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“Gomer! That ain’t my belly button!”
I was on top of my completely naked and rather pretty 19-year old second cousin Katie, and under her Little Mermaid bedspread. Katie’s legs were spread wide, and my throbbing six and half inch cock was just touching the hairy and wet entrance to her vagina.
Was I really going to do it? Was I really going to fuck my second cousin? I was 21 compared to her 19, but sometimes it felt like the difference was more than that.
I looked at her beautiful face and flowing brown medium-length hair spread out over her pillow, which also had a picture of Ariel on it, and smiled. She smiled back in a sexy way, welcoming me. Except for the difference in hair color, she even looked a bit like Ariel.
In an attempt at a Gomer Pyle voice, I said: “Sur-prise! Sur-prise!”
I paused for a second, and then started very slowly pushing my cock into her cunt. Katie wasn’t a virgin, and she was already wet and warm, since I’d just gone down on her and made her come—but she was still tight.
I was looking right into her liquid brown eyes as I slowly slid my rock-hard penis deeper and deeper into her young pussy.
Katie’s eyes widened as she took me in, inch by inch. She looked as surprised as I felt.
It felt so good I couldn’t keep up my Gomer Pyle voice, and instead gasped and grunted a little as my cock was swallowed up by her tight twat:
My face must have looked funny in my ecstasy.
I was now all the way inside of Katie’s warm, wet, and firm vagina. I managed to say, gasping again, and with my faux Southern accent almost completely gone:
“That ain’t my finger either!”
“I can tell!” She said in her regular voice, which still had quite a bit of real Southern accent. Katie was still looking a little surprised as my cock throbbed inside of her, but happy.
“How long have you wanted to do that?” She added, breathing a bit heavily herself and smiling.
“For quite a while,” I said, and then started very slowly moving back and forth, fucking my second cousin, and watching with pleasure as her medium-sized breasts moved back and forth to the motion.
How did I get to this point, where I was doing so much more than kissing my “Kissing Cousin Katie”?
Let me back up and explain how I had the most sexually fulfilling week of my whole life more than twenty years ago, way down in Alabama.
First, let me say that I know it’s a cliche, but there’s something to the idea that going to the rural South is kind-of like going back in time. Although the story I’m going to tell took place in the summer of 1991, the small town we were in had a feeling almost like the 1970s. And there were strong webs of the past there stretching all the way back to the Civil War—or The War Between the States, as my Aunt Polly called it.
I had just graduated from an elite state university quite a bit to the North, a full day’s drive, but still really in the border South. Somehow the rest of my family had not really kept much in touch with this broken off Southern branch of the family line. But when I’d started college, my Mom had told me to look them up.
After first year I’d finally done it, more out of a sense of duty than of any pleasure. But it happened that I really liked my Aunt Polly and my Cousin Katie. They weren’t at all, I should say, trailer trash. In fact, by the standards of their little town they were almost part of the elite. But by the standards of a big city West Coast boy like me, their town was almost a desolate backwater, and their economic circumstances seemed meager.
But what they lacked in money and high culture, they more than made up for in genuine hospitality, good humor, wits, and warmth. They were themselves what Aunt Polly said when describing those whom she liked: “real good people.”
That summer of 1991, when I had finally graduated from college, I was feeling somewhat tired physically, emotionally, and even intellectually. I’d learned so much in my five years (yes, five), with my double majors in the Humanities that I was now realizing might be of limited use to me as I struggled to think about what I might do with the rest of my life.
For now, even though it was rather humbling, I was going to move back to parents’ house in Southern California and live with them for a year or two while I figured out what to do. I was probably going to get a job, any job, while studying for the GRE and then probably grad school—which, in fact, is what I ended up doing.
But having already gotten rid of or shipped off most of my college stuff, I was now treating myself, if you could call it that, to a cross country drive in the 1986 Accord my parents had handed down to me, sometimes staying in cheap hotels, and sometimes staying with friends or relatives along the way.
My second cousin Katie and Aunt Polly were my first stop. They lived a long day’s drive from my university, which is why when it came down to it I usually saw them just once a year. They lived female agent porno in small town in Alabama, that as I’ve already said seemed almost phased out of time compared to most of the rest of the country.
As I got close to their house, trying to make my way through their confusing back roads, with my Aunt’s detailed directions taped to my dash (navi systems were a sci fi fantasy at that point), I fondly remember the last time I’d seen them, last summer, when Katie was 18 and I was 20.
Katie was a slender lass with dirty-dishwater blond hair, and she’d flirted with me in an outrageous “we’re just cousins so it’s still safe” way. We had to share a bathroom, and when her Mom was at work the last day before I’d left she’d taken a shower, leaving the door open so, as she said, “the steam would let out,” which I noticed was not something she did when her Mom was home.
From the living room couch, as Katie must have known, I could see all the way into the bathroom—sort of, anyway, except for all of the steam. But I have to admit, I positioned myself on the couch pretending to read my New Yorker magazine I’d brought with me at the exact spot where I might be able to see her when she got out of the bath.
Finally, Katie turned off the water, which I could hear trickling down the drain, and could imagine trickling down her body—but darn that steam! Even with the bathroom door open there was still quite a bit of it. Suddenly with the sounds of the slightly rusty sliding-glass shower door being moved aside, one of Katie’s legs appeared in the billowing steam, pointed out almost like a ballerina,—perhaps intentionally? An aesthetic effect for me?
I wondered about that as the rest of Katie, more or less, came into view in the misty air. My first shock was seeing her cunt for the first time, which was covered in a triangle of wet hair just a little darker than the hair on her head. Her breasts were small and pointy, almost strawberry-like areolas and nipples. She stood with her legs slightly apart, slowly drying her face, I was almost certain so that I could get a good view while keeping up the pretense that I couldn’t see her since she couldn’t see me. I kept my magazine held up close to my face so that if she looked I could pretend I was just reading.
But she kept her towel up to her face as she then turned around, and then bent over low down to slowly dry her legs. Oh my god. With her legs spread as she bent over her cunt lips were visible even from here through her fur, in between the rounded globes of her lovely ass. My cock swelled in my brown corduroys to full length. I was trembling.
As she finally finished the thorough and slow drying of her legs and feet, she slowly stood up and started turning around, seemingly giving me plenty of time to hide my face behind my New Yorker, which I did. I tried to concentrate on the story and the car ads, but I kept thinking of Katie’s cunt that I’d just seen.
“Well, how long have you been sitting out here?” Katie said in her sweet Southern accent, as if surprised to see me.
I put down the magazine and saw Katie with her tangled wet hair, and with the towel now around her that just barely covered her breasts and pussy.
“Well? Did you enjoy the view?”
I blushed and decided not to lie entirely.
“Well the steam was pretty thick, and part of the time I was reading my magazine, but…yeah.”
“You perv! I knew it!” She said smiling, and then walked over to me in a cat-like way, setting her steamy self down right next to me.
“Oh, your view is good from here! I bet you saw it all. Fess up!,” she said, gently pulling my hair as punishment to make me confess.
“Ouch! You left the door wide open! What do you expect a guy to do!”
“Get a pervy peek, I guess. So what did you think of what’s you saw? Probably nothing compared to those women at your big university! Tell me now, or else I’ll pull your hair out! And then she tugged harder on my hair before I even had a chance to talk.
“Ouch! Stop! You’re very pretty, Katie.”
“Ohh! What’s that in your pants?” She suddenly said, looking down at the noticeable hot dog angled a little to the left in my cords, which chose that moment to twitch as my boner flexed.
“You weirdo!” Was all I could think to say as I blushed and put my magazine down over my lap to hide my throbbing erection. But it twitched again, moving the magazine.
“Jeee-suuus! Lookit that thing move. Sure does want to get out. I bet I know what your Willie wants to do—you perv!”
“I’m sorry Katie,” I said with shame, although she seemed much more happy than annoyed, “I shouldn’t have sat here.”
“That’s alright, darlin’. We’re only second cousins, which means kissin’ cousins. And so I take it as a big complement.” She looked me in the eyes and fluttered her lashes theatrically, the heat and steam from the bath radiating off of her, along with her sex appeal. She then got up and got dressed, and nothing more happened gizli cekim porno that visit…
That was the memory I had of a year ago that was giving me a hard-on again as I pulled into the driveway of their modest house, which was on the outskirts of their small town. The somewhat run-down single-story clapboard house was by itself, and almost surrounded by overgrowth that looked almost like a jungle.
Cousin Katie, dressed casually in cut-off jeans and a t-shirt, was sitting next to Aunt Polly, who was in a loose summer dress. They were sipping “Sweet Iced Tea,” although the way they said it sounded like “Sweet-Assed Tea.”
And both of their asses were sweet, I thought to myself as they waved and smiled and I got out of the car. Katie’s was a tight and firm sweet ass, while Polly’s was larger and more curvy.
“Well, there you are darlin!” Aunt Polly said as she grinned and hugged me. I tried to keep my crotch from touching her, since I still had an almost complete boner in my shorts, “You’re lookin’ handsomer than ever—Ain’t he, Katie!”
“Mmmm-mmmmh!” Katie said, looking me up and down, “You’re right about that, Ma.”
“You hush!” Aunt Polly said, half-annoyed, “you’re supposed to make him feel welcome, not to make him blush!”
And I was blushing a little, but went over to hug Katie, who was looking hot as can be, both temperature-wise in the humid heat, but also in terms of sex appeal. Unfortunately she was wearing a bra, but still as she hugged me close I could feel her pert breasts press against me, causing my dick to twitch—which Katie seemed to feel as she hugged me close, with our crotches touching, because she raised her eyebrows as if in surprise as we separated, and looked down to see if she could see the straining bulge she’d just felt wiggle against her.
“Would like like some Sweet-Assed tea?” Aunt Polly asked, “Because it’s hotter than the hand-hammered hinges of Hades out here!” They sometimes talked in an exaggerated “Southern” way with colorful phrases, seemingly on purpose for me.
“Sure!” I said, finally getting out my first word.
The rest of the night we spent mostly indoors, in the air conditioning, eating Aunt Polly’s feast. She’d roasted a chicken, and she made a big deal about how good I was as carving it, and how nice it was to have a man around. Aunt Polly asked me about how college was going, and my plans, and gave a running commentary. I talked briefly about the painful breakup with my girlfriend a few weeks ago (“how could she let a man like you get away?”), my plan to get a job and live with my parents (“What a common sense idea”), and then my plans to study for the GRE and go to grad school (“You were always ambitious, Ben, I know you’ll make us proud.”).
Katie mostly listened and rolled her eyes at the things her Mom said, but she also ate her chicken in a sexy way with her hands, putting chunks of meat into her mouth, and then licking her fingers and her lips in a way that was mesmerizing. She saw me looking, and seemed to get even more sexual in her eating as she saw that she had most of my attention, even though I was talking with Polly.
I then asked them questions about their lives. Polly, as she played with her dyed-black hair, told me she still had her hair salon downtown, and business was good enough, but the town seemed to be slowly shrinking as people went away to bigger cities for jobs and for colleges. Polly told me about her life and her town in a funny, perceptive, and yet somehow slightly flirty way as she looked into my eyes and twirled her hair. She now had gotten my attention off of Katie.
Polly was Catholic, but she wore it lightly most of the time. But there was something about her that was deeply sympathetic, some of which seemed to come from her faith. She knew about sin, suffering, and salvation first hand, and so felt for other people. Her husband, Katie’s father, had left her many years ago, and then had died under mysterious circumstances. As far as I knew she’d been alone ever since, although she radiated a slightly flirtatious sensuality that made me think that in her early 40s her drives were still very much alive.
Finally, she said, “Oh, I’m just goin’ on and on, and I bet you want to hear from pretty Katie, not some old lady like me!”
“Ma!” Katie said in protest.
“Well, you are pretty. And it’s just a fact of nature that young men like to look at pretty young things.”
“You’re both beautiful!” I said, honestly, “And I love talking with both of you.”
They both looked pleased and pretty as I said that, and then Katie told me a little about her life, although she didn’t go on nearly as long as Polly.
Katie said her first year of at the University of Alabama had been good but tiring. She’d gotten good grades, and had a boyfriend, but it was nice to be home for the summer.
I flinched a little with jealously as I heard about the boyfriend that Polly said “Was a handsome little devil from the pictures,” glory hole secrets porno but Polly also added that she wasn’t sure that he “always treated Katie like a princess.”
Soon we were having vanilla ice cream and homemade apple pie, which was more delicious than I even remembered from last time.
Polly laughed with pleasure as I accepted a big sloppy second slice of her pie, “You always did like my pie! I’m glad you’re not shy about it. We’d put some meat on your bones in just a few weeks if you could stay with us longer, you skinny thing!”
“Maybe I will stay a little longer, if you can put up with me!”
Big smiles from both of them, seemingly genuinely eager for a few more days with me.
“Oh, and I almost forgot!,” I said, continuing with another tradition from my visits, “I’ve got presents for you out in the car.”
They could barely disguise their looks of almost greed. Because I always splurged at a good department store for nice presents for them when I visited, and also shipped stuff to them for Christmas and birthdays too. I went out to the car to get their gifts. Part of the weird dynamic of our relationship is that I was the “rich” relative. We weren’t rich, but compared to them my family did have a lot of money, and I’m almost ashamed to say that my grandparents regularly gave me big checks that kept my back account healthy.
And I knew Polly and Kati’es tastes in clothes, more or less, and knew their sizes exactly—Polly was an 18, while Katie was a 14. My local upscale department store had sales ladies who would really help you out a lot. In fact, if you told them you wanted to spend $150 on a nice dress for this person in this size who likes these colors, and $75 on a nice nightgown, they would select it for you.
The clothes could always could be exchanged or refunded if it didn’t work out. But at this point the saleslady I usually worked with was batting near 1000 for me, not just with them, but previously and much more often for my now ex-girlfriend. Anyway, I had phoned and told her I wanted elegant dresses and slinky nighties. She asked how slinky, and for Polly I said a bit less, and for Katie a bit more. She asked me to describe Katie a bit to her, and I did, with my enthusiasm for her beautiful face and luscious body coming through, I ‘m sure. I had picked up the wrapped presents at customer service as my last stop on the way out of town.
They opened the dresses first, and both were thrilled with the beautiful colors and cuts of the old-fashioned, high quality dresses, that also had dashes of sex appeal. My saleslady had done well, although I have to admit I acted as if I’d picked them out myself with just some help. They hugged me in thanks, which was very nice.
The nightie for Polly, a silky blue one I saw as she held it up, was also popular. Katie looked at hers, but then gave me a weird look—half-awestruck and half-annoyed it looked like—and said it was nice, but then quickly put it away without getting it out or showing it off.
After that I insisted on doing all the dishes, and it was a bit of a battle for them to let me do it, but it was a battle I’d won before, and so I knew how to do it and let them rest after all the work they’d gone to making the feast for me.
Once the dishes were done, and we were sitting on the couch, I could see that Polly’s eyes were at half mast. I mentioned that she looked tired, and she said,
“You’re right. I’m bushed!”
“Well, darlin’,” Polly said, getting up and coming over to me, “Give me a kiss.”
I kissed her on the cheek, and she did the same for me,, and then Polly toddled off to her bedroom, shutting the door.
“Why don’t you change in the bedroom,” Katie said with a smile, “and I’ll change in the bathroom.” She raised her eyebrows as if sharing a secret with me, but I wasn’t sure quite what she meant. She picked up her boxes and went into the bathroom.
I went into the bedroom, locked the door, and changed into my plaid cotton PJs. My dick was a semi, and so even though I liked to sleep without underwear for comfort, I realized I’d better wear them for now to prevent my cock from making a tent until we actually went to bed.
Suddenly I heard Katie try to open the knob to her own door.
“Sorry,” I said, unlocking and opening the door and smiling.
Katie was wearing a robe, and she sauntered in with a hard-to-describe expression.
She spun around the cord to her robe, looked at me in a way that was somehow sultry also mildly annoyed and said:
“Well, I know what you want tonight.”
I was genuinely puzzled, and my face must have shown it.
“What? A good night’s sleep?”
“Riiiiight!” she said, heavy with irony, as if I’d said something racy.
“What are you talking about?” I said, not just puzzled but a little upset at this point.
“The ‘nightie’ you gave me, of course,” she said, adding, “you little devil!”
“Oh that,” I said, beginning to understand.
She then said in a pretend innocent voice, “Do you want to see it?”
“Yeah,” I said.
“OK,” she said, slipping off her robe, which dropped to the ground, “there you go.”
As I looked up at her I saw why she thought I’d made a pass at her with this gift, because the flimsy nightie was almost entirely see-through.
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