Chapter 1

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.