Message-ID: <420eli9703291151@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: From: M1KEHUNT@aol.com Subject: A Cousin's Lips - by MIKE HUNT I know I promised the sequel to "The Photographer", but I still haven't had time to format it with carriage returns and all that other stuff some of you like. This will have to do for the moment. I'll try to post the sequel ("The Darkroom") on Saturday night, unless my wife wants to blow me or something. These standard disclaimers are really boring. Worse, they take up space and time to download. Somebody ought to write some new ones instead of just recycling the same old shitty ones. You know, like they should say, "If you're right handed, please use your left hand to jerk off when reading this." or "Please have your girlfriend call me." Oops, there I go again. OK, I'll be good. If you're under 18, stop reading this and throw your computer in the river. It's the devil's instrument. There. I feel much better now. A Cousin's Lips - by MIKE HUNT Two years ago I bought a big-screen TV. Last year it was a satellite dish. It makes my house the natural place for some of my friends to hang out. I had four of them over last Friday night for a Bulls game, and as the Suns got trashed, so did we. By the end of the evening the talk turned to sex (I HATE when that happens...) and everybody had to tell the story of the first time they got laid. Not surprisingly, everybody had a quite vivid recollection of the girl, the time, the place. I asked the group if anyone remembered his first blow job, and was quite astonished to find that not a single one of them could remember it. I remember mine, and thought I would set it down for posterity. Of course, mine might be a little easier to remember than most. Because it involved my older cousin from North Dakota. We actually had several experiences together; I guess you would call them sexual. We lived on the East Coast. But every 3 or 4 or 5 years my father would shove us all in the car and we would drive to visit the mid-western relatives. It was 3 agonizing days in the car each way, but we did it anyway. Those relatives never came to visit us, because they lived on a farm, which mean they never got a real vacation, and because they were pretty poor and couldn't afford it. I doubt if they ever got out of the state. Anyway, the first encounter happened when I was just 7 or 8. I remember it clearly because Annette and I were playing "Doctor" under the cellar steps when my mother discovered us. Now a game of "I'll show you mine if you show me yours" is OK a little later in life, but there we were, examining each other's sex organs when Mom showed up. The event is burned into my memory (and across my ass) because it was the first time my father ever took his belt to me. It only happened 3 times as I was growing up, and this was the first of those three. My folks were devoutly religious, and getting caught with my pants down (literally) was a sin. Besides the beating, I was grounded for a month and my allowance was cut in half for a year. It was an expensive lesson. During our next vacation in North Dakota. I was probably 10 or 11. Annette was a year and a half older than me, and was just beginning to show signs of puberty. Little tiny breasts were beginning to form on her chest. Even if she had worn a training bra it still would have been unnecessary, her breasts were so small. As it was, she didn't have the money to buy such frills. During that visit, she and I played around the farm, and at one point I tried kissing her behind the barn. She didn't resist, but she didn't exactly help, either, and I didn't see what the big deal was. Everybody kissed everybody in the movies and on TV. For me it was no big thing. It was during the next vacation that the sexual encounter happened. Now I was probably 14 or 15. Maybe even 16, I don't remember exactly. I do remember that I was at the point of my teenage years where I didn't want to spend 3 days each way driving to North Dakota. But there was no way my parents were going to let me stay home while they went, so guess what? I went. When we arrived, I was in a foul mood. The last day of driving was nearly 11 hours, and I was bored. Now I had to stay on a farm in North Dakota for a week, and then drive another three days back to New Jersey. Swell. We pulled into the driveway, and my spirits brightened immediately. Annette came bounding out of the house to greet us. It took me less than a moment to realize that my gangly, awkward, flat-chested cousin had become a farm girl fox. She wore her hair long, her clothes loose, and her tits big. She had filled out in all the right places, and had a fabulous figure. Even better, her face and complexion were farm girl fresh; she was the very definition of the word "pretty." I couldn't take my eyes off her. "Hi," I said, climbing out of the back seat. "Hi," she replied. Teenagers don't use much vocabulary, you know? There was an instant attraction between us, but I'm sure my parents didn't realize it. They were real old. Probably in their 30's. Maybe even in their early 40's. Pretty close to comatose, as any teenager can tell you. We unpacked the car and dragged our bags inside. It took only a few minutes to get my folks settled in the guest room. I would sleep in the basement on a cot with a sleeping bag we had brought. Then we all went downstairs where Aunt Billie had prepared dinner. It was late, nearly 8 o'clock before we started eating. On Uncle Fred's farm the whole family was usually in bed by 9:00, so this was an event. Although Annette and I snuck away from the rest of the group, we couldn't stay up or out much longer than they did, because we knew we'd be missed. So we walked out to the porch and chatted while the grownups cleaned up the dishes and straightened up the kitchen. Then it was time for bed. I said good night to Annette, to my parents, and to Aunt Billie and Uncle Fred. The next couple of days were choreographed by the adults, you know, visit the neighbors, drive to town, that sort of thing. Annette and I barely had any time together, except in the back seat of the car. Now that can be interesting at times, but one of those times is NOT when your uptight parents are in the front seat. With just 3 days left, we finally begged off and broke away. Annette promised to take me to the quarry to go swimming, but warned me not to say that to any of the old folks. She winked at me when she said it, but wouldn't explain further. I had no idea what to expect. We climbed into her parents' Plymouth (she had her learner's permit) and we sped away. I brought my suit rolled up in a towel. I also brought along some sun tan lotion and my Joe cool sunglasses. We drove about 20 minutes when she pulled off the highway onto a dirt road. We drove along the rutted route for another 5 or 6 minutes, and then came to a clearing. It was choked with cars. Well, maybe not choked, but there had to have been 20 or 30 of them randomly driven off the sides of the road, parked under trees, and generally abandoned wherever it had been convenient. As I slammed the door shut behind me, I said to her "Shouldn't we change here?" "No, we can change up there," she said, pointing to a trail that disappeared behind a grove of trees. "They have lockers up here at an abandoned quarry?" I asked. I was from New Jersey. What did I know? "Not exactly," she said. But by then she was walking up the trail, grabbing her own rolled up towel and motioning for me to catch up. We walked for several minutes along a crushed stone path. I nearly twisted my ankle more than once; I was a city boy, not used to this sort of hike. "We're almost there," she said. As we turned a corner through some oversized rocks, I saw a small beach with nearly 30 or 40 people laying about or sitting up on towels. It took me a moment to realize that none of them had any clothes on. "Skinny dipping. That's what we do here," she said. "Come on. Race you." And before I knew it, she was stripping off her clothes and running into the cool water. I took off my clothes, even though I felt self-conscious about it. When I looked up I saw that she was in the water, and had sunk down so that only her head was above the surface. She watched me as I waded in. She was laughing at my discomfort. But there was no mistaking where her eyes were focused. She was staring at my dick. Finally I got in deep enough to cover myself, and then started chasing her. I was going to give her a good "what for" for surprising me like this. She started swimming out to the center of the small pond, and I followed. She was a surprisingly strong swimmer, and she stayed ahead of me for nearly a minute. I kept looking up to see if I was gaining on her, and was treated to the sight of her legs kicking and her ass occasionally bobbing out of the water. Suddenly she stopped swimming. I didn't know it, but there was a big rock in the middle of the quarry, about 5 inches below the surface. In a few minutes I would learn that it was just big enough for one person to sit on, but no more. Annette had gotten there first, and was sitting up on the rock. Her tits stuck out and her entire torso was exposed, except for her butt which remained under water. Now the quarry wasn't exactly like a running brook or river. The water that was there tended to stay there. Which is to say it was sort of dirty. I mean you could see your hand down to about a foot or two, but deeper than that it just became dark murk. Which is also to say I could see her butt through the water, and I could see her young public hair in the front above the junction of her legs, which were tightly pressed together. Catching up to her, I found myself a little out of breath. I hung on to the rock, and we started to talk. "I'm shocked," I said. "At lil 'ole me?" she said, mockingly. "At everyone here." I had never been to a nude beach, before. I had only ever seen a couple of pictures in Playboy of a nude beach in France, and I was sure that was a faked picture. Who would ever walk around nude on a public beach, for heaven sakes? "Especially here, in North Dakota," I continued. I guess I had my stereotypes wrong. She laughed. "Oh goodness, skinny dipping is an old sport around here. And the quarry is just the perfect place for it, cause it's so far off the beaten path." She must have felt self-conscious at my stare, because she slipped back into the water. I climbed up on the rock. I slipped a little as I got up, but I finally made it. I sat down "Indian style" with my legs crossed in front of me. "Don't the police raid the place, or anything?" I asked her. "I mean, with wild parties and everything..." She interrupted. "Oh, nothing goes on here. It's sort of an unwritten rule. Just nude bathing. I've never even seen people kiss here. Everyone is quite considerate. They don't even stare. Well, once in a while you can tell that someone is new, because they do stare, but that only lasts a few minutes." I scanned the shore line, but it was several hundred feet away, and all I could make out were a few small shapes. I turned back to her. She was floating on her back, or at least trying to. Her ripe teenage tits were sticking up out of the water. Her pussy was pointed away from me, but I could still see the dark triangle of hair above it and the general area of the juncture of her legs. I began to feel myself getting aroused. She turned around and pulled herself toward me. She gripped the edge of the stone, crossed her arms on its edge, and made a pillow out of her hands. Her head was just a couple of feet from my crotch. My dick twitched. I don't think she noticed at first. But when you're a young boy and you start to get a hard-on, there's practically no force in nature that's going to stop it. The more I tried to think about not getting a boner, the harder I got. I was nearly at full attention when she looked down and saw it. "Mikey!" she said. "Look at you. Now stop that." As if I could! Even with her angry words, I could see that her eyes were glued to my dick. She could see it clearly through the few inches of water as it bounced in time with my heartbeat. She continued her verbal assault. "You have to stop it! How are you going to get out of the water in front of all those people? Stop it, now." Sure. I wished I could make her a horny teenage guy for a couple minutes so she could see what it was like. On the other hand, I've often wished I could be a horny teenaged girl for a while to experience that side of life, as well... Anyway, I slid off the rock and back into the water. As long as I stayed vertical in it, my prick was too far down to be able to see. "I'll just stay here for a while. I can't get out at the moment, as you so accurately point out, so..." My words faded. She climbed on the rock and sat down. I swam in front of her, like a puppy dog following its mistress. I stared at her breasts. They were quite large now, and perfectly formed. The nipples, though not erect, were as large as silver dollars, and were a shade of pink that would do a sunset proud. At the time I didn't have the experience to judge their size, I just knew they were big. They hung in front of her like proud round beacons of womanhood. But in spite of their size there wasn't a trace of sag anywhere, they stood so proudly on her chest. I wanted to climb in between them and smother myself. She pulled her knees up and wrapped her arms around them. Her heels kissed her thighs.From the side I now had a wonderful view of her cunt lips and pussy. I couldn't help but stare, and I did. I was already hard, but my body kept pumping blood into my dick, engorging it and swelling it to a massive size. Below the surface of the water, out of sight of her eyes, my right hand slipped around my cock. This hand knew this dick. It had been there many times before. I had gotten to the point where I was beating off every day, sometimes twice, and occasionally a third time. It depended mostly on whether my mother was walking around the house or not. She had a habit of poking her head into my bedroom without knocking, which was a real downer. My hand began stroking up and down, up and down as I looked first at Annette's tits, then at her cunt, then up at her pretty farm girl face. At my age I'd never been to a strip club; the only naked girls I had seen were in magazines and once when my girlfriend Marilu let me open up her blouse for a second on a date last year. Now here was this beautiful cousin of mine sitting naked in front of me, apparently completely uninhibited. Every once in a while she would look down at me, but mostly she stretched in the sun and looked at the scenery, which gave me every opportunity to stare through the water at her cunt. And I did. It didn't take me many strokes to begin the climb that I knew would end in orgasm. I had to decide whether to do it or not, because I knew if Annette realized I had done it she would be real mad. But when would I get a chance to jerk off in front of a naked girl again? I let myself go, and I came in the water. She suspected something was up (if you'll pardon the pun) because of how I shook at that moment, and how the ripples of water vibrated away from me, but she couldn't see anything, and let the matter drop. Or so I thought. We hung around the rock for another 10 or 15 minutes and I watched for traces of floating cum. There weren't any. We decided to swim for shore. As we walked out I saw her checking me out again; I returned the favor. We dressed, and walked back down the rocky path to the car. "Now this is where I pray the car starts," she said. "No way could I call my mom and tell her to come pick me up at the quarry. I'd be grounded 'til I was 30." She threw a towel at me and I rubbed it on my hair before climbing into the car. The car turned right over, no problem. As we drove away from the quarry site, she said to me "I know what you did, and I think it's wrong. I told you nothing is supposed to happen there. You should respect that other people don't want sexual things starting up, because then the uptight crowd might get the county to close it down." "Nothing happened," I said. Really, nothing had. I mean, I had jerked off. So what? I'd done that in every room in my house, in the toilet at school, and probably 30 other places I couldn't think of at the moment. Nobody had seen me, so what was the big deal? "Nothing," I repeated. "You're lying," she said with conviction. "I saw you." "If you mean you saw me get a stiffie, yeah, that happened. It's an involuntary reaction, you know? It went away. Nothing happened." "I know it did," she insisted. "I saw you through the water." "Well in the first place, that water is too dark to see in. And in the second place, you couldn't have, because nothing happened." Now that I had lied once, I had to keep lying to cover my lie. "I know it did," she said again. "And I don't appreciate you lying to me." "I'm not lying," I lied. "Well I know you are, and I can prove it," she said. "Oh yeah? How?" I wondered how she was going to do that. Just then she spotted a small side road that flared off the main drag. She didn't slow the car down much, and we bounced a couple hundred yards down the deserted stretch when she finally brought the car to a halt. "All right I will. Now I'm pissed. You shouldn't lie to me, and you shouldn't have done what I told you not to do." She paused for a moment. "Take off your pants." "WHAT?" I yelled. "What the hell for?" "You heard me, " she said. "Take off your pants. I know that once you "do it" you can't "do it" again for several hours. Boys are like that." She seemed quite sure of herself for a teenager. "I watch the animals on the farm sometimes. And once they "do it" they're done. They don't do it again. And we learned in health class that the man's reaction is only good for a short time. So take off your pants. You won't be able to get it hard, because I'm right." My hands went to my pants. "This is crazy," I said. But I pulled the button through the buttonhole and unzipped the front. I pushed the jeans down, and my underwear along with it. I was sitting there with my flaccid schwantz sitting in my lap. "A-HA," she said triumphantly. "I told you." She looked at my dick, lying limp against my thigh. "You lied to me." "Not so fast," I said. I let my mind drift to the memory of the sight I had just 20 minutes earlier, when I was looking at her cunt while she sat on the rock. To be honest, my reaction wasn't as fast as it would have been if I hadn't just blown my load, but, hey, I was only 16, and getting an erection was not exactly a problem. I felt my dick twitch. She looked down. I felt it twitch again. She could see that it was moving, enlarging, albeit slowly. I thought about her beautiful breasts. I glanced over at them, now covered by her T-shirt. She was braless, I knew that. I imagined her tits bouncing around under the thin cotton cloth. My dick arose. Quicker now. When it was nearly at full height, I looked at her and said "Your apology will be accepted." There was nothing she could say. "I'm sorry," she muttered. "I really am sorry, I thought, I mean, I was sure, I..." she hesitated. "I'm sorry." "It's OK," I said. "But I sure do feel stupid sitting here like this. While you sit over there with all your clothes on." "Well, maybe I should make it up to you," she said. Her hand slithered over to my lap and grazed my cock. She looked at me and said "Remember under the cellar stairs? I'll show you mine if you'll show me yours? We were a few years too early." Her fingers encircled me, and I leaned my head back against the car seat. "Would you like to see?" Her hand left me as she took hold of the bottom of her T-shirt. In an instant it was over her head, and her hand returned to my manhood. "I've never seen one up close like this," she said. She bent over, as if to inspect it more closely. As she did so, I reached under her and cupped one of her hanging tits. I rubbed my finger in a circle around the nipple, feeling the tip of it sharpen to a hard point while the aureole widened and distended. I reached over her back to try to grab the other tit. The effect was to push her down, and her head ended up in my lap, her face just inches from my dick. She moved toward me and kissed it. I was in heaven. She kissed it again. I was a slow starter. To this point in my life I had barely felt a girl up. Now I was in a car with Annette's lips sucking on my solid shaft. I was getting educated rapidly. Annette seemed unsure of herself. She kept stopping and raising her head from my dick saying things like "Does this feel good?" and "Am I doing it right?" and "Is this OK?" Each time I would say something profound like "Yeah," and shove her head back down. I continued holding, massaging, squeezing her beautiful tits while her mouth worked on me. If I hadn't jerked off in the water, I might have lasted about 12 seconds with this treatment. As it was, I knew I would be climaxing in just a minute or two. The sensations of her lips on my cock and the sucking sounds that she was making were getting me off rapidly. I felt that tingle in my balls and the sensation in my dick that warned me that my orgasm was coming. Now I had never had a blow job before. Hell, I'd never had a girl give me a hand job! I didn't know there was an etiquette to it. So when I was getting ready to come, I didn't say anything. I didn't ask permission. I didn't talk at all. I just kept grunting and moaning. And when I came, I just came. Full square in her mouth. BOOM! There it was. BOOM! Another contraction. BOOM! A third spurt. It wasn't until about my third large squirt that she realized what was happening. She tried to back off, but because I was draped over her grabbing her tit, she couldn't easily move out of the way. My fourth spasm hit her right in the face. She was choking and gagging on my hot spunk; I had really caught her by surprise. She struggled to sit up. She kept coughing, and tried to spit out the gooey mess. She was only partly successful. She sat up and pulled on the door handle. She got out and walked away. I watched her tits bounce as she moved around the car. I could already feel my dick twitching again. Finally, after several minutes, she came back to the car and wandered over to the passenger window. I rolled down the crank. I tried to apologize, but she just held up her hand like a cop stopping traffic as if to say "Shut Up!" I did. "That was gross!" she said. "I didn't know you were going to do that. Yuk!" "Yeah, well, sorry. I didn't realize that girls didn't like it. I thought, uh, heck, I don't know what I thought." Then I got what I thought was a bright idea. I said, "I PROMISE I'll never cum in your mouth again." At the time I thought it was an original thought. She softened, perhaps forgiving me a little. "I probably deserved it, for calling you a liar, and all. But don't do it again, OK? Yuk. Promise? I'm sorry. I'm sorry if you're sorry. OK?" It was OK with me. We kissed, a quick kiss on the lips. Then we got dressed and climbed back in the car and drove back to the farm. We told our parents that we were just out driving, seeing the sights. The next day Annette and I told them we were going to an orchard to pick apples. They bought it. Can you believe it? Adults are so stupid. So was Annette. I broke my promise to her the very next day. MIKE HUNT's stories are all true. Well, mostly all. Sometimes I have to touch up the ending or something. This one's true right up until the last line. She wouldn't put her mouth on my dick ever again. I think she might never have given another guy a blow job, you know? If you live in North Dakota, sorry if I ruined her for you. For more stories, or just to tell me what you think, send e-mail to Bannerboy1@aol.com. Thanks. -- +--------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `------------+ | story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us | story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us | | Archive site +--------------------+------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | \ .../assm/faq.html> /