Lydia was more desireable every time he saw her.

The first time he had noticed was the year she turned eight. Donald went with his family every summer to his grandmother's house in the country. His cousin had been there since she was born, but that was the first year she mattered. That year, he was a teenager.

For most of the year, Donald never thought about his cousin. But the week before the trip, she starred in all his best fantasies.

He would imagine her playing in the yard, running through the tall grass. He would chase her, and she would giggle. When he caught her (her fight was only half-hearted, after all), he'd roll her on top of him in the grass. She'd sit low on his stomach, smiling down at him (strange, because he wasn't sure he'd ever seen her smile). That's when she'd notice it -- that long, hard thing in his pants.

Her eyes would widen. She would be nervous, but curiousity always got the better of her. She was never sure, but he was. He'd convince her how much fun they could have. He'd teach her everything he knew about that mysterious, forbidden world.

Their reality was much different. They had parents, uncles, aunts, cousins ... They were hardly ever alone. Uncle Fred, Lydia's father, for one, was almost always around. He'd want to take the boys -- Donald, his brother, Dennis, and Lydia's brother, Alan, out fishing, riding, hiking.

Dennis and Alan were both a couple of years older than Donald. Donald always hoped they would go off on their own, and leave him with Lydia, but they were always willing to let her tag along when she wanted.

Donald almost never even found enough alone time to masturbate, and always went back to the city several times as sexually frustrated as he had been when the vacation began.

The summer when he was seventeen was, for the most part, no different than the others had been. Uncle Fred, Aunt Chelsea, and Lydia were waiting for Donald and his family when they drove up. Mom and Aunt Chelsea greeted each other with the usual pointless small talk while Dad and Uncle Fred shared a brotherly hug.

Donald smiled at his cousin. "Hi Liddy, how are you?"

"Good," she replied without smiling, nodding her head shyly, and looking at him through slightly soiled yellow locks.

Dennis rolled his eyes and started off towards the house. "Where's Alan?" he called back to Uncle Fred.

"Napping. Why don't you go wake him up? You kids should go for a swim." He winked at Lydia, who turned away.

"C'mon, Liddy, let's get our suits on." Donald grabbed his suit case and carried it inside.

Already charged with desire, Donald took his turn in the bathroom as an opportunity to relieve himself. By the time he got to the lake, Alan and Dennis were already in the water. Lydia was watching them from the shore.

Donald came up from behind and nudged her playfully. "What's wrong, Lydia, dear? Don't feel like swimming?" She just shrugged.

Donald took a running start and front-flipped into the water, splashing his brother and Alan. When he surfaced, he looked back. Lydia seemed unimpress, but she had her feet in the water. Maybe she'd get in after all.

"C'mon Liddy," he called plaintively.

"Yeah, c'mooooon Liddyyyyy," Dennis mocked him. Someone grabbed Donald's shoulders and pushed him under. He swallowed a mouthful of water before elbowing his assailant, who turned out to be Alan, in the stomach, and came up choking.

"Asshole!" Donald swam to the shallow water to catch his breath, and sat down next to Lydia. "Don't be a pussy, Don," Alan sneered.

"If you guys are gonna fight, I'm leaving." Lydia got up and started to walk back to the house. Donald's heart sank.

"Fine, kiddo. See if we care." Alan rolled his eyes at her, but Donald didn't like the way her brother watched her walk away.