I would probably have to change the channel, but I decided to see just how long I could get Denise to watch this.
"Now that's one bad boob job," I chuckled.
Denise looked at me. "You're not really going to watch this, are you Thom?"
"C'mon, Cuz. You're telling me you have all these channels and you've never checked this stuff out?"
The girl on the screen had shifted around to reverse cowgirl. Slow
motion close-ups of faces writhing in imitation pleasure followed.
"Ah, no, actually I don't watch this stuff at all," she said. "I didn't even know I got channels like this."
Close-up of the guys face as he faked a climax. No guy has ever been
that expressive while cumming, I would argue. Cut to a morning view of a
swimming pool behind an expensive house.
"Watch this," I told Denise. "The dialogue scenes are the best parts of
these movies. The bad acting has to be seen to be believed."
I turned up the volume a bit. An obviously rich middle-aged woman was
talking on the phone while sitting on a lounge chair by her pool. She
wasn't leaving nearly enough time for someone to answer on the other
end, and the emotion it looked like she was shooting for, genuine anger,
was coming across more like cartoon anger.
"See what I mean?" I asked Denise.
"I see. Anything else on?"
"Just wait a sec," I answered.
A young brunette with long straight hair in a ponytail and wearing a
blue bikini had appeared in the scene. She was apparently about to
become the rich lady's daughter in-law, and was getting an earful about
how she should treat her soon to be husband. This bit of thespian-ism
was so bad that it even got a titter out of Denise at several points.
Sure enough, the lecture began to turn into a hands-on lesson, and the
older woman stood up, letting her robe glide to the ground. Completely
naked underneath, she began to show the young girl how to French kiss
while helping her out of her bikini top.
I was beginning to be thankful that I was under a blanket at this point,
as I had been absentmindedly rubbing the front of my boxers, underneath
which something was starting to respond.
As for Denise, she shifted onto her right side, facing away from me, then grabbed another blanket and spread it over herself.
"It's cold up here," she mumbled.
'Hmmm,' I thought. 'Not really.'
"Just like I said," Denise continued. "Bo-ring. Might as well leave it
on now, though. It may be the only thing that'll put me to sleep
tonight."
Her left eye, the only one I could see, slowly closed, and as I
alternated my gaze between my cousin and the TV, her breathing seemed to
slow down and deepen, her torso rising and falling under the blanket.
On the screen, the rich blonde lady was lying back onto the lounge
again, ordering the young girl, who still had her bikini bottoms on, to
kiss and suck the erect nipples atop her large silicone breasts. The
brunette was less well endowed, but at least those appeared to be real.
I cautiously slid my hand under my shorts and grasped my exceedingly
grateful erection. My hand was ice cold, in sharp contrast to the
burning hot skin of my cock, and the combination was exhilarating.
I stole another look over at Denise. The eye was still closed. I decided
what the heck, and pulled by hard-on out of my shorts, sliding them
down a few inches, and still under the concealment of the blanket.
The brunette had reached crotch level at this point, and was licking for
all she was worth, kneeling on the poolside concrete. At least I
assumed she was licking; they wouldn't show her mouth in the close-ups,
but her ponytail was sure swinging around a lot, bouncing off the
blonde's inner thighs. As the camera panned back, the girl's
bikini-covered ass filled the screen, and her hands moved up to the side
straps and slid the blue fabric down off of her hips.
Apparently this channel had no problem with bare pussy. The sight of
first the dark shadow of her anus and then the neatly shaved lips of her
wet mound got me stroking in earnest. The blanket had started to slide
down, until I had knocked it completely off. I now sat there with cock
in hand, totally exposed, and I didn't care.
That is, until another glance at Denise sent a bolt of panic though my
gut. Her left eye was half open; thankfully not looking at me, but at
the television.
It was then I noticed something I had missed before: her feet, covered
in white ankle socks and sticking out from under the blanket, were
moving ever so slightly back and forth. In addition, the slow rise and
fall that I had assumed was her breathing was actually her left arm
moving back and forth under the blanket.
Well! Not so boring after all, eh?
I fought off the initial instinct to cover myself and just kept going, my eyes on the TV as if I thought Denise was asleep.
The brunette, who I had decided was hot, had stood up and straddled the
lounge chair, and had lowered her crotch down on the blonde's face, and
was presumably being eaten out as she stood there. Our view was mostly
from behind.
I had just begun to wish I had a few drops of Astroglide when a welcome
drop of pre-cum arrived to help moisten the motion, so to speak. The
fluid and the rapid combustion of flesh on flesh must have made a small
noise, because Denise suddenly turned toward me. I caught the movement
out of the corner of my eye, and quickly shut both eyes as if I was
involved in my own inner fantasy and no longer needed the TV. I feared
Denise's reaction if she thought I knew she was awake and had jacked off
in front of her.
Within a few seconds I assumed I would hear a gasp, a yell, or at least
the sound of her getting up off the couch and leaving, but it never
came. I heard nothing, in fact.
Oh God.
That meant she just watching me; the girl of my dreams, five feet away,
watching me stroke my cock and most likely fondling her pussy at the
same time.
I didn't think it was possible, but my erection actually got harder,
until it felt like I was stroking a solid steel pole. My legs were
slightly apart, so she must have had full view of my shaft from tip to
base as well as my ever-tightening balls.
Faintly, over the moans coming from the TV, I heard a rustling noise
from where Denise was sitting, but no footsteps. I desperately wanted to
open my eyes and see what see was up to, but I was still afraid I'd
ruin the whole thing if she knew I could see her. She might still get up
and leave the room.
The cries of passion and pleasure from the movie were getting louder and
more intense, and I was getting close to exploding myself.
'Now or never," I thought. I had to see what was going on.
I opened my left eye just a crack. Maybe she wouldn't notice that much.
After the initial blurriness, what I saw almost made me jet my load
right then. My cousin had shed the blanket completely and was sitting on
the couch with her knees bent up to her chest, her feet flat on top of
the couch. Her pajama pants had been pulled down, or up in this case, to
her thighs, and she was moving two fingers up and down her bare slit
while staring intently at the two writhing forms on the screen. I risked
opening both eyes, just as she shifted her gaze to my swollen member
being piston pumped by my left hand.
So there we were, both masturbating like fiends as the two women on the screen ate each other's muffs in a 69 position.
What happened next happened quickly and in a well-remembered order.
First I saw Denise bite her lower lip, hard. Then her hand went to her
mouth and she wet the two fingers with her saliva. With her hand out of
the way I caught the briefest glimpse of wispy thin black pubic hair and
wet pink labia before her hand covered her mound again and she inserted
both fingers into her pussy.
The second event was the huge and insistent wave of ecstasy that
suddenly swept through me, causing me to cum like a long-sleeping
geyser, even though it was the second time in just over an hour. A few
jets landed on the glass coffee table in front of me and the rest fell
on my shirt or dribbled down between my fingers.
After witnessing this, it was Denise's turn, as her whole body seemed to
tense and then shudder, her finger thrusting slowing down and becoming
more rhythmic. My cousin getting herself off was such a beautiful sight
that I found my gaze drifting from the action between her legs to her
angelic face, more relaxed and yet more expressive than I'd seen in
years. Her forehead alternately creased and smoothed, her lips parted
and closed, moistened by her tongue.
Then the most peculiar thing happened, which I didn't realize at the
time would actually set the stage for the entire next phase of my
relationship with my cousin. Just as her body was giving in and she was
cumming around her fingers in a rush of erotic chaos, she opened her
soft brown eyes, closed them once, and opened them again, this time
looking directly at me. In those eyes I saw more than pleasure, more
than surprise or fatigue; there was a yearning there, and a silent
understanding seemed to pass between us, the meaning of which would take
years for us both to fully grasp.
As I sat there in the glow of the twinkling Christmas lights, my sticky
cock still in my hand and still hard as a rock, Denise silently pulled
up her pajama bottoms, re-covered herself with the blanket, and rolled
over, falling almost instantly asleep.
My cun-addled brain tried in vain to process what had just occurred, but several thoughts went on replay:
One, I had just seen my gorgeous cousin naked from the waist down for
the first time since we were maybe 2 or 3 years old in the bathtub (my
mom still had the video and embarrassed us with it at the occasional
family gathering).
Two, the two of us had just mutually masturbated in front of each other,
an activity that I was almost positive we'd never be able to talk
about, even alone.
And three, this was quite possibly the best Christmas ever, and it wasn't even Christmas morning yet.
There was no thought of waking her or any further "activity", so I crept
back down the stairs to the room where Jenna was still asleep and
crawled in next to her.
"Thom?" she said in a delirium.
"Yeah."
"Were you watching porn up there or something? I thought I heard sex."
"It was just a late night soft core thing, J. Go back to sleep and I'll tell you about it in the morning."
Would I though? Could I tell her the whole story or would she get jealous, mostly because she hadn't been there?
One thing I certainly could and would bring up to her, when the time was
right, was the knowledge that my cousin was greatly and secretly turned
on by girl on girl porn. Jenna would be thrilled to hear that. Just how
I learned that juicy bit of data might have to remain a secret for now.
To Be Continued...
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