____________________________
| |
/)| KRISTEN'S BOOKSHELF |(\
/ )| DIRECTORIES |( \
__( (|____________________________|) )__
((( \ \ > /_) ( \ < / / )))
(\\\ \ \_/ / \ \_/ / ///)
\ / \ /
\ _/ \_ /
/ / \ \
o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o
o o
o The Bookshelf Directories offer a very wide variety of stories. o
o They have been submitted by people from all over the world. Also o
o from alt.sex.stories (Newsgroups). There is no particular order o
o other than offering them to you in alphabetical directories. o
o o
o All works are copyrighted to the author and may not be used for o
o profit without obtaining the author's permission in advance. o
o o
o Lest we forget!!! This story was produced as adult entertainment o
o and should not be read by minors. o
o o
o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o
My Cousin Michelle (mf-teens, inc)
by Danny (danny387@aol.com)
(c) 1994
This is a true story, more or less. It's a long story, too, and there
isn't that much sex in it. If you're looking for something to beat off
to, I'd suggest you move on to the next file. But if you're looking for
something involving real people and real feelings, read on. I wrote this
story for a reason, and it took me a long time to get this down on paper
(so to speak). I've changed the names, but not much else.
I will be the first to admit that my family is fucked up. I don't
just mean my parents. I mean the whole goddamned brood: parents,
grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins to the umpteenth degree. I
grew up in a very small town in the South, about 1500 people the last
time I checked. My family makes up about 100 of that, give or take a
few. Of the adults, I'd say about half are alcoholics or drug addicts, a
handful are in prison (with a not insignificant number having spent a
few days in the county jail on occasion--usually for DUI or public
intoxication), three are in the state mental hospital, and most have
difficulty holding a steady job. You could count on one hand the
number of them that even went to college, much less graduated
(although I'm one), and a fair amount never graduated from high
school. A few of the older members of my family (like my grandma)
never even went to high school. Of the kids, most are well on their
way to meeting the high standards of the family. Only a few--again,
myself included--have had the sense to get out.
My parents were first cousins who married--pregnant with me--
at seventeen. I didn't see anything wrong with this as a kid, partly
because of the way kids take everything at face value, but also because
I knew at least one other guy whose parents were cousins. So it wasn't
until I was a teenager that I began to realize how screwed up things
were.
Was I somehow above all this crap? I wouldn't be writing this
story if I were. I lost my virginity to one of my cousins, and ended up
deflowering another one. I'm going to recap the first incident briefly,
but it's the second that's the reason I wrote this story.
If I sound cavalier about my family, it's only out of disgust. I
moved out several years ago to go to school, and have tried to avoid
contact with them as much as possible. It just hasn't worked out quite
the way I would like.
My parents both died my freshman year in college. My dad
threw back a few too many down at Eddie's Blue Light Tavern and
drove into a tree on the way home. My mother drank herself into an
alcoholic coma within six months and never came out. It's kind of hard
to get feelings like that out coherently, but I think you get the idea.
When I was thirteen, my parents were already full-blown
alcoholics. They drank plenty at home, but on the weekends they liked
to go out and close down Eddie's, which is the only bar in town. I'm
an only child, by the way--alone almost among the entire family. My
mother had an especially difficult delivery with me and ended up
needing a hysterectomy. So when my parents went out, one of my
many cousins would come over and babysit.
That year, it was my cousin Kristen. She was seventeen, a
senior in high school, and according to my friends, ran around quite a
bit. But she needed the money, so she was willing to give up some
weekend nights to babysit. For that, I was eternally grateful. Kristen
had long blonde hair and blue eyes, and I had been secretly in love with
her for a while.
This happened about ten years ago, so it's hard to be exact
about what happened. I've written down what I remember and filled in
the rest with stuff that might not have happened quite the way I've got
it but comes close anyway.
That night Kristen started teasing me about what little I knew
about sex. I told her that I knew everything because my friend Jimmy
had been telling me what his sister was always doing. He liked to hide
in her closet when her boyfriend came over and would give me all the
embellished details the next day. (One of those boyfriends would
eventually discover him and beat the crap out of him, but that's beyond
the scope of this story.)
Kristen just laughed at me.
"That's nothing. I bet you never even kissed a girl."
"I kissed Angie. A couple times." Angie was a girl who lived
down the street. Of course, this had happened when we were both nine.
"Yeah? Well I bet you've never seen a girl's tits before."
"I have too. Jimmy's got a big stack of Playboys. I saw 'em
just yesterday."
"No, I mean for real. In person-like."
"I've seen Melissa's tits. Sorta." Melissa was another girl in
our neighborhood, about Kristen's age, who liked to run around in a
thin tank-top and no bra. Occasionally she would wash her car like
that. I lived for those days. I would sit in my window with my dad's
binoculars and spy on her. A couple of times I actually jerked off
while she was doing it.
"Oh, that don't count," Kristen said. "It only counts if you've
seen 'em naked, and only if the girl wants you to, not cause you're
sneaking a peek on her."
I had to admit that nothing like that had ever happened to me.
We went back to watching TV for a while. And then, out of the
blue, she announces, "I could show you my tits, if you want."
I think all I did was gape at her.
"I bet you'd prolly come in your pants if I did."
"No I wouldn't," I said defensively. I was worried about doing
just that, however. Since Jimmy and I had started beating off to his
collection of Playboys the year before this, I had displayed startlingly
little control.
Kristen got up and took my hand.
"Come on." She pulled me back to my bedroom and shut the
door behind us.
"If you tell a single living soul about this, I'll have Brandon
beat the shit out of you, I swear to God." Brandon was one of her
boyfriends.
She closed the drapes on my window and I sat on the bed. She
bit her lip nervously.
"Okay, here goes."
She pulled her t-shirt off over her head, exposing a washed-out
white bra. She dropped the shirt on the floor and then reached behind
to unhook the bra. She let that fall to the floor and exposed her naked
breasts to my view. At this point, I was probably drooling.
"Well, what do you think?" she asked after a while. "Brandon
says I got great tits."
At that moment, I was willing to swear that she had the most
beautiful breasts in existence, but in retrospect, she was really only
somewhat above average. Her breasts were only about a 34B, but with
the firmness and perkiness of youth. She would one day weigh two
hundred pounds and look like a bad imitation of Dolly Parton (the
result of having five kids before she was thirty), but back then she was
still slim and pretty.
She stepped up close to the bed.
"You can touch them if you want."
I reached out slowly and took her tit in my hand, just squeezing
it gently and feeling around.
She giggled at me.
"Are you nervous?"
"No!" She laughed again. Of course, my heart was in fact
about to come through my chest.
I squeezed the end of her tit a little.
"That's the nipple. Girls like it if you play with 'em."
I tried to oblige, inexpertly.
She sat down next to me on the bed.
"No, like this."
She took my hand and guided my fingers around her nipple,
eventually getting me to tweak it the way she liked. Then she took my
other hand and held it to her other tit.
"Do both of 'em."
She closed her eyes and let me play with her tits. I noticed--in
amazement--that her nipples were starting to stiffen and contract.
"Mmm. That feels good."
A minute later she leaned over and pushed me back on the bed.
She threw a leg over my waist and straddled me, then leaned down to
kiss me. I tried to embrace her but she pulled back.
"Don't stop. Keep doing what you're doing."
I went back to tweaking her nipples and she went back to
kissing me. By this time I had a raging hard-on, upon which she was
now sitting. She pushed herself against me but didn't really move.
After a little bit of this, she leaned back again.
"Wanna suck on 'em?"
The idea of actually sucking on a girls tits had barely entered
my mind at that age, and I doubt I was able to give her a coherent
answer. In any case, she slid up my waist a bit, and held her tit up to
my mouth. Once again I had no idea what I was doing, so Kristen had
to instruct me on the proper technique, or at least on how she liked it.
I sucked on one nipple for a while, then she moved me to other one. She
was getting rather agitated by this point.
After a few minutes, she reached down to pull off my shirt.
Now she let me hold her, and she pressed her damp breasts against my
naked chest. When we resumed kissing, she began rubbing herself
against my hard-on. We were both wearing cut-off shorts, and the
friction was almost more than I could stand.
Just before I was to squirt off in my underwear, she stopped and
lifted herself up.
"Now, I know you ain't seen a pussy yet. Have you?"
I shook my head.
She smiled and rolled onto her back.
"Slide down to the end of the bed."
I obeyed, and she unzipped her shorts, sliding them off.
Underneath were a pair of pink nylon panties.
"Close your eyes."
I did, and when she let me open them, she was lying naked on
my bed. She was leaning against the headboard, and had her knees up
and spread. She fluffed her blonde pubes with one hand and opened
herself a little.
"Can you see?"
"Yeah."
"This is where your dick goes. In here. And this is my clit."
She rubbed the little bud at the top and smiled at me.
"Have you started beating off yet?"
I went beet-red in an instant but said nothing. She laughed at me.
"Don't act so embarrassed, everybody does it. Even girls."
"Really?"
"Yeah. Only girls do it by rubbing their clit. Like this."
She rubbed herself some more. I was mesmerized.
"Come here."
She took my hand.
"You try it."
Just feeling her hot, damp flesh paralyzed my arm, and I could
do little but push at her.
"No, like this."
She guided my fingers over her clit as she had with her nipples.
Eventually I got it down close enough. She stopped directing me and
started playing with her tits. I had a sudden shock wondering if my
parents might walk in and catch us, but I realized that it was only nine,
and there was no way they would be home before the Blue Light closed
at one, and probably not for a while after that.
Kristen's breathing began to get heavier, and her stomach began
moving up and down slowly. She was chewing on her lower lip, eyes
closed, ignoring everything but my fingers.
"Faster, just a little faster," she moaned.
I rubbed her clit for a few minutes and watched her. She was
squeezing her breasts, pinching and pulling on the nipples. My hard-on
was forgotten--I wanted nothing but to see what was going to happen.
Suddenly--actually startling me out of my daze--she began to
convulse, and her hands shot down to mine, rubbing my fingers
furiously against her clit for several seconds. She groaned softly and
then pushed my hands away, melting back into the bed.
I pulled my hand back, feeling her wetness all over my fingers.
I looked closely at her pussy, wondering if anything else was going to
happen.
Eventually she opened her eyes and looked at me.
"That was pretty good."
I nodded. She looked me over.
"I bet you got a real hard-on now, huh?"
I suddenly remembered it, and I did.
"Lemme see."
I squirmed in embarrassment, but she stood up and pulled off
my shorts. My hard-on sprang forth, gooey with pre-cum.
She smiled at me.
"Not bad. Wait a sec, okay?"
She ran back into the living room and came back with her
purse. She dug around in it and pulled out a paper square, tearing it
open. Inside was what looked like a rolled-up balloon.
"Here, put this on."
"Why?"
She looked at me like I was the biggest idiot in the world.
"So you don't get me pregnant, dope."
She grabbed my dick and rolled what I now realized was a
rubber over it. She stood up, kissing me, and pushed me back on the
bed.
"Let me do this, okay?"
She straddled me, and took my dick in her hand, guiding it
between her legs. Even through the rubber, I thought it was the most
wonderful sensation in the world. I lay back, immobile, and let her
work.
Between the rubber, which was one of those old, thick,
unlubricated horrors, and the fact that Kristen was on top, I was able to
keep from squirting off until she came a few minutes later. Of course,
the moment I realized that she was coming again, I erupted instantly.
She lay down on my chest and stayed there for a while.
We rose and cleaned ourselves up eventually. Kristen again
threatened me with dire consequences if I told anyone, and I again
swore I wouldn't. At that point, had she asked me to commit murder
for her, I would have. I was absolutely, completely in love with her.
I slept with her a total of five more times over the next month,
with her in all of her seventeen years of wisdom trying to teach me a
few things. Then she told me she had a serious boyfriend and we had
to quit (this was the guy she would eventually marry). I was
heartbroken for a few months, but then developed a crush on this
red-headed girl in my class and got over it.
Michelle - Part 2
By the time I got to high school a year or so later, I had decided
that I was going to college and getting out of that town. I kept my grades
up, and by the Spring of my senior year, I had been accepted at several
good schools. The furthest one away was in Los Angeles, and between
financial aid, a partial athletic scholarship, and working 20 hours a
week, I was able to survive. My parents would die within the year, and
the small insurance settlement was enough to let me cut back on
working the next few years.
After my parents died, the rest of the family sort of adopted me
since I didn't have any brothers or sisters. When they talked me into
coming home for the holidays, I usually stayed with my aunt Josie and
my uncle Pete. Josie is my dad's oldest sister. They have six kids, but
all but one are grown and out of the house. That one is Michelle, a
precocious little sixteen-year-old (now seventeen) who inherited the
same blonde hair and blue eyes that Kristen has. We had always gotten
along pretty well, but being six or so years younger than me, I had
always thought of her as just a little kid.
Last summer, aunt Josie talked me into coming back for the
Fourth of July since I had avoided coming back for the holidays, and
thus hadn't been back home in almost two years. Again, this a
reconstruction, and although I remember it a lot better, some of it may
not have happened exactly the way I've got it down here.
The last time I had seen Michelle, she was fourteen, still skinny
and girlish, and acted that way. When I got home last summer, she had
blossomed in a major way. She was wearing makeup and styling her
hair, and dressing in skimpy outfits to show off her now very nicely
developed body. She was about 5'6" with a cute little butt and very
shapely legs. She had been almost flat-chested the last time I saw her,
but she was now sporting a set of perky 34C's.
I didn't have the money for plane fare, so I drove all the way
back home, two fourteen-hour days across the Southwest and then
Texas. When I got to Josie and Pete's, Josie was the only one still
waiting for me. Like her late brother (my dad), she is also an alcoholic,
and was a ways gone on Jack Daniels when I arrived. She put me up in
the back of the house, across the hall from Michelle's room.
While aunt Josie was helping me settle in, Michelle came out of
her room in a nightshirt to greet me. I was actually startled when I saw
her--she had, after all, gone from being a little kid to a certifiable
babe--and the only thing that went through my head was "whoa!"
She gave me a hug, and I could definitely sense the pressure
from a firm set of breasts.
"We missed you, Danny," aunt Josie said, "you need to get back
here more often."
"Yeah," Michelle said. She smiled at me.
When I got up the next morning, the kitchen was empty, Uncle
Pete having long since left for work, but Michelle was sunning herself
in the backyard on a lawnchair. As I leaned over to the window to get
a better look, I realized she was wearing a skimpy little yellow thong
bikini. I wondered where she had found it, because I figured no one in
this conservative Bible-Belt town would dare sell something like that,
even to an adult.
Aunt Josie staggered into the kitchen as I was eating breakfast,
holding her head. She mumbled a "good morning" to me and poured a
cup of coffee. Then she saw her daughter in the backyard and leaned
out the window.
"Michelle, for the love of Jesus, put on something decent, will
you?"
"Mom!" came the annoyed response.
Aunt Josie groaned.
"That little slut's gonna get herself into a heap of trouble one of
these days," Josie said to me. "I bet she ain't even a virgin anymore."
I didn't know what to say, so I just nodded.
"It ain't so much her as these two girls she runs around with.
Shelly Smith and Jennifer Baker. You know 'em?"
"I dated Shelly's sister in high school." Actually "dated" isn't
really accurate. Betsy Smith had been known to the guys on the
baseball team as "The Tongue." She was the first girl who ever gave
me a blow-job. She, like most of the girls I knew in high school, is
now married and overweight.
"Well Shelly's just as bad as her sister, believe me. I've tried to
keep Michelle away from her, but she won't listen to me."
"It's tough to do in a little town like this."
"I know."
She sighed.
"Sometimes I think you had the right idea, getting out of here.
Maybe shipping Michelle out of town would be the solution."
Josie finally got up.
"I gotta get to work. Can you keep an eye on her?"
"Yeah."
Josie left and I finished breakfast. After I took a shower,
Michelle was still in the backyard, so I went out to talk to her. She was
lying on her stomach now, her little butt almost naked except for a
narrow thong, and her bikini top untied.
"Hi," she said.
"Good morning."
"You like this suit? I just got it."
"It's nice. Where did you find it in this town?"
"I sent away for it. My friend Shelly had this bikini catalog and
we ordered some suits from it. You should see this one Shelly ordered.
It was a one-piece, but just a couple of strips of fabric going across her
boobs and almost nothing in back. I thought it was hot but her mom
won't let her wear it."
"I don't blame her."
She laughed. She had now come up slightly on her elbows
without tying her top, and I had difficulty not glancing down at her
partially exposed breasts.
"Girls in California wear stuff like that, don't they? I watch
'Baywatch' every night."
"Some of them do, I guess."
"Do you go to the beach a lot?"
"Sometimes. It gets crowded in the summer."
"God. I wish I lived in LA like you. Nothing ever happens in
this shitty town. You have to drive an hour just to get to a decent beach
and that's on a lake. Do you surf?"
I laughed.
"No. Never tried it."
"Oh. I'd like to do it. Or at least watch. I like Kelly Slater.
He's on Baywatch.'"
"I know."
"Do you like Pamela Lee?"
"I liked Erika Eleniak better."
"Oh. Well Shelly says I look like Pamela Lee in this suit. Or I
could if I did my hair like hers."
"Don't. It's fine the way it is."
She smiled and played with her hair self-consciously.
"Is my mom gone?"
"Yeah. She went to work."
"What do you wanna do? I was thinking we could go play
miniature golf. I could call Shelly and my other friend Jennifer."
I laughed.
"Your mom doesn't like those two."
She frowned.
"Why? What'd she say?"
"She thinks they're a couple of sluts."
She squawked in outrage.
"She should talk! The way she and dad are always hanging out
down at Eddie's."
"They go down to Eddie's a lot?"
"Yeah. Practically every weekend."
"My parents used to do that."
She didn't say anything immediately.
"Oh. Yeah. That sucks."
"It's okay."
"So you wanna go play miniature golf?"
"Sure."
Michelle got up and went to call Jennifer and Shelly. Then she
put on some cut-off shorts over her suit and re-did her hair and make-up.
She found me in the living room and we drove over to the miniature golf
course.
This miniature golf course has been around a while, long
enough that I had hung out there when I was Michelle's age. Jennifer
and Shelly were waiting for us. Both of them were relatively attractive,
but looked a lot like most small town girls who are trying to look
glamourous--too much make-up and too much hair spray. (Michelle,
on the other hand, was doing her best to look like a surfer girl.) I sort
of knew both of them, Shelly because of her sister and Jennifer because
her brother had been a friend of mine in high school.
"Hi Danny!" they both said when we pulled up.
Michelle followed me over, hugging my arm.
We spent a few hours playing miniature golf and then foosball
in the gameroom. We ate lunch at the snack bar, and the girls asked me
a lot about college and LA. They were apparently all addicted to
"Baywatch." They eventually got into an argument about whether I
looked more like Cody or like Matt (I don't look much like either),
eventually deciding that I looked more like Matt. By two o'clock, I
had had about enough of the two of them. They wanted to go hang
around the Wal-Mart outside of town (there being no mall within 50
miles), but I begged out of it. Jennifer and Shelly finally went off on
their own, and Michelle and I went home.
I spent the rest of the afternoon watching a baseball game on
TV. Michelle sat on the couch across from me, not that interested in
the game but not wanting to be by herself.
"Are you still playing baseball?"
"Yeah, I play first base, but I'm not a starter. I like it, but I
don't have a prayer of even making the minors after I graduate."
"Jennifer and Shelly both think you're really cute."
I laughed.
"So I gathered."
"Do you have a girlfriend?"
"Not really. I had one this Spring but we broke up."
"Oh. Bummer. I don't have a boyfriend either. I don't like
high school boys anyway. All the guys I know are jerks. That's why I
wanna get out of here."
"You got the grades for college?"
She squirmed.
"Sorta. I'm trying."
"Just keep at it. It'll happen."
She sat quietly for a while.
"I think you're cute, too," she said.
"Thanks."
"Why don't you have a girlfriend?"
"I just don't. I'm not into running around."
"Oh. Me neither. I'm waiting for someone special."
I grinned.
"That's not what your mom says."
"What do you mean?" she asked indignantly. "What did she say?"
"She doesn't think you're a virgin anymore."
"Oh! That bitch! God, I swear, she doesn't know anything about me."
"Don't talk about your mother like that."
"Why not?"
"Because you should be happy you have one."
She looked down at the floor.
"Oh. Sorry."
Josie and Pete got home around five-thirty, and we all had
dinner together. After dinner the four of us watched TV--"Baywatch,"
of course--and the two of them got progressively drunker. Around ten,
they both staggered off to bed. Michelle and I ended up in her room
talking again, with her on her bed and me sitting at her desk.
"I can't believe my mom doesn't think I'm a virgin," she said.
"I mean, it's not like I go out all that much, and that's always with
Jennifer and Shelly."
"It's probably because of that."
"Yeah. Jennifer and Shelly have both done it already."
"Well, I'm sure they've told you they have. You don't know
they're telling the truth."
"Well I know Jennifer has. Shelly and I watched her."
"You watched her?"
"Yeah. She was going out with her boyfriend and she told us
where they were gonna park. So we went and hid in the bushes."
"Jesus."
"Well it wasn't much. They were making out for a while, and
then just did it. It only lasted about a minute."
"How old is her boyfriend?"
"Seventeen. He's a junior."
"I'm sure she enjoyed it."
"She said it was okay. It didn't look like she did, though."
"She hardly had time to."
"I know. That's why I'd never do it with a high school boy. I
want a guy who knows what he's doing, who'd treat me with respect."
"I think you're a little young, anyway."
"Well you did it with Kristen when you were thirteen."
My jaw dropped, and it took me a second or two to respond to that.
"How the hell did you know that?"
"Stacy told me." Stacy is Kristen's youngest sister.
"Christ."
"So I'm three years older than you were."
"It's not the same thing. It's not like I was chasing her or
anything. She just came on to me one night."
"That's not what Stacy says. She said you were in love with
Kristen."
"I was, but that's not the point."
"Well, still. You did do it with her."
"Who else knows about that?"
"I dunno. Stacy made me swear I wouldn't tell anyone. She
said Kristen was drunk when she told her about it."
My head was starting to buzz. The idea that the rest of the
family knew about that incident did not fill me with joy. By now I've
realized they couldn't care less.
"I don't think it's a big deal," Michelle said. "It's not like you
were gonna marry her or anything."
"Yeah. There was no chance of that happening, thank God."
"Shelly did it with her cousin, or so she says."
"No shit?"
"Yeah. I dunno if she's telling the truth. She kind of
announced it about a month after we watched Jennifer do it."
"She might have been making it up."
"I know. But now they're after me to lose it too. I don't wanna
just do it in a car like Jennifer did, but I don't know if I can wait
forever."
"Don't feel like you have to rush it. It's worth waiting for."
She looked down at her bed and fidgeted with one of her stuffed
animals.
"Danny, what's it like? Sex, I mean."
I struggled for a moment with an appropriate response to that.
"It can be really good, or really gross depending on who you're
with and why. I don't think I really got much out of it until I got to
college and didn't have to sneak around."
"I mean like physically, though. What does it feel like when
you do it?"
"It's hard to understand if you haven't done it. I mean I could
tell you all about LA, but it wouldn't be the same as if you went there
yourself."
"Oh. Yeah. Maybe I should go there myself, then."
She grinned. She wasn't talking about LA.
"I'm going to bed. Good night."
"Good night. Thanks, Danny."
I couldn't help but grin slightly.
"No problem."
Michelle - Part 3
I spent the next day with a friend of mine from high school and
his wife, watching baseball and barbecuing in their backyard. After I'd
been there a few hours, I realized how little I still had in common with
that town, even the people who had once been my friends. Knowing
that I could have easily ended up where he was--married to an
overweight wife, two bratty kids, a job at the local chicken-processing
plant, and a big mortgage on a small house--did not make me feel all
that great. We ate an early dinner and I left around five.
I found Michelle watching television alone.
"How was it?"
"Okay. I think I've gotten too much of this town out of my
system to be comfortable here anymore."
"Yeah, I bet. You probably wanna go back to LA, huh?"
"Eventually. Nothing wrong with visiting."
"Could I come see you some time?"
"Sure. If you can find a way to get out there."
She fidgeted for a second.
"Maybe I could come back with you."
"What, you mean now? Next week when I go home?"
"Well, I was just thinking, I don't have school or anything til
September."
Despite all her interest in California, this took me completely by
surprise.
"Jeez, I don't know. You'd have to talk to your mom first."
"Yeah, I know, but if it was okay with her, could I?"
"I'd have to think about it."
She didn't hide her disappointment very well.
"That's okay. It was just an idea."
"I'm not saying no, it's just that I don't know how you'd get
home." Or where she would sleep, since I shared a tiny two-bedroom
apartment with a friend of mine. Or the fact that my roommate was a
major sex fiend, who would be scamming on her the instant she walked
in the door.
"I could take the bus, or something."
"Well, we'd have to work that out first."
"Okay."
She stared down at the couch and picked at a loose thread.
"You just caught me by surprise is all. It's not like I wouldn't
enjoy having you come out there."
"Oh, yeah. Sorry."
I didn't feel like sitting around watching "Baywatch" again that
night, so I suggested to Michelle that we go play miniature golf and eat
dinner at their snack bar. She agreed instantly, and Josie and Pete liked
the idea too. They told us, "Go out, have some fun." Josie even said to
me quietly right before we left, "Don't worry about getting her home
early. Just keep her out of trouble." I got the feeling they wanted the
house to themselves for one night, whatever they planned on doing.
We played a couple rounds of miniature golf, had some
cheeseburgers, and then hung out in the game room for a while.
Michelle was clearly having a blast, and most of it appeared to from
being seen with a "college guy," even if it was her cousin. I had a good
time too, but by eleven or so I was ready to go. I think Michelle
wanted to stay, but didn't complain.
"Do you want to go home?" she asked me.
"Not really."
"Me neither."
I don't know what her reasons were, but I had no desire to walk
in on Josie and Pete going at it in the living room. I wasn't going to go
back until I was sure they were out cold.
"We could go down to the creek," she said.
"The creek" is the local river where kids like to swim in the
summer and hang out on weekend nights. I wouldn't have gone down
there on a Friday, but since it was a Monday night, I figured it wouldn't
be full of people. As corny as it might sound, I had developed a habit
of going down to the creek to think when I was a kid. There was a
little spot I found to sit in, where I would fantasize about being a major
league ballplayer and a lot of other things. So the idea of going down
there with Michelle seemed pretty good.
Without even thinking of it, I stopped at the Circle K to get a
couple of beers. I realized when we pulled up that Michelle was badly
underage, so I told her to stay in the car.
"That's okay, I don't like beer."
When we got down to the creek, to my surprise, it was deserted.
My boombox was in the back seat of my car, so I took it with us along
with the beer. It took about five minutes to walk from the parking area
along the road to my "spot." It was on a dirt ledge just above a bend in
the creek, where the water was wide and deep enough to jump into.
I sat with her for about an hour, talking about random shit and
drinking my beer. After I opened the second one, Michelle asked for a
taste, and then declared that it "wasn't so bad." I was feeling generous,
so I let her finish it, which as it turned out wasn't such a great idea.
I realized something while we were sitting there. Cousin or not,
I was very strongly attracted to her. Sitting together in the moonlight,
listening to the radio and drinking beer, was the kind of situation I
worked so hard to contrive with various girls in high school but only
occasionally succeeded at. And Michelle was better looking than any
of my high-school girlfriends had been.
After we'd been there about an hour or so, Michelle asked me,
"You want to go swimming?"
"You bring your suit?"
"Um, no." She grinned. "We could go skinny-dipping."
Several things occurred to me at once. One, I most definitely
wanted to see her naked. But as soon as I thought of that, I thought
"you are a perverted geek. That is as bad as spying on your mother
when she was undressing." I also realized that this last hour by the
creek probably had the same effect on her as it did on me. If I took off
my clothes and went swimming with her, I was probably heading down
a road I didn't need to be traveling.
But, unfortunately, while I was thinking all this, my mouth
opened up and said, "Sure."
Michelle stood, grinning eagerly, and walked down to the
water.
"You should tie up your hair. Your mom might wonder what
we've been doing."
"Yeah."
She climbed back up the bank to her purse to get a rubber band.
I considered whether I should wait for her, and then pulled off my
t-shirt and jeans and ran into the water. She was back down to the creek,
her hair up in a messy bun, when I went in.
I wanted to watch her undress, but thought I would seem like a
geek if I stared at her. So I swam around, glancing at her quickly,
trying to watch without making it seem like I was trying to watch. In
any case, she turned away from me as she wriggled out of her clothes,
then covered herself as she hopped into the water. I did get to see her
naked ass, which was very nice.
She swam out to where I was treading water.
"Have you ever been skinny-dipping before?"
"A few times," I told her. Of course, that was only with my
friends on the baseball team when we got really drunk.
"I haven't. It feels so weird without a suit."
She was facing me now, and her breasts were floating up just
enough to make me very uncomfortable. She splashed me and giggled.
"I've never been naked with a guy before either."
"This doesn't count."
"Why not? It's not like you're my brother."
"You know what I mean."
She swam around a little, looking up at the stars.
"Have you ever done it out here in the woods like this?"
"Skinny-dipping?"
"No, um. Sex."
"No. Not unless you count doing it in the car."
"Oh. I guess everybody uses their cars."
"Yeah. Not much else when you're still in high school."
"Who did you do it with when you were still around here?"
"Betsy Smith."
She thought this was just fascinating.
"You did it with Betsy?"
"A couple times."
"Did she give you a blow-job?"
"Jesus," I said. She laughed.
"Shelly says Betsy gave a lot of guys bj's cause she didn't want
to get pregnant."
That was something that had never occurred to me. I
remembered then that Betsy had been the only girl I'd slept with in
high school who had insisted I wear a rubber. I think now that Betsy
was not quite the airhead slut I'd always thought of her as.
"So did she?"
"Yeah. Me and half the guys on the baseball team."
"Really?"
"Well I know she did with Tommy Hammaker and Rich
Hastings. I heard she did it with some other guys but I could be
wrong."
"God. I could never be like that. I'd only do it with a guy I was
in love with."
I didn't know what to say to that. Michelle's questions got me
thinking of that first time with Betsy, of the shock and delight I felt
when she first took my cock in her mouth, delight that was quickly
exceeded when I came in her mouth a minute or so later. She gave me
about five blow jobs before I could convince her to sleep with me. I
thought that after all that oral attention, I would return the favor by
going down on her, but for some reason she didn't seem to like it.
So of course, between thinking of Betsy Smith, and swimming
around naked with Michelle while getting occasional glimpses of her
breasts, nothing was going to stop me from getting a major hard-on. It
didn't surprise me, but it was still frustrating. I knew I was just going
to have to stay in the creek until it went down.
Part of me desperately wanted to swim over to her, take her in
my arms, and kiss her. But I didn't. I just kept telling myself, you are
an adult, you are capable of controlling your dick. I also knew that she
was drunk and I didn't want her to do anything she would regret later.
Because I knew that if I tried to kiss her, she would let me. She might
even have given me her virginity if I wanted it.
Michelle finally swam over until she was just a few feet away
from me. She was grinning at me again, and I was now wishing I had
never given her that beer. She was precocious enough sober.
When she got up close, the wave she created exposed her
nipples, and I couldn't resist a glance downward. Of course, she saw
me do it, and laughed. Then she stood up out of the water, bare to the
waist, and posed like she was modeling for me. Then she covered
herself, and laughing hysterically, fell back into the water.
I wanted to get out and get dressed before this went any further,
but of course I couldn't. She swam back over to me, smiling.
"Danny, do you have a hard-on?"
Even the way she had been acting, this took me completely by
surprise. I could only manage an embarrassed, "No," but I was lying
horribly and she knew it. She laughed again.
"I've never seen one before."
"And you're not gonna see this one."
"You saw my boobs."
"That's not the same thing."
"Okay."
She stood up, walked out of the creek, and turned back to me.
"There. Now you have to show me."
It took me a moment to respond. There was still a hint of slim
girlishness in her figure, but no more than that. Her breasts were high
and full, her nipples hard from the water. Her waist was narrow and
her butt firm and tight. In the moonlight, her blonde pubes looked no
more substantial than smoke.
"Okay," I said in defeat. "But then we're going home."
"Okay."
I climbed out of the water, my dick standing at attention. She
stared at it raptly. I let her look for a few seconds, and then bent to
pick up my jeans.
"That's it. The peep show is over for tonight."
We got dressed and went back. Josie and Pete, whatever they
had been up to, were asleep. I said good night to Michelle in the
hallway, but I couldn't resist giving her a kiss on the forehead. She
hugged me when I did it.
"I had a lot of fun tonight," she said.
"I'll bet you did."
She grinned.
"Good night."
That night, I was unable to get that vision of her standing naked
by the creek out of my head. I spent nearly an hour either trying to
rationalize sleeping with her or castigating myself for even thinking of
it. Finally, I had to beat off to get to sleep. I tried to think of
Betsy Smith while I was doing it, but I was unable to keep from thinking of
Michelle. I thought near the end that she was probably doing the same
thing in her room, and that was what pushed me over the edge.
Michelle - Part 4
The next morning, she was late getting up, and looked slightly
embarrassed.
"I guess I got a little drunk last night, huh?"
"I shouldn't have given you that beer."
"It's okay. I had fun."
I hoped that maybe that slight loss of control might calm her
down, but it didn't. Later that day, she asked me, "Danny, have you
ever watched an x-rated video?"
"A few."
She grinned at me.
"Do you wanna get one?" she whispered.
I laughed.
"Here? In this town?"
"You can, really."
"Where?"
"The video store by McDonald's. They don't advertise it at all,
but Shelly says they've got some in the back if you ask for them. You
just have to be twenty-one to rent them."
"How does Shelly know all this?"
"Betsy rents them with her husband. They let Shelly watch one."
"Jeez."
"Can we?"
"Give me one good reason why."
"I wanna see one."
"You want to watch strange people having sex?"
"You've watched them. Why can't I?"
"Because I'm twenty-two and you're sixteen."
But she wouldn't quit bugging me about it, and eventually I
caved in. I finally thought that she was probably going to get more
than she expected, and that maybe that would be enough to cool her
off.
"But you are not coming inside with me. In fact, I want you to
stay home while I go over there."
"Okay."
Josie and Pete were about to come home from work, so I told
her we would have to wait until they went to bed and passed out to
watch it. She agreed, apparently willing to accept any condition as
long as I got the video.
I have never been able to comfortably rent adult videos. My
foremost thought is always that the clerk is thinking that I am only
getting them to jerk off. And that's when I'm doing it in LA, where I
doubt anyone cares anymore. Even the big chain stores out here have
adult sections now. I still don't know how I worked up the courage to
do it back home, but somehow I did. Mainly, I think the idea of having
Michelle think I chickened out was worse.
I waited until the store was clear, and then went up to the clerk,
who was a middle-aged man, thank god.
"Um, could I see the adult video list?"
He looked me over briefly.
"Can I see your driver's license?"
I showed it to him, and satisfied that I was over twenty-one, he
reached under the counter and handed me a slim black binder. Inside
were a couple of typed pages of movie titles. The only one I
recognized was Andrew Blake's "House of Dreams." I had seen it, and
knew it was pretty strong stuff. If this didn't satisfy Michelle's
curiosity, nothing would.
I asked for "House of Dreams," and the clerk went into the back
and got it for me. I paid him as fast as I could, and walked back to the
car.
Josie and Pete were home when I got back, so Michelle wasn't
immediately able to interrogate me about what I had rented. Finally,
she cornered me back in my room, obviously excited.
"Where is it?"
"In my car. Just wait."
"What did you get?"
"Something called House of Dreams.'"
"What's it about?"
"Relax. You'll see."
Michelle was like a kid on Christmas Eve the rest of the night,
glancing over at me constantly, watching for any sign that Josie and
Pete would go to bed. Eventually, of course, they did.
Michelle had a cheap little TV in her room, so I disconnected
the VCR in the living room and set it up in there. I sat at her desk to
watch, but she sat on the floor about two feet away from the screen,
knees up, holding a pillow between her chest and her thighs.
I think it would have been an understatement to say that
Michelle was mesmerized. Even the lesbian scenes, which I wasn't
sure how she would react to, had her glued to the screen. But as the
movie went on, showcasing mild B/D, three-ways, and anal sex, among
other things, her demeanor slowly changed from excitement to fear. If
you've seen "House of Dreams," I'm sure you understand that it's a lot
for an inexperienced sixteen-year-old girl to take in one sitting. I had
hoped it might cool her off, and obviously it had, but even more so than
I expected. By the end of the movie, I was feeling like shit for doing
this to her.
"Are you okay?"
She shrugged weakly. I had no choice but to hug her.
"I'm sorry. That was probably more than you expected."
"Yeah."
I held her for a bit, then disconnected the VCR and returned it
to the living room. When I came back, Michelle's door was shut.
Feeling like an even bigger shithead, I went in my room and went to
bed.
But a few minutes later, there was a quiet knock on my door.
"Yeah?"
Michelle opened the door and came in, dressed only in her
nightshirt and holding a stuffed bear. Her eyes were downcast, and her
forehead was still creased in distress.
"Danny?"
"What?"
"Can I sleep in here with you tonight?"
"Scared?"
"A little. Sorta."
"Yeah, come on."
She climbed into bed with me and curled up with the bear.
"I'm sorry," I said again.
"It's okay. It was my dumb idea."
"I should have gotten something a little tamer."
"Have you done stuff like that?"
"No. Most people don't. It's just a movie."
She rolled over toward me and snuggled under my arm. I didn't
know what else to say, so I held her until we fell asleep.
I woke up before she did the next morning and just lay there
looking at her. She was beautiful and she smelled good, and even if I
couldn't do anything with her, it was a nice feeling to have her next to
me. Finally I got up to take a piss, and when I came back, she was
awake, lying on her side.
"Hi."
"How are you doing?"
"Okay. I liked sleeping with you."
"So did I. But you better get up before your mom catches us."
Josie and Pete were still asleep, so we just went out and had
breakfast together. That day was the Fourth, and we were supposed to
get together with all the rest of the family at my grandfather's for a big
barbecue.
I won't bore you with the details of what happened; suffice to
say that it was no different than any other Fourth of July party that day.
But Michelle was rarely away from my side, and I had to admit that I
did like having her around. Josie even teased me by telling my
grandma, "Those two have been like peas in a pod this week." By
nightfall, though, most of the family was rip-roaring drunk, and no
longer cared what the two of us did.
Around nine, we all walked down to the high school to watch
the meager town fireworks display. About halfway there, Michelle's
hand slipped into mine, and I decided to leave it there.
Michelle spent the whole fireworks show laying next to me on
the football field with her head on my shoulder. I think by then, I knew
I was going to sleep with her. There were a basket of reasons why I
shouldn't have, but the force of the moment can be pretty strong,
especially when that moment is lying alongside a beautiful girl on a
summer night.
I knew there would be problems afterward. There was no way
she could come and live with me in LA, and there was no way I was
going to stay back home, even for her. I kept thinking she had to know
this, but I also know that when you're sixteen and in love, you tend not
to have a lot of sense. God knows I've been there myself. I wasn't
sure that being twenty-two (and maybe in love too) gave you much
sense either.
But as I lay there with her, occasionally stroking her hair or
holding her hand, I thought, when was the last time I did something
really reckless and self-indulgent? It had to be before I had decided to
go to college and get out of that town, because ever since then, I'd been
a model of self-discipline. And once I looked at it like that, the battle
was over. I just swore to myself that whatever happened, I was going
to do my damnedest not to hurt Michelle.
Is there any one among you who could have held out as long as
I did?
Eventually the fireworks were over. We had split up with Josie
and Pete on the way over to the school, and I doubt they cared. This
was a small town, they wouldn't have been worried about us walking
home alone. We walked back together, her under my arm and looking
so happy she might burst.
When we got a block or two from the house, she stopped.
"Can we not go back yet?"
"Where do you want to go?"
"I dunno. You want to go over to the park?"
She meant Memorial Square, a little neighborhood park a
couple of blocks away. There really was only one thing we could do
over there this late at night, and we both knew it.
"Sure."
We walked over to the park and settled down in a depression
under a tree. I spread out the blanket I'd brought with us for the
fireworks, and we laid back down the way we'd been on the football
field.
Michelle rolled over a minute or so later and laid her head on
my chest so she was looking up at me.
"Danny?"
"What?"
"Did you think anymore about me coming back with you?"
I was leaving the day after tomorrow, so I knew this was going
to come up.
"Yeah. I'd like you to come, if your mom is okay with it."
"Really?"
"Yeah. But listen. Your being my cousin may be no big deal
around here, but it will be in LA."
She looked away for a second.
"I could just be your girlfriend though, not your cousin, right?"
"Yeah."
Now she looked back at me, smiling.
"So I am your girlfriend now?"
Sue me, but I actually got a little choked up at that point.
"Yeah. I think so."
And that's when I finally kissed her. She wasn't much of a
kisser, but I didn't care. She tasted good, and I wanted her so bad it
didn't matter. We stayed in the park, making out, for about half an
hour probably. I don't know how far she wanted to go, but I stopped
myself after fondling her breasts over her t-shirt. She felt as firm and
perky as she looked, and I didn't know how long I was going to be able
to hold out.
Finally we got up and went home. When we got back to her
bedroom, she grinned at me evilly.
"Want me to sleep in there again tonight?"
"You better not."
"I'll behave."
"I don't know if I can."
Somehow how I managed to get to sleep.
Michelle - Part 5
Michelle broached the idea of going to LA the next morning. I
was in the living room watching TV and she and Josie came in
together.
"Danny, is this really okay with you?"
"Yeah. The couch at my place is big enough for her. Or I
could sleep there and she could sleep in my room. I'd like to have her
visit and show her around LA. You know how she is about
'Baywatch.'"
"Have you thought about how you're going to get home?" she
asked Michelle.
"The bus?"
"That's going to cost some money."
"I can kick in a little," I said.
"Well find out how much it is, and we'll see."
Michelle immediately called the bus station. As it was, a
one-way ticket from LA back there wasn't more than Josie was willing to
spend, after I offered to split it. Michelle was so happy she was
practically bouncing around the house. She settled down long enough
to call Shelly and Jennifer, and then started packing.
"Are you sure this is all right?" Josie asked. "I know how
persistent she can be."
No shit, I wanted to say.
"It's fine. We'll have a lot of fun."
I called my roommate to warn him, but guess what?
"Fuck, I don't care," he said. "I'm not going to be there
anyway."
"What do you mean?"
"I decided to go home too. As soon as you get back I'm taking
off back to the Springs."
He's from Palm Springs. Why he wanted to go back there in
the middle of July was beyond me, but I didn't argue.
We left early the next morning and got as far as El Paso before I
was too tired to keep going. Michelle slept part of the way, read for a
bit, but spent most of the time talking about all the stuff she wanted to
do and see in LA. When we got to El Paso, I made her stay in the car
while I rented us a room at this cheap looking motel.
The clerk, of course, asked me "Just you?"
I told him it was. I didn't know how I was going to explain
Michelle. That was how we ended up with a single queen-sized bed.
When we walked into the room, I could tell Michelle wasn't
sure what to make of it.
"I didn't ask for one bed. He just gave it to me."
She smiled.
"Sure. But it's okay."
No, we did not have sex that night. But I think we could have if
I'd been willing to move that fast with her. When the lights were out,
she rolled over, snuggling next to me, kissing my neck. I pulled her up
and kissed her back, and for a few minutes, we lay together like that. I
felt all over her, her smooth butt and firm legs, her thick hair, and
eventually those wonderful breasts. Her nipples were hard and stiff,
almost poking through her thin nightshirt. I couldn't resist sliding a
hand up under her shirt, and she didn't stop me. She was a little too big
for my hand, firm and round even though she was on her back. I
played with her nipples for a few minutes, before I realized I was
getting her very hot and bothered.
She was kissing me fiercely now, holding me a tightly as she
could. I knew if we went any further there would be no going back,
and I wasn't ready for that yet. I took my hand out of her shirt, and
pulled back a little to look at her. I kissed her nose. The need on her
face was almost desperate.
"I love you, Danny. I love you so much."
"I love you too. But we need to go to sleep."
She bit her lip. I knew she wasn't ready to stop yet.
"Danny?"
"What?"
"Will you . . . will you make love to me?"
"Not yet. We don't have to go this fast."
She didn't say anything for a bit.
"Okay. You're right."
I held her for a while longer, and finally fell asleep.
We got to LA after dark the next day. Coming down Interstate
10 from the Mojave, you pass through San Bernardino, which isn't that
interesting, but eventually you hit LA, and the 10 goes right through
downtown. Michelle was spellbound, and I didn't blame her. I felt the
same way when I first got out here. When you've spent your whole life
in a small town in Arkansas, LA at night is almost like the Emerald
City. When she saw the Hollywood sign after we passed downtown,
she made me swear I'd take her up there. That was a Friday night
when we got there, and going up through Westwood to my apartment
past all the movie theaters was almost more than she could stand. She
insisted we go out walking when we'd unloaded the car. We got
something to eat, wandered around, and didn't go to bed until well after
midnight. We held hands most of the time, and no one noticed or even
cared.
We were both exhausted, and didn't do anything beyond a little
kissing and hugging after we went to bed. Neither one of us suggested
she sleep on the couch.
I'm probably going to remember every detail of the next day
until I die. I could tell you all of them, but I doubt you're interested
in what the sunrise looked like that morning. I knew we were going to
make love that night, and I wanted everything to be perfect for her.
We both woke up early. We showered (not together, not yet at
least) and threw on some clothes. I took her down the street to a coffee
shop on Westwood Boulevard and we ate a slow breakfast.
"So what's our first destination?" I asked her.
"The beach. We have to go the beach."
No surprise there.
We packed up our gear along with some sandwiches, and I
drove her up to Malibu. I could have taken her down to Santa Monica,
but the beach there isn't all that interesting. I drove her down Sunset,
then turned down Temescal Canyon to PCH. I went that way because
the first view of the ocean down that road is one of the prettiest sights
I've ever seen. Michelle ate it all up, bouncing around in her seat so as
not to miss anything we passed.
I drove all the way up around Point Dume, and then around
back to Point Dume Beach, which in my opinion is the most beautiful
beach in California. It sits at the bottom of a cliff, and is backstopped
at the far end by a huge rock face that extends out into the water. It's
also a frequent movie and TV location, which was the other reason I
picked it. Michelle's only disappointment was that the other people on
the beach looked distressingly normal. (After "Baywatch," who would
blame her?) Otherwise she was in heaven. She swam in the ocean a
little, but mainly she just wanted to sit in the sun and look around at
everything. She was wearing that little yellow bikini again, so I was
happy to have her lying next to me.
"I remember this," she said, "this beach was on 'Baywatch' a
couple times."
"It's been in a lot of things."
"This is so neat."
"You remember in the video we watched, the scene on the
beach?"
The recollection of that dampened her mood a bit, but she did
remember.
"Yeah. That wasn't here, though."
"Yes it was. It was filmed right over those rocks. There's a
little lagoon over there."
This blew her away, and she insisted on climbing over the rocks
to see the lagoon.
"Oh my god! It was here!"
That sense of recognition, of seeing something you see
frequently or have at least seen before show up on TV or the movies, is
something you get fairly often living in LA. You get used to it, but I
figured Michelle's trip wouldn't be complete without experiencing it at
least once.
We ate lunch on the beach and finally left around three. We got
cleaned up back at my apartment, and then ate an early dinner in
Westwood. I took her to a movie at eight, and then we went back to the
coffee shop afterward. It was one of those cool, hazy nights on the
Westside, the ones that always make me think of "Bladerunner." The
mist in the air reflects all the lights of the city, and bathes everything
in an orange glow. I looked over at Michelle, gorgeous little Michelle,
and she smiled at me. She was wearing a short baby t-shirt and a tight
pair of jeans, and had her blonde hair all loose around her face. I
thought that if there was a better place to be in the world that night, I
didn't know where it was.
"You having fun so far?"
She sighed.
"I love it. I love you. This is so great."
We walked back home slowly, holding hands. I think both of
us knew what was going to happen. I don't know about her, but I was
nervous as all hell.
Michelle - Part 6
Neither of us said anything when we got inside my apartment. I
remember she sort of glanced around the living room and then looked
at me. She giggled nervously. I still wasn't certain that she really
wanted to do this, so I didn't want to just drag her back to the bedroom.
I took a step toward her, and she stepped back away from me, giggling
again, holding her hands behind her back. I stepped toward her again,
and still grinning, she backed up toward the bedroom. I followed her.
She stopped in the middle of the room, in front of the bed.
"Um."
"What?"
"I don't know," she said.
"Are you nervous?"
"Yeah. Are you?"
"Yeah."
"You are?"
"Yes."
"Wow."
I finally got up next to her, and put my arms around her. She
leaned against my chest and hugged me.
"We don't have to do this tonight."
"No, it's okay. I want to."
I brushed her hair back, and she looked up at me expectantly.
So I kissed her.
We kissed standing up like that for a minute or so, then backed
up and fell back onto the bed. She lay down next to me, and just let me
do what I wanted. I tried to go as slowly as possible, to let her get as
much out of it as I did.
I spent a while feeling her over her clothes, then under her t-shirt,
which I pulled off a bit later. She sat up to help me get it off, and
then, grinning, unhooked her bra and threw it on the floor. She seemed
to have very sensitive nipples, or maybe it was just the newness of it
that turned her on so much. I caressed her breasts for a long time,
tweaking the nipples, running my fingers back and forth over them,
feeling the stiffness. Eventually, she began pulling at my shirt, wanting
me bare-chested too, and she slid onto me, pressing her breasts against
my chest, kissing me passionately.
I hugged her to me, holding her tightly. Then I pulled her up,
moving her breasts up to my face, and began sucking on her nipples.
She started making little noises at this, obviously loving it. I kept
that up, licking and sucking all over her breasts, until her nipples were red
and swollen.
When I couldn't stand waiting any more, I reached down and
unbuttoned her jeans, while still sucking her nipples. She lifted up her
butt, trying to help me get them off, but we couldn't make it work, and
she had to flop over onto her back. Her jeans were tight enough that
her panties came partially off too, and after fidgeting with them a
second, she slid them off as well rather than pull them back up. I
pulled off my jeans after that, and naked together, we wriggled under
the covers.
I just held her, kissing her softly. I felt all over her smooth
body, loving every inch of it. She writhed slowly, pressing herself
against me. I resumed sucking her nipples, and after a minute, slipped
a hand between her thighs. She spread her legs a bit and let me in. Her
pubic hair was soft and sparse, and she was already wet. I stroked her a
bit on the outside, not wanting to move too fast. She lay still and just
held me. Eventually I worked my way to her clit, opening her up,
finding her wetness. With my fingers moistened inside her, I began
stroking her clit more deliberately, still licking and sucking on her left
nipple.
She didn't really move, but her breathing got heavier, and she
held me more tightly. A few minutes later, she suddenly gripped me
with all her strength, and began shaking her hips against my hand. I
kept stroking her to the end of her orgasm, and her nails dug into my
back. Then the tension began to slowly leave her body, and I slid up to
kiss her.
She kissed me weakly, still recovering, and I held her to me,
stroking her face. I still wasn't ready to enter her, though, because it
had been almost four months since I'd had sex, and I was afraid the
first time wasn't going to last too long.
I rolled her on her back again, and crawled over on top of her. I
kissed my way down her body, nuzzling her breasts, then her firm
stomach, until I got down between her legs. Again, she just lay there
and let me do what I wanted.
She was already very wet, but had almost no taste to her. I
licked gently all over her lips and clit. I slipped my tongue inside her,
trying to find her cherry, but couldn't really tell anything different. I
returned to her clit, licking her in earnest, holding her firm butt in the
palms of my hands. After a minute or so, she reached down and took
my hands in hers, gripping them tightly. A little bit later, her hands
clamped down on mine, and her hips began to shake again. I held on
tightly, finishing her off. I wanted to keep licking her after orgasm was
over, but she had other ideas. She pulled my head up, trying to pull me
back on top of her.
"Wait a sec."
I had to lean over to my nightstand to get a rubber, but that was
taken care of quickly enough. I rolled over on top of her, and reached
down to guide myself in. She was the only virgin I've ever slept with,
so I'm not sure what I was expecting--maybe some grand rupture, her
crying out in pain, or at least just something popping, but the truth is
there really wasn't anything (although there was a little blood on the
sheets afterward). I was inside her before I knew it, and she gasped, "I
love you, Danny."
As I expected, it didn't last all that long. I could finally release
all my pent-up desire for her, and inexperienced as she was, she just
held on for the ride. I think she did come, but I wasn't going to be
crass and ask her afterward. She was so delicious I wanted to eat her
all up. I kissed her as deeply as I could, penetrating her from two
directions. She held me tightly, trying to open herself as widely as she
could. When I heard her begin to whine through her nose, I lost it,
squirting off helplessly inside her.
We held each other for a long time before I finally slipped out
of her. I got up to clean myself off (not wanting, even in all my lust
for her, to get her pregnant), and then rejoined her in bed.
"How you doing?" I asked her.
"It was great. I love you."
"I love you too."
We lay together for a while, but eventually I started kissing and
fondling her again, and this time, she was a little more active, wanting
to explore herself instead of letting me do all the work. She tried to
give me a little head, but couldn't quite make herself do it. I told her
not to worry about it, that we had plenty of time. Soon we were
making love again, and it lasted a lot longer than the first time. I
rolled over to put her on top, and let her do what she wanted. I know she
came that second time, and more than once probably. When I finally
came myself, we were both worn out, but definitely sated. Then we
held each other until we fell asleep.
We hit every conceivable tourist spot that week. We went to
Hollywood and the Walk of Fame; we went to Disneyland and
Universal Studios; the stars' homes; up to the Hollywood sign; Venice
and the Santa Monica Pier. I showed her around school and bought her
a couple of t-shirts, which she wore the rest of the week. And of course
we went to the beach almost every day too.
She'd brought a cheap little camera with her, and she took a
million pictures wherever we went. I still have the ones she sent me
when she got home. One of them, of the two of us at Disneyland, is
still sitting next me on my desk. We're standing in front of the Rocket
Jets ride. She's wearing faded blue jean shorts and one of the UCLA
t-shirts I bought her. She's hugging me tightly, and I've got a goofy,
contented grin on my face. I still remember when that picture was
taken. We'd just eaten lunch, and I had to wipe a spot of mustard off
her face.
She was happier that week than anyone I'd ever seen. And I
was about as happy as I've ever been. I loved having her around, and it
wasn't just the sex, as wonderful as that was. I genuinely liked her,
genuinely liked being with her.
We made love every night she was there, usually more than
once and sometimes in the mornings too. I still felt a twinge of guilt
about it, so I did everything I could to make it perfect for her. I was
more mature and considerate with her than I had ever been with any of
my college girlfriends.
But the last two days she started sobbing uncontrollably,
declaring that she was never going home, that she wanted to stay with
me forever. Sometimes now I like to fantasize that I let her stay, that
somehow I could have made it work. But of course it was impossible.
My roommate came home the day after she left, and that alone would
have complicated things substantially. I could hardly support myself,
let alone the two of us, and I had another year left to graduate (I ran up
$500 in credit card bills that week alone). She would have to go to
school herself, and I still have no idea if the LA school district would
have gone along with the idea. In any case, it would have meant
announcing to the world how old she was. Sooner or later, someone,
somewhere would have figured out that I was shacked up with my
sixteen-year-old cousin, and there was no telling where that would have
led. What was going on between us was legally statutory rape, don't
forget. And California doesn't let first cousins get married, so even
that insane option was out.
So at the end of the week, I put her on the bus back home, as
much as it hurt to do it. The image of her tear-streaked face pressed
against the bus window is going to be burned into my memory for a
long time.
Okay, I know what you must be wondering. This all happened
a year ago. What's going on now? You might have an inkling at this
point, and if you do, you're smarter than I was. Because, even though
it was the only logical outcome, I never saw it coming. I had expended
so much goddamned energy trying to keep Michelle from getting hurt
that I never gave a thought to whether I was going to get hurt myself.
Michelle wrote me almost every day for a month after she got
home. Neither of us could afford to burn up the long distance lines, so
we spent most of the time writing back and forth. The letters began to
slow down by August, but I still heard from her at least once or twice a
week. I threw away some more money and flew home for her
seventeenth birthday in September. I surprised her by showing up at
all, and with a gold charm bracelet I had engraved with "D+M." (What
can I say? I was in love with her.) Josie and Pete by now knew what
was going on, and apparently didn't care. There was another tearful
farewell at the airport when I left that weekend, and I began to think
that this long-distance relationship stuff might work after all.
But when I went back for Christmas that winter (loaded with
more expensive gifts for her that I couldn't afford), something wasn't
quite the same. She was definitely glad to see me, but these moments
kept cropping up when she would look conflicted over something and
wouldn't tell me what was wrong. When I left after New Years, she
seemed even more heartbroken over it than when she went home from
LA.
She wrote me a couple of times after that, but I didn't hear from
her for all of February. Then everything fell apart. In March I got a
long letter from her explaining how she still loved me, but she couldn't
stand my being so far away. She wanted to date other guys. She hoped
I didn't hate her for it. And so on.
I ran through a thousand possible responses. My visa was
maxed out, so I couldn't afford to fly back to Arkansas. If I tried to
drive back there, I would miss at least one midterm. Botching my
grades my last semester might cost me the job I had lined up. I wanted
to call her, but I wasn't ready to hear her tell me what she had said in
her letter.
So in the end, I wrote her back, explaining how I was about to
graduate and she could come out and live with me this summer. I
would have more money and we could afford to get a place together.
She called me a week later and essentially told me she was too young
for that kind of commitment. And that was about how we left it. I
wasn't going to beg her, and I didn't want her to stay with me because
she felt sorry for me.
The pain has lessened a bit in the last few months, but I still
think about her every day. I think about that bracelet probably sitting
untouched in the back of her jewelry box. I think about her making out
(or worse) with some zit-faced geek back home and I want to throw up.
And the stain of her defloration remains on my sheets, mocking me like
Lady Macbeth.
I realize now that I forgot how fickle and changeable your
emotions are when you're sixteen, how something can seem of deathly
importance now, but be no big deal a few months later. And that only
makes it hurt worse. Because although I know I really loved Michelle,
I can't quite be sure she really loved me, that it wasn't some teenage
infatuation brought on by too many episodes of "Baywatch."
I'm twenty-three now and I have a decent job. There are plenty
of girls I know who would probably go out with me. But I'm still dead
on the inside, and when I look at them, I only see her.
Part of me hasn't stopped hoping we can get back together,
maybe when she's a little older. But the rest of me knows it would
never work. I set myself up for this. If I'm really serious about
leaving that small-town Arkansas mind-set behind, I can't be screwing my
cousin, no matter how old she is.
It's ironic, you know? I scorned that town and its narrow-mindedness
for so long, thinking I was somehow better than all of
them. But I'm not. And I got burned by those very attitudes I've spat
on for most of my life.
I still love her. I really do.
But I'm never going back there again.