Chapter 1

For all considered intents and purposes, it had started as an ordinary December just like any other, with the exception that the absence of snow made it particularly lacking in the area of Christmas Season atmosphere.

Cindi Sweetly checked her purse the hundredth time just to feel the coins and folded notes inside the velvet case. The simple truth was that it never failed to calm her skittish nerves on the cold, greyish skied streets filled with lower classes rushing in every direction to find a last-minute gift. Cindi had vowed to not get into that brand of foolishness this year as proof that she was finally an adult and had put away her unwanted childish glee at the thought of toys and candy. The passing of her often-in-his-cups father and the terrible crippled hands of her arthritic mother had put the burden of finding income for their meager existence with the added stress of her younger sixteen year old sister Mary with her romantic notions of finding her soul-mate above any other hidden urge including the mundane needs of survival at a time when good folk were starving all around them.

There were only scattered remnants of the fresh green country trees on her roped-off lot now and that was a very good thing because it was only two short days to the happiest day of the year. She sold a little runt of a tree to an old woman and a sniffling young lad with strong enough arms to carry it off to their tiny city apartment like hunters returning from an expedition into the darkest depths of the forest and not merely the benign Christmas tree lot around the corner.

For those of you that are interested in such matters, young Cindi was still technically a virgin, but she had been “through the mill” in terms of fending off assorted uncles and cousins and total strangers all looking for a sample of her personal dignity just to quell their understandable need for instant gratification in a harsh and demanding world. The closest she came to actually “giving it up” was the silly journey to the seaside with her family and her aunt and uncle from a small coastal village with more stones on their beach than actual sand. They had all piled into the decrepit selling cart with more thought to not being left behind than any notion of being comfortable whilst they got there. Somehow, Cindi had been deposited onto a perch atop of her Cousin George’s lap with little thought as to the normal instincts of a plump bottom rubbing on an instrument of hopeful youth without any vestige of conscience about filial relationships or feminine constraint.

Cindi was not upset by the probing intrusion into her private world of bubbly unconcern. That does sound a bit strange, but she had been well acquainted with the fumbling attempts of seduction by males of all ages to test her resolve in resisting such temptations even in the most inconceivable situations that bordered on the ridiculous. She had successfully defended her female private parts against one and all albeit with less enthusiasm when the interloper was both handsome and young. She had even survived a “ride” of similar nature in a coach filled with strange farm laborers unable to even converse in the King’s English. The memory of that exciting trip had caused her to replicate the arousal in the privacy of her corner cot at home with her face turned into the crumbling wall so her family could not see the lust in her eyes or the taste of passion on her tongue. The size of the laborer’s equipment led her to believe that working men were more likely to have the most satisfying tools but the lure of an actual gentleman venturing into her uncharted territories filled her with a pulse-pounding wave of female foolishness that had her grabbing for a safe place to sit before she sank down like some swooning strumpet with the dreaded vapors.

Her red-faced cousin George on the day of the outing was in such a stiffened state that she was reminded of the farm worker with his huge tool working diligently in her garden of female delight. It was impertinence to be sure, but the tongue-tied fellow could not be denied his day in the sun and in all honesty, Cindi had to admit the length and girth of his intrusion was enough to convince her that she should get married sooner rather than later, if such private interactions were a nightly occurrence. She remembered distinctly that the rude fellow had totally wetted her undergarments with his offerings, but she found the sensation of her now damp undies obscenely plastered to her nether regions was surprisingly arousing in a covert and guilt-free expression of feminine independence. The powerful scent of the male emission was in some way a trigger to her internal release of female liquids and she knew afterwards with certainty when she was in close proximity to such deposits just from the way it tickled her nostrils.

As she bounced on her cousin’s lap, Cindi was reminded of that other experiment and she adjusted her skirts so that they were not between her bloomers and George’s rampant hardness hoping her actions would not be construed as wanton by her handsome family relation. After a few hard jolts over some potholes, George was firmly lodged deep between her cheeks and his more than adequate equipment extended all the way to the rear portion of her feminine slot with ease. She rode him skillfully and did her best to squeeze him with her inner muscles just like she heard the housewives brag about their husband’s inability to resist the need to release their offerings in the face of such feminine bravado.

George’s chin was on her shoulder and she knew he was fully engaged because of the way his mouth was slightly open and she could hear him panting like a thirsty dog each time she rose and fell on his manly shaft.

She whispered in his ear,

“This is lovely, George dearest, thank you for filling your cousin’s journey with some exciting moments of togetherness.”

He smiled and replied,

“It is of no consequence, Cousin Cindi. I have longed to explore your pretty bum for ever so long. You must not feel any sense of filial guilt because I was adopted by your aunt and uncle when my parents died and we are not really related except in name and circumstance.”

Cindi relaxed at those words because she was somewhat concerned over the family relationship. Now that she knew he was not really her cousin, she was able to release her passion and she trembled on his shaft like some silly schoolgirl allowing an older boy to gain more knowledge about elusive female anatomy. She was certain exactly when George released his passion from the way his thick shaft expanded inside her crack and felt the touch of his lips on her neck and ear well out of sight of the other passengers. The tip of his tongue ran softly along her ear lobe and she knew he would soon be nibbling on her soft flesh like a hungry animal searching for her most defenseless spot. Her inner legs were wet with her juices and she could feel the weight of his spunk on her bloomers like some spreading of butter or jam on a slice of bread.