Kim, Linda Kay, and I are first cousins. Despite his female sounding name, Kim is a guy. Linda Kay is 75, Kim is 71, and I am 69. Linda Kay and Kim grew up in Virginia and I grew up in Indiana. I did spend a lot of time with Kim every year, summers and holidays when my parents always “went home” as they called it. Kim was an only child and my brother is 4 years younger, so Kim and I are more like brothers than cousins.

Growing up, Kim and I fantasized about girls and sex. One of our fantasies was about our cousin Linda Kay who absolutely gorgeous with long dark hair, big tits, and a shapely ass. By being a few years older than us, Linda Kay saw us as her bratty young male cousins and would have little to do with us. It was like she could read our minds, or more likely noticed how we stared at her tits, and tried to avoid us as much as possible. Linda Kay married soon after high-school to Morris, the son of one the wealthiest families in town. To us Morris was a short little wimp and Linda Kay’s beautiful sexy body was wasted on him.

Fast forwarding to the present day, Kim and I are still close and spend several weeks together every year. Kim now owns the old family homestead where our grandparents built their home in the mountains in the late 19th century. It is a remote place set back one mile through the woods from the nearest country road. It’s a place where you can do whatever you please and no one will complain or bother you. You can shoot guns, grow weed, or go around nude and no one will care. Kim and I often meet there and spend a week drinking beer, smoking dope, and just generally enjoy life.

We also work on projects around the farm. We cut up fallen trees, work on equipment and restore his 65 Ford Econoline van. One of the projects was demolishing the run down old house that our grandparents first built that is now falling apart. This is where Linda Kay comes back into the story. We let our other cousins know that we were going to tear the old house down and asked if they wanted to come see it one more time. Out of our dozens of cousins, Linda Kay was the only one to show interest in it. She asked if she could come by the next afternoon. We told her that would be fine and that we were looking forward to seeing her.

The last time I saw Linda Kay had been 10 years earlier at Kim’s mom’s funeral. Linda Kay still looked great for a gal in her late 60s. She still had her figure and big tits. Talking to her though, I realized she was somewhat out of it, drunk or high or both. She was still with wimpy little Morris, so I figured that living with him would be enough to cause anyone to do drugs and drink.

The next day Kim and I worked on the farm, had lunch, and we’re sitting in the carport drinking beer when Linda Kay drove in. She got out of her car, stumbled a bit, and walked towards us with a big smile on her face. She was wearing a white Oxford shirt unbuttoned almost to her navel, through which we could see her black lacy bra holding in her huge tits, and a pair of jeans so tight that they looked painted on.

“Hey there little cuzzes!”, she said as she hugged us both and kissed us on the cheek.

That was the friendliest greeting we’d ever gotten from her, but we both enjoyed the sensation of her big tits mashing into our chests. We also noticed that her eyes were a little glassy and figured she must be on something. We offered her a beer which she gladly accepted and sat down to join us.