Caution: This Romantic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Consensual, Cheating, Incest, Cousins, Oral Sex, Masturbation,
Desc: Romantic Sex Story: Chapter 1 - As kids, Ed and Jen had lots of fun together. Most of it innocent, some of it a little naughty. Years later, when fate puts them back together on a cross-country road trip, will they have some more adult fun?
As kids, my cousin Jen and I were close. We were near the same age, just six months apart. We were actually second cousins — our mothers were first cousins, who'd been as close as sisters when they were growing up.
So we spent a lot of time at their house, and they spent a lot of time at ours. Lots of backyard barbeques, Easter dinners, birthday celebrations, etc.
Our parents liked to get together and throw back a few cold beverages when they got together, and so there wasn't a lot of parental supervision going on. As little kids, of course, our play was innocent childhood fun.
As we got a bit older, and approached our "tween" years, Jen and I played the games that many opposite-sex friends/relatives do about that time. We played "doctor," using it as a chance to put our hands on each other.
We played "I'll show you mine if you show me yours," dropping our pants and giving each other quick flashes of our genitals. I didn't know what I was looking at, anyway, and wouldn't have known what to do with it!
We even acted out scenes from shows like "The A-Team" and "Dukes of Hazzard," using phony action scenes as excuses to roll over onto each other on Jen's pink-quilted bed. Quick, fleeting touches here and there, and we stole a couple of kisses too, giggling like fools afterwards.
We were the very epitome of "the innocence of youth."
As we grew into our high school years, we started to drift apart. She lived in a different school district than I did, so we made our own friends, lived our own lives. We still saw each other at family functions — weddings, funerals — and I couldn't help but notice that she'd turned into a beautiful young woman.
At a relative's wedding, when we were about 16 or so, Jen was one of the "junior bridesmaids." I remember sitting in the church, staring at Jen the entire time. Her light green dress was cut low in the front, and it was the first time I'd ever seen Jen with cleavage.
Maybe she noticed my stares, because at the reception's receiving line, she embraced me in a hug that seemed to last longer than any of the other hugs I'd endured that night! I luxuriated in the feel of her soft breasts pressing into my chest; but at the same time, I tried to keep my hips from contacting her midsection, wanting to conceal the sudden boner I'd developed!
Certainly that night, and on probably a couple of other occasions, I masturbated thinking of my sexy cousin. But for the most part, we weren't a part of each other's lives in our teen years, and as we both graduated and headed off to colleges in different parts of the country, we lost touch completely.
About 4 or 5 years after I graduated college, I reconnected with Jen on Facebook. My mom had kept me informed about family happenings of course, and she'd told me about Jen's wedding a couple of years back. I was now living on the other side of the country, in San Francisco, and it hadn't been practical to get back to Atlanta for the wedding. My mom bought the newlyweds a gift "from me," signing my name to the card.
Jen and I chatted and got to know each other, this time as adults, on Facebook. As luck would have it, she'd married a guy who was a computer programmer, same industry as me. Several months after we reconnected, she told me how unhappy he was in his job, and how they were looking to move somewhere to make a fresh start.
I suggested the Bay Area (somewhat jokingly at first), and then told Jen that my company was always looking for quality code monkeys. That led to me friending her husband Mike on Facebook as well, which led to him sending me a resume, which led to him flying out to SF for an interview with my bosses.
I invited Mike to stay with me while he was in San Francisco, and we got to know each other over a few beers while he decompressed from his interview. He told me about the questions the bosses had asked, and I gave him my honest assessment of his chances. I thought they were pretty good.
Turns out I was right; they called him the next week and offered him a job. Three weeks later, he was living in San Francisco in a temporary apartment while Jen stayed behind in Atlanta to pack up their house and arrange for its sale. She kept me informed of the progress via email and text messages, and I was pretty psyched that they'd be living in the Bay Area.
About a month after Mike moved to The City, we met up for happy hour at a bar near our office. He told me things were going well (we worked in different departments, so I didn't see him too much at work). Then he asked me for a favor.
"Ed, if I bought you a plane ticket, would you fly out to Atlanta and drive back here with Jen? We got a great offer on the house today, but the buyers want to close SOON — like next Tuesday. I'm still in my 90-day probationary, so I can't take any time off yet."
I thought about his offer. I had plenty of vacation time available, and flying into Atlanta would allow me to spend the weekend with my parents, visit some old friends, and then Jen and I could leave on Tuesday. The drive from Atlanta to San Francisco was a bear, about 40 hours total. I'd only done it once, when I moved here, and wasn't eager to do it again. Still, with someone else in the car, it would be more fun than driving solo.
Mike interrupted my reverie and continued. "Jen insists she's fine to drive it by herself, but I think she only says that because she knows I can't really take the time off. I think she'd be grateful to have your company."
With that, I agreed. Mike even paid for my beers!
That night, Jen called me, and she did seem quite grateful. "It'll be lots of fun," she said. "If you say so," I said, the uncertainty plain in my voice.
"You'll see," Jen said. "I'll make it fun."
Over the next day or so we worked out the details of the trip. I arranged for the entire week off from work, which wasn't a problem. I hardly ever took vacation time.
As promised, Mike bought my plane ticket. I'd fly on a redeye from SFO to ATL on Friday night, cab it to my folks' place, and spend the weekend with them. Monday, I'd visit with some old friends, just take it easy.
Tuesday, Jen had the closing at 8 in the morning, then she'd swing by and pick me up immediately afterwards, and we'd hit the road. I asked her if she wanted to drive straight through, or overnight it along the way once or twice. She said we'd "play it by ear."
Everything went according to plan, and mid-morning Tuesday, I was rattling around my parents' empty house (they both still worked), making sure I'd repacked everything, when I heard a knock at the door.
I opened it and suddenly found myself with two armfuls full of Jen. "The house is sold, it's sold, it's sold!" she said joyously, kissing me on the cheek. I could feel two hard nipples pressing into my chest, and a lot of childhood feelings suddenly swam over me.
I held her at arms' length. "Let me get a look at you," I said.
At 27, Jen still looked much like she had in her high school days. Long, wavy brown hair cascaded down her back, the color matching her deep brown eyes. She stood about 5'7" in the sandals she was wearing today, and was slim without being skinny.
She was wearing a pair of yellow soccer-style shorts that showed off her long legs, and a ribbed white tank top that clearly had nothing beneath it. The aforementioned nipples were trying to poke their way out.
"You look great," I said. "But that's an interesting outfit for a lawyer's office. Weren't you cold?"
Jen laughed. "No, mother, I wasn't. Besides, I didn't wear this for the closing. I wore a perfectly respectable pantsuit. But then I had to stop at the gym to cancel my membership, and I still had these clothes in my locker. I figured I should be comfortable for the drive, right?"
I nodded. "Absolutely. And besides, it's hot out there." Atlanta in May, while more pleasant than Atlanta in August, was still pretty warm.
I grabbed my bag, locked the house, and we headed out to the driveway. Jen's car, a late-model Toyota RAV4 was parked there, and it looked like it would be a pretty comfortable ride.
I threw my bag in the back of the SUV, among all of Jen's clutter, and she handed me the keys. "You're driving first shift," she said. "I need to paint my toenails."
As I navigated the Atlanta beltway and finally got on I-20, heading west, Jen and I chatted about the house, Mike's new job, and what it was going to be like for them living in San Francisco.
True to her word, about 5 minutes into the drive, she slipped off her sandals and started working on her toes. She propped her feet on the dash and painted her toes a bright red. I tried to keep my eyes on the road, and my mind on our conversation, but both were wandering.
I found myself glancing at the right-side mirror a lot more than usual, giving my eyes many chances to gaze at her long, smooth legs. The position caused the hem of her shorts to slip a bit, and as she painted the toes of her left foot, her entire leg was exposed, including a generous portion of her hip.
She left both feet on the dash until her freshly-hued toes were dry. We continued chatting as the highway passed from Georgia into Alabama.
I'd set the cruise control at a respectable 80 miles per hour, and my right foot was off the pedals, my knee resting against the center console. Suddenly, there was a soft hand caressing that knee, and I struggled to keep the car in the lane as my mouth went dry in a second.
"Ed, do you remember all the games we used to play as kids," Jen asked slyly, her fingers tracing light circles over my kneecap.
I swallowed hard before answering, trying to keep a tremor out of my voice, trying to keep things light and cool. "What, you mean like Nintendo and stuff?" I asked, smiling.
Jen chuckled. "Well, that wasn't exactly what I meant," she said, her left hand sliding upwards from my knee, tracing over my lower thigh.
I tried to suppress the soft moan that suddenly overtook me, but I think Jen heard it. I could feel my cock swelling in my shorts, and I risked looking away from the road for a couple of seconds. Jen's brown eyes met my own.
"I remember everything, Jen. Everything we did, everything we didn't do, everything I wanted to do. Everything."
Her mouth quirked up in a smile, and I returned my eyes, if not my full attention, to the road. We drove in silence as Jen's hand continued wandering over my upper leg. Her soft fingers moved from my knee, over my thigh and hip, tickling under the hem of my khaki shorts for a moment, then moving on top of the fabric, dancing lightly along the pocket line and the zipper. Unconsciously, I spread my thighs further apart for her.
When she turned her fingers inward and cupped my balls, her thumb stroking lightly over the shaft of my cock, even through two layers of fabric, it felt heavenly. I didn't suppress the moan this time.
So, it's going to be that kind of trip, I thought to myself. I can't wait until it's Jen's turn to drive!
Over the next couple of hours, as we drove through Birmingham and then towards Mississippi, this pattern continued. Jen didn't keep her hands on me the entire time; sometimes, she'd remove her hand when I needed to disengage the cruise control, needed to use my right leg on the gas and the brake pedals.
Other times, she'd change CDs for us, or answer a phone call, or do something else. But always, her hand would return to my lap, and we'd both be strangely silent as she caressed me, the only sound my infrequent moan of pleasure. My cock was hard as steel now, pushing out obscenely from the front of my shorts.
We'd been on the road for about four hours when we stopped at a McDonald's somewhere near the Alabama/Mississippi border. After lunch and a quick bathroom break, we headed back out to the parking lot. "I'll take a turn at the wheel for a while," Jen offered.
I smiled and handed her the keys.
We got back on the highway, and as soon as it was safe to do so, I saw Jen set the cruise control. Her right knee rested against the center console as mine had. Trying not to seem too eager, I rested my hand lightly against her kneecap. The smooth softness of her skin, and the illicitness of what I was doing (this was my cousin! and another man's wife!) quickly brought me to full arousal once again.
I wasn't sure how far to take this, how far Jen wanted to go. After all, she was the married one — I was single, unattached, no responsibilities to anyone else. So I followed her lead.
My hand traced a pattern on her leg, mimicking how she had touched me. Sliding over that amazingly soft skin, my fingers tickled at her flesh. I moved my hand from her kneecap, up her inner thigh, and along the hemline of her shorts, sliding to the outside of her leg and caressing her hip there.
She huffed in frustration when I removed my hand to change the radio station or adjust my sun visor. But her soft skin was too tempting, and I was never able to keep my hand off her for very long.
Eventually, the widening of her thighs emboldened me, and I moved my hand between them. The backs of my knuckles passed over her mound, and she moaned louder as I pressed firmly against her center, rotating in small circles.
We'd only been back on the road for half an hour or so when Jen pulled off the highway to a rest area. "Potty break," she said apologetically, grabbing her purse and heading inside. I didn't need to go (and in my current state of arousal, would have been unable to go), so I sat inside the idling car and waited.
Jen was back in just a couple of minutes. Tossing her purse into the back, she got back on the road. When the cruise control was set, my hand returned to her thigh.
When my fingers once again traveled between her thighs, pressing against her pubic area, I instantly knew something was different. I could feel her warmth much more evidently now, the heat radiating through her thin shorts, and I realized she'd taken off her panties at the last stop.
"Jen, you naughty, naughty girl," I said, my voice a bit shaky.
She chuckled nervously, and somehow managed to spread her thighs even wider. I continued my explorations, and when I slid two fingers inside the hemline of her shorts, she said only one word.
My cock throbbing in my shorts, I loosened my seatbelt and turned sideways in my seat so I could use my right hand, rather than my left. I slid my hand up her thigh, fingers dipping underneath her shorts. The shorts were loose enough that it was a simple matter to keep sliding my fingers higher and higher, and I think we both moaned as my fingertips slid onto her pelvis.
I pushed my fingers farther, touching a tuft of soft hair, and Jen pushed her hips towards my finger. I looked up at her; her eyes were firmly fixated on the road, her hands clenching the wheel, and her nipples were hard as diamonds and pushing out from her tank top.
She gasped loudly when my index finger passed over her hard clit, and I slid it downwards, feeling her warm wet lips. I slid my finger up and down through her lips gently, touching her clit again on every third or fourth upstroke. I teased her, often stopping my motion altogether, but I never pulled my hand back out of her shorts.
Eventually, I slid my finger inside her, just a tiny bit, not even to the first knuckle. The angle was awkward, and she was tight, but very, very wet.
I slid my finger in and out of her with tiny strokes. After a few minutes, she spoke again, through gritted teeth. "I need you to keep doing that," she breathed. "But I'm also going to kill us if you do so. Please, please stop moving until I can get off. I mean off the highway."
We both chuckled at the double entendre. But I obeyed her request, and kept my hand perfectly still. My palm was resting on her pubic hair, my index finger resting against her clit, the tip just inside her.
The next exit finally appeared within a few miles, though it felt like a few hundred miles. She pulled off at a rural exit, somewhere in the middle of Mississippi. There was nothing at this exit except for a gas station and a boarded-up feed store.
"There," I said, pointing at the feed store with the hand that wasn't currently in Jen's crotch. As she pulled around the backside of the store, out of view from the road, I started moving my hand again, rubbing against her clit and thrusting my finger into her.
Jen skidded the SUV to a stop on the gravel parking lot and threw the transmission into park. Not even bothering to turn off the ignition, she threw off her seatbelt and clutched at me, trying to draw my face to hers.
As I scrambled to undo my own seatbelt, Jen reclined her seat, pushing it almost all the way flat. I kept my finger inside her, moving it deeper into her now, helped by her body's new angle.
Kneeling on my own seat, I leaned over Jen, my mouth meeting hers in our first kiss in nearly two decades. As our tongues met and we moaned into each other's mouth, I added a second finger to the molten vise of her pussy, and her moan became a shriek.
Faster and faster I pumped into her, my cock an iron bar trapped between my belly and the car's center console. I removed my mouth from hers and watched as her head rolled against the seat, her eyes squeezed tightly shut. My eyes were drawn to her heaving breasts.
Heedless of the awkward angle, I slid my left arm over the console, my right hand still fucking her pussy faster and faster. I roughly pulled her tank top upwards, exposing her right breast to my gaze. It was perfect, round and firm, her nipple long and erect. I felt Jen's pussy contract around my fingers, a fresh gush of moisture allowing me to thrust my fingers even faster.
I leaned back over and took her nipple into my mouth, rolling it with my tongue, nipping at it with my lips. Vaguely, I was aware of her pulling up her shirt the rest of the way, one hand pinching at her other nipple, the other tangled in my hair. Over and over, she was now moaning, "Ed Ed Ed Ed..."
I pressed my hand flatter against her pussy, fingers still thrusting into her, palm tighter against her pubic mound, the base of my hand now constantly rubbing her clit.
"Ed, oh Ed, oh I'm going to oh--mffffgg." I cut off her moans by moving my mouth back over her own, and shoved my fingers faster and deeper into her warm pussy. She shrieked into my mouth and tore her face away as her climax burst upon her.
Her cunt tightened around my fingers like a vise, and I thrust into her harder, feeling her muscles clench and release, clench and release, her orgasm splashing down over my fingers and hand.
As the intensity of her moans lessened, I slowed the thrusting of my fingers, and eventually came to a stop. I looked down at Jen. Her eyes were still closed, her tank top still rucked up over her chest, breasts still heaving, the left one still clenched in her own hand.
Very slowly, I withdrew my fingers from her now-sensitive pussy and out of her shorts, and rested my hand on her thigh, my fingers slick.
Jen finally opened her eyes and looked at me, a blush creeping over her pale skin. "That was ... wow. I don't even know what to say."
Before I could answer, an 18-wheeler rattled down the local road in front of the feed store, and I realized maybe we weren't as private as we thought. Jen realized the same thing, and quickly pulled her tank top down. As she brought the seat back up to the regular position, she looked at me. "I guess — I guess we should get back on the road? Do you mind driving for a while?"
"No, of course not," I said, still keenly aware of my rock-hard erection.
As we crossed behind the car to trade seats, Jen suddenly wrapped me in a hug, her pelvis pressed against my cock. Her breath was hot in my ear when she whispered, "I — I love, you Ed."
"I love you too, Jen," I said automatically.
In silence, we got back in the car, buckled up, and I drove us back on the highway. Jen rested her head against the doorframe and was asleep within 5 minutes, snoring softly.
When I was sure she was sleeping, I brought the two fingers of my right hand to my nose, and inhaled deeply. The scent of Jen filled my brain, and my cock throbbed in my pants.