My parents were both well educated, upper-middle-class professionals who had, for the most part, succeeded at much in life. Still, they remained human beings and were troubled with their own relationship issues from time to time. I was vaguely aware that they were having one of their "spats" and that my visiting my aunt's place in the country was perhaps less for my enjoyment than it was for their convenience. That was all right with me, for as a fifteen-year-old boy, I was looking forward to the vacation and the greater freedom I knew I'd have on my aunt's farm.

My aunt Agnes, my mother's younger sister, had lived a completely different life than my mother. As attractive and intelligent, she'd not been driven by any personal gadfly to "do well at life." She had stayed on her parent's farm, married young and had a large family. Her near-do-well husband had suffered the fatal consequences of chronic alcoholism and died young from a massive gastrointestinal bleed. The household ran well, governed by a curious set of firm, even rigid guide lines that operated hand-in-hand with a certain relaxed, laissez-faire attitude. My aunt's family had nearly equal boys and girls, but several of the girls were clustered together in age, right around my own.

My time on the farm is better described as a "working vacation," for there were lots of routine chores to be finished each day which, when coupled to the seasonal planting-harvesting cycle, were time-consuming. We kids were expected to do our part and were often thrown into close working proximity by these agricultural demands. Consequently, I enjoyed an accelerated intimacy with the cousins who were my age... girls, as it turned out.

In retrospect, my interest in things sexual dated back to age five or so. I didn't know that it was sexual. I didn't know what sex was. What I did know was that I was interested in girls. Or more correctly, I was interested in girls' bodies. I knew it was forbidden and that made it all the more sexy. By age nine or ten I certainly knew about sex. By age twelve my interests and desires had progressed that, in recognition of my late physical development, I was alarmed that the other boys could get off and I couldn't... yet. But by age fourteen or fifteen, the testosterone storm has just started. Riding the up slope of ascendency of my bursting horniness, I was almost besides myself with the proximity of my female cousins.

Over the years, I had some sexual contact or another with each of my cousins, but I'd like to tell you of one that I hold as particularly poignant and erotic.

Her nick name was Tookey. She was sweet, fair and even tempered. Just a year or so before, she'd been a stick of a little girl who was permitted to wear only her little-girl white underpants when we went to the swimming hole. I retain an image of her, blond hair streaming as she emerged from the water, no breasts, and wet, translucent panties. The darker outline of her female slit was so prominent that even then, I felt a sexual lurch.

Suddenly, Tookey was no longer a little girl. Seemingly overnight, her hips had broadened and her breasts were mature. Her older sisters all wore bras but she rebelled. Hyper aware as I was of those things, I constantly maneuvered to watch her breasts sway beneath her T-shirt or to delight in the tumescence of her nipples.

Her nipples were remarkable. Stimulated by mood, temperature or contact, they'd spring out, prominent and hard, visible often through relatively concealing clothes. I was taken with Tookey and taken with her breasts. It may have been her innocence or perhaps her demure personality, but it was not apparent to me that she even noted my interest. She remained open and free around me, never turning away or holding her shirt to her chest. When we'd work together, I'd frequently have the opportunity to look down the front of her shirt, or, if a button-front shirt, to see the under swell of her breasts as the shirt gaped open. Because she was only thirteen at the time and certainly an innocent, I restricted my licentious actions. I looked but I didn't touch... at least then.

It makes sense to me now that she was a sexual time-bomb and my attention had added fuel to the embers, but at the time, things seemed to develop explosively out of nowhere. Late one Sunday evening, the house was uncharacteristically quiet. Most of the family was away and we three, Tookey, me and her little brother, Jerry were fooling around on the living room couch. Secure in the knowledge of our unaccustomed privacy, we were "cutting up"... wrestling and shrieking, as they were against me, trying to pin me and win my submission.

Remember, I was a sexually aware kid who left little to chance. To the contrary, it had become my mission to contrive those situations where I might be rewarded with a peek or a touch. So it was the more remarkable that without my scheming, I suddenly found myself in an intense sexual situation not of my making.

In our couch wrestling, I was truly trying to fend them off. I've not recall of just how it came to be, but I suddenly became aware that the toes of my bare foot were in Tookey's crotch. She was wearing jeans as I recall and they may have been hand-me-downs, for they were sufficiently baggy, that I found my foot sliding around in them.

Jerry was sitting on my chest and shouting to Tookey to help him, for he'd become aware that she had stopped fighting. I was aware of the same thing, but unlike Jerry, I thought I knew why she'd stopped. My toes were sinking into the very wet crotch of her jeans and pushing the fabric into her pussy. Craning my neck, I looked around Jerry's small body to see what Tookey's reaction was to this blatant toe caress.

I'll never forget her face. Her eyes were hooded and her mouth was half open as she stared back at me, almost slack. Her blond hair had fallen across her face in disarray. She wet her lips - I remember that well- and looked at me, leaning back on her haunches, her feet tucked under thighs, her legs open and my foot crammed into her crotch. There was no pretense. At that moment I knew that she knew.

For the next several minutes, without speaking, we continued the charade. Pretending to wrestle, but contriving only to maintain our sexual contact, Tookey and I, unplanned, carried out a salient deception to mask our activities from Jerry. As if to hold my legs down, she lifted up a moment and then sat on my foot as she leaned over, her hand "holding" my knees. Her jeans were sodden. She was so wet. No stranger to the musk of a girl's excited pussy, I recognized the scent of her arousal. Cripes, the room was rank with pussy juice and my toe sank further into her pussy.