A Cousin Alone
Copyright© 2013 by Cotton Nightie
Romantic Sex Story: Day 1 - Continuing immediately after Cousins at Christmas, this story introduces my best friend, "BF". After a heartbreaking mistake on my part, we struggle to find a new balance as she forces me to reevaluate my relationship with her and with my boyfriend. I refuse to give either one of them up, but that decision isn't entirely mine to make. Find out if I can hold on to them both in A Cousin Alone.
We are who we are, tall or small,
And carry our secrets one and all.
We hold them tight, though they burn and gall,
And only release them when we fall.
- from A Journey Between Up and Down, A. Lee
I wrote a very explicit and raw account of about how I met my boyfriend and we began our relationship in the old locking journal I got as a gift when I was 12 or so. It thought it fitting to use a part of my childhood to write its epitaph and explore what I view as my first adult relationship. That story filled the old journal up, so I got a new one. This journal is much more suited to my age, noticeably missing the pictures of unicorns and glittery hearts. After all, unicorns run from me now that I lack the virtue of maidenhood.
I'd like to start this first entry by talking about the one person who missed out on my poignant transition to adulthood over Christmas; my Best Friend. You know how all the pretty, popular girls have a quiet mousey friend? I'm hers. She is tall, thin, and beautiful; daring and bold; everything I enjoy about her but would never really want for myself.
In eighth grade, she and I had practiced kissing each other before we tried it with boys. By the end of that school year, she'd lost her virginity to a high school boy. When we were 16, she dragged me around as her barely-willing wing woman and designated driver to college parties. Many times I got late night calls and texts to loan her money, pick her up or drive her places. Mom didn't understand and always thought she was using me, but truly, I loved her dearly. I know that all the times I needed her, she dropped everything to help me. That's what Best Friends do.
I have always called her BF between ourselves, and since high school she has always called me VV. As in Vestal Virgin; a priestess of Vesta, goddess of the hearth and home. VV's were also prominently featured in one one of our favorite movies, Mel Brook's History of the World, Part I. "Don't you know VV's are not allowed outside the palace without an escort?"
I got a text from BF on New Years Day announcing that she was back. She had already heard about my hot cousin visiting over Christmas and wanted to come over for dinner to discuss every juicy detail. She had missed meeting him because her family went to Vermont to go skiing over Christmas. I texted her back a confirmation and smiled to myself at the thought of her reaction to my recent change in status.
She arrived late, of course, wearing a black suede skirt and jacket over a low cut white blouse. Her entrance was full of jangling jewelry, purse swinging, hugs and kisses for me and Mom. She smelled of cigarette smoke, wine and Chanel, which seemed somehow glamorous and made her appear ageless rather than someone as young as I.
We chatted for a bit, and then Mom left us alone as she went to clean up the dinner we'd been forced to eat without her because of her late arrival. BF and I retreated to my room where she dropped her purse, kicked off her shoes and climbed into my bed to sit cross legged. Her leather skirt was hiked up and I could see she was wearing some kind of garter and stockings with black lace panties.
She launched into a story about her adventures in a Vermont hotel bar with a cute guy who talked her into a threesome. When they got back to the room, the other party turned out to be a diminutive brunette in high heels wearing a giant strap-on dildo. She laughed recalling how the man insisted that he eat BF out while he was being ass fucked by the brunette. Never to miss a new experience, she agreed, but he ended up too drunk to continue and passed out half way through with his ass up in the air. She finished the night sitting around naked with the brunette, sipping vodka and making out.
When she finished her story, she looked at me and said, "Ok VV, spill."
I said, "Well, technically, you can't call me that any more," and raised my eyebrow at her.
Her jaw dropped and she fell backwards against the wall. She said, "Shut the Front Door, who was it?"
I picked up my phone and pulled up the picture I had secretly taken while he was sitting with me on the couch. She stared for a moment, then said, "I have no idea who this is, but Darling, you have very good taste. Tell me everything!"
I stuck my right pinky out. She knew what that meant; it was our secret handshake. We had only ever used it for her, because only she had ever had dangerous secrets. She blinked and looked at my hand, then back up at me. Her mouth opened wide and she whispered, "Oh My God, it was your cousin?"
I said, "Nothing until you swear; This is serious business." So she gave me her pinky.
I took my old locking journal down from the shelf and held it close to my chest. I said, "This will take a while to read, but it should answer most of your questions. I'll make us some tea."
When I came back with our tea, she was lying on the bed with the book, reading intently. She put it down for a moment and looked at me and said, "I only have three things to say: You are a gifted author, I need to finish this alone or we will both be embarrassed, and I'll need to borrow some dry panties."
I burst out laughing as I closed the door. Then I sat at my desk and looked at her over my warm cup of tea. She said, "I'm serious, I will do it." I just grinned and leaned back in the chair and put one foot on the edge of the bed, daring her.
She lay back with the book on her breasts, holding it with her left hand. Her right hand slowly pulled up her skirt. She raised her far knee to tip her hips forward, and I realized those black panties had no crotch. Her fingertips moved the fabric aside and I could see her pink inner lips.
Now, BF is a confirmed bisexual, and while I'm strictly hetero, if there were one woman in the world I would sleep with it would be her. She had an electric sexual appeal that seemed to transcend gender. Even when we were in eighth grade, I admit I enjoyed our kissing practice, but I'd always feared to put my fingers in the fire. Watching her fingers, and knowing my own fire more intimately now, I began to reconsider my decision.
I rolled my desk chair over to the bed. She was still reading, but saw me watching her closely. I swirled my finger in my warm tea. She opened her legs more fully when she removed her fingers to turn the page. On impulse, I licked the tea off my finger, and then slid my warmed fingers between her protruding inner lips.
She jumped like she'd been shocked, and our eyes met, hers in surprise, mine in mischief. She relaxed into the bed and I began to draw circles in her wet opening, moving the crotchless panties out of the way, and opening her lips fully. She tried to keep reading, but her hips began to move rhythmically as if begging me to move faster, but I kept the pace teasingly slow. She read, but would sometimes close her eyes for a moment to enjoy the sensation, then read some more.
I felt light-headed and cold in my stomach. It almost felt like I was watching someone else's hand touching her intimately. Her lips were different than mine, somewhat longer looking, but even softer somehow. Her mons was entirely bald, which never appealed to me personally. I keep myself well trimmed, but the idea that the feminine ideal should be an aspect of a child's body did not set well with me. I liked my furry pet, but as I touched her now slippery mons, I could see the attraction.
Her breathing deepened and I kept stimulating her slowly, keeping her from reaching her peak. She must have read something good, because she smiled and said, "Oh you dirty, dirty girl," I rewarded her with a little faster swirl around her most sensitive spot and she gasped, then shuddered and I could feel her pulsing at my touch. I returned to my slow pace, sliding around the edges. She sighed, but kept reading.
Her scent began to fill the room, a musky scent that seemed to be a more intimate version of the personal scent of hers I'd come to know over the years. I resisted the temptation to taste her; I was already going too far for my own comfort, but it was suddenly a serious temptation. I became aware of my own arousal and shifted uncomfortably in the chair.
At another point she started rocking her hips and again, I waited. She said, "For a girl with no experience, you seem to have learned some of my favorite tricks." I rewarded her diligence with another swirl around her now swollen nub. She sucked air in and held her breath as she pushed into my hand, so I increased the pace slightly. Another pulsing shudder and I slowed my pace, leaving her on the edge. She opened her eyes and read some more.
My fingers were slick with her wetness. That light-headed sense of distance I'd felt before was fading as I became more and more uncomfortable with the reality of what I was doing. It would be awkward to just stop, but I began to worry I was already too far over the line. When I was honest with myself, I had to admit I'd always sensed her attraction to me, but I kept firm boundaries against it. While I was making a mess of her, I was afraid I was making a mess of other things, too. Still, I wanted to finish what I started.
When she started to get to the end of the story, I slid my middle finger into her deeply, found the spot I was looking for and began to make circles with my thumb on her most sensitive spot, sliding round and round. She made a low noise and bit her lip. I saw her turn the page and increased the tempo, watching her struggle between her need to find out more and her need to let herself go. She closed her eyes for a moment and made a long, low moan as she finally peaked, and then panted as she opened her eyes and continued to read.
I was glad to finally remove my sticky fingers knowing that she would soon be reading the part that was hardest for me to write, the part where Mom and I spoke. I wiped my fingers on a tissue. Her mouth opened in surprise at the ending and I saw her tears pool in her eyes. At the end she said, "I am truly sorry I wasn't here."
Then she sat up, put her arms around me and kissed me.
I fully intended to keep the kiss chaste, but BF had other plans. Her tongue teased my lips open and darted in to touch my tongue, drawing it out of hiding into her mouth and sucked it gently. She tasted of smoke, wine and lust. The forbidden nature of the kiss and my own reticence was battling with my growing arousal.
I kissed her more forcefully as my body responded to her lips. She ran her fingers up my neck and into my hair, then gripped my hair into her fist and pulled my head back. It hurt, but then she immediately began to lick my neck along my jaw which seemed to cross-circuit my brain and I felt my nipples grow hard.
She pulled me backwards onto my bed by my hair, licking down my neck and then put her other hand between my thighs to grip me, hard, pushing her fingers against my crotch, dragging me out of the chair. "You don't know all my tricks yet, Darling," she said with a growl as the desk chair fell over.
She released my hair and then held me down, pressing her hand between my breasts while I tried to push her off me. She pulled at the waistband of my sweatpants with her other hand. I began to panic, but before I could offer real resistance, her hand slid past my underwear to cup my wetness and press hard against my mons. Her fingers moved roughly, spreading me, invading me, while she bent to kiss me and then bite hard at my lower lip.
I was confused, angry, and scared. She was violating me, but I felt like I was seconds from release. I couldn't get the leverage to push her off me. She moved her mouth down, teeth grazing past my chin, the hand holding me down now forced my shirt up, her teeth pulling at the catch of my bra, between my breasts. Her hand in my underwear was forcing both it and my sweatpants down past my knees.
The bra clasp tore open and her lips and teeth pulled at one aching nipple, then the other, trailing saliva. I felt electric shocks everywhere she touched me. As she kissed me lower I finally got my hands free and was able to reach her. I ran my hands into her hair, but rather than throwing her off, I forced her face into my wet. I was completely undone, out of my mind with anger and heat.
When she saw what I was doing, she stopped fighting me and took my inner lips into her mouth, pulling hard. I arched my back, pulling at the back of her head, trying to force her tongue into me. She licked at me like she was crazed, pulling my sweatpants completely off and pushing my legs up and opening me roughly. She gripped my thighs and forced her tongue down into me, using her whole face to rub me, her fingers pressing hard inside me.
I only just managed to control my cry when she forced me into my release. I was so lost to myself, and the release so intense, that I wet my bed and sprayed her face, but she never stopped. She shifted me onto the bed like I was weightless and ripped her own blouse open. She wore no bra and her nipples looked sharp enough to cut steel.
She dove at me, but I met her half-way, our teeth clicked together, pinching my lip as we kissed. Blood smears appeared where I kissed her, but I didn't care. I didn't even think, I just tried to eat her. Neck, breasts, stomach and down, down, down, my bloody mouth covering her mound, my tongue and fingers probing and pulling. I lifted her hips high, ripped the crotchless panties open, spread her ass cheeks and licked her dirty hole while my thumb mashed at her nub. She tried to move away, but I had a better hold and she could not escape.
She turned her head and shouted her release into my pillow, her body bucked and rocked as I mercilessly forced her to submit, forced her to release herself again and again into my gaping mouth. It was done. She stopped resisting, stopped moving. My breath came in ragged pants.
Mom called from the kitchen, "Are you girls doing okay?"
I responded hoarsely, "Doing fine, Mom. Doing just fine.""
BF lay with her eyes shut for a long time. I tried to put my clothes back together, with tears pouring down my face, my nose running, my lip bleeding drops that fell on my hands and floor. I found my panties and sweatpants wadded up in the corner, so I crawled over to them and sat down. I was utterly disgusted at myself, at what I'd done, even as my fading passion reminded me that my body had other thoughts on the matter. I wiped at my bloody lip to try to stop the bleeding.
BF said, "I've wanted that my whole life."
I said, "I hope you choke on it, you bitch."
BF just laughed and rolled over. "You don't even know who you are, VV. You've lived in your pristine world, fell in love with your perfect guy, then thought you'd dip your fingers into my heat without getting burned? Like now that some guy filled your cunny, you know all about love? Well, I've loved you longer and better than he ever will, and when you have your little vanilla wedding night fantasy, you'll remember this night and wish he was me!"
I could say nothing. I covered my ears with my hands. I knew she loved me, but I'd never allowed her past a safe distance. My impulsive decision to cross that line with her left her wounded, angry. The story of my happiness was a poison to her. I could only imagine loving someone for years, discovering they've found happiness with someone else, and only then being given a taste of what would be forever lost. There were no words to repair this.
BF sat up and started putting her own clothes in order. She put on her shoes, picked up her purse and stared down at me coldly.
She cried, "We could have had this for years! After you kissed me, when we were girls, you knew I loved you then. You joked about it, but you knew, and you didn't care. And once I realized I couldn't have you, it really didn't matter who had me, did it?" Tears were streaming from her eyes, but her pain was beyond crying.
"Sit down, wait, please." I begged. I had to find some way to fix this.
She shook her head. "No. I need to be alone tonight."
She shut the door behind her when she left.