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It was an easy drive for me, because the roads were finally clear. Not so easy for Zoey, though, because she was stiff as a board after her sledding mishap the day before. I offered to strap her to the roof of the car, which she didn’t find at all amusing, and then I somehow managed to get her into the back seat, where she could sort of lie down and stretch out. Between that and a couple of prescription-strength Advil from a bottle Jenny had slipped her before we left, she was about as comfortable as she was going to get.

We talked while I drove (after she stopped being pissed at me for the roof joke), and we basically discussed what we both already knew: while it would be wonderful — if unlikely — that we could get together again before we all went our separate ways, this wasn’t about being boyfriend-and-girlfriend. We were cousins, we sometimes didn’t see one another for years, and we each had our own lives.

Well, fast-forward to that night: Brad was married, we’d finished the post-wedding dinner, and I was sitting with Zoey — who looked really nice, though of course I had to pretend to barely notice — as well as Wendy and a few other cousins. It wasn’t a lively bunch: Zoey was obviously not feeling her best, and Wendy seemed kind of depressed. The band was playing, and Wendy asked me if I wanted to dance.

“I had to help Zoey get dressed for the wedding,” she told me. “She’s quite a mess. You really shouldn’t have beat her up like that.”

“What??” I said, pulling away from her.

“Sorry, that wasn’t funny. I know what happened. Zoey told me everything.”


“I mean everything,” she repeated.

“Everything everything?” I asked cautiously.

“Starting with the two of you peeking in on me and Brad, and ending with you dressing her this morning.”

I’m sure I blushed deeply. “Yeah, that sounds like everything. Um… sorry about the, you know, the peeking.”

Wendy smiled. “You were kids, and we were careless. I’m just glad you never told anybody.”

“Hey,” I said, “cousins have to watch out for one another.”

“Yeah. You know, you look so much like Brad did back then. I guess that’s not surprising.”

“I guess.”

She stepped away from me a bit, and struck a pose. “What do you think, since I was the first woman you ever saw naked — have I held up okay?”

She was wearing a low-cut dress that I had a feeling the bride wasn’t crazy about. I nodded. “For an old lady of twenty-five, you’ll do.”

She gave me a quick kiss on the cheek. “Thanks, little cousin,” she said.


Turned out our parents had booked us rooms in the hotel where the wedding was taking place. I had a pretty large room all to myself, because this was the room Brad and I would have been sharing the past two nights, if I hadn’t been snowed in in Baskersfield.

Not that I had any complaints, mind you.

And neither did Brad, as I later found out: since he had the room to himself, his bride-to-be ditched her own sister each night to join him.

When the party began dying down, Wendy and I helped Zoey upstairs to their room. She was still pretty stiff, and a little groggy from the Advil. When we got there, Wendy said, “Um, Zoey, there’s no reason Donny shouldn’t help me get you undressed, is there?”

“‘Course not,” Zoey said.

We stripped her down to her panties, then slipped a nightshirt over her head (which was actually the hardest part, since she still couldn’t lift her arm very well).

There was an awkward moment when it was time for me to leave: what I wanted to do was kiss Zoey on the mouth — but it seemed weird to be doing that in front of her sister, and anyway it’s not as if she were my girlfriend, right? So I kissed each of my cousins on the cheek, and went back to my room.

Certainly a step up from the room at the Bakersfield Motel, I thought, though of course I’d trade the wide-screen television and fluffy, luxurious bathrobes for a sexy, naked cousin any day.

I was lying under the blankets in one of the room’s king-sized beds, naked, still damp from my (lonely) shower, when I heard a knock on the door. “Donny?” Zoey’s voice said. “Can I come in?”

She sure could. I picked up the robe from the floor and put it back on, then answered the door. And saw that it was Wendy, not Zoey, still wearing her dress from the party. Well, they’re sisters — of course they’re going to sound similar. I took a quick glance down to make sure the robe was tied securely, something I’d been less than careful about when I’d thought it was Zoey at the door.

And then I noticed Wendy had been crying. “What’s wrong?” I asked.

“Oh, nothing,” she said. “Everything. casino siteleri I don’t know.”

I kept quiet.

“You and Zoey seem to be handling this… this thing you have a lot smarter than Brad and I did. Or maybe just smarter than I did, anyway.”

I was still lost.

“It was really intense between us. We hooked up whenever we could, and we even…” She gave a little laugh. “We’d even go at it when our younger siblings were in the next room.”

“So I noticed.”

“Donny, I was so in love with your brother. I don’t even know whether he realized that. I know nobody would have approved, but I kept hoping someday we’d run off to a state where first cousins can get married, and… well, midway through college we began to drift apart. He got a few serious girlfriends, and we stopped making plans to get together. But I kept hoping things would go back to the way they were. Until tonight,” she said with a very slight smile. “I guess the ship’s sailed, huh?”

“I guess.”

“Okay,” she said, wiping her eyes, “enough of all that. Tell me about your life. How’s college been treating you?”

We talked about my classes and my professors for a bit, and then she asked “But no serious girlfriends, huh?”

“Zoey told you everything, huh?”

“Don’t blame her, she was tired and a bit loopy from the Advil. Tell me the truth,” she said mischievously, “it’s because no girl could stack up to what you saw when you were eleven, right?”

“And when you say ‘stacked’..” I said, raising my eyebrows Groucho-style. Cousin or not, she did have great breasts.

She laughed. “That’s not what I said, and you know it. Thank you for noticing.” She put a hand under each breast, as if to prop them up. “So tell me, have you thought very much about them over the years?”

Um… I was thinking a lot about them now, unfortunately, especially with how much cleavage her dress was revealing; and I wished I were wearing something under the robe, because this could get embarrassing. “Yeah,” I said. “I guess so.” I don’t know how many times, over the years, I’d jerked off to the memory of seeing Wendy naked.

She looked down at my crotch, where things were already stirring. “And it’s not as if you never have sexual thoughts about your cousins,” she said.

“Sorry,” I said, trying to shift position so my erection wasn’t so apparent.

Wendy bit her bottom lip, hesitated for a moment, then said, “Donny, I’m going to suggest something pretty dysfunctional.”

“What do you mean?”

“I would kill for one more night with Brad. That’s not going to happen, but you look so much like him. And you’ve been fantasizing about me for years, right?”


“I need you to fuck me, Donny. Not make love to me. Fuck me.”

“But that’s…”

“It’s wrong, I know. It’s so wrong.” She reached behind herself and unzipped her dress. It fell to the floor, and she stepped out of it. Her bra and panties were both flesh-colored, and sheer enough to see through.

She was right: this was something I’d been fantasizing about before I even understood why. Then my heart sank as I realized… “Wendy, I don’t have any condoms.” I’d left them behind at the motel because I didn’t know whether I’d be rooming with anybody here, and I certainly didn’t want to have to explain a half-empty box.

Wendy pulled on the best to undo my robe, and smiled when she saw my erection. “I may have been pining for your brother, Donny, but I haven’t been celibate. I’m on the pill.”

“Wow,” is the only thing I could think of to say. Then I reached behind her to unsnap her bra, the first time I’d ever done that.

“Are they how you remember them?” Wendy asked me.

“In my dreams,” I said, and pulled her down to the bed.

I kissed her, and she responded enthusiastically. Yes, I knew I wasn’t the one she really wanted to be in bed with — but we were two consenting adults, so who was being harmed? And hell, it’s not as if neither of us had committed incest with a cousin before.

I gently kissed her right breast, sucking the nipple into my mouth, and was starting on the left one when she pulled my head away. There’s time for that later,” she said. “Right now I want to be fucked.” She yanked off her panties, and it sounded as if she may have ripped them a little. She grabbed my hand and pressed it against her clean-shaven pussy. “Feel how wet I am? Just fuck me.”

I climbed on top of her, she spread her legs, and I slid my hard cock quickly into her. It hardly registered at first that this was my first time inside a girl without a condom. It felt incredible and I thrust in and out slowly, savoring it. “Faster,” Wendy canlı casino said. “Harder. Come on, I wasn’t in a sled accident, you don’t have to be careful with me. Fuck me with all you have.”

So I did, forcing my way into her almost angrily, as she groaned loudly and occasionally cursed. She grabbed my ass, and pulled it toward her in time to my thrusts. I understood what she meant by “fucking” rather than “making love.”

We were both sweating like crazy by the time I came. I’m pretty sure she’d cum twice; but with all the noise she was making, and my relative inexperience, I couldn’t really tell.

I remember rolling off of her, but apparently I was asleep before my body hit the bed.

I was only vaguely aware, during the night, that I was naked on top of my bedsheets and that Wendy, also naked, was beside me. Then at about 5am I woke up to Wendy kneeling over me, sucking my cock. I reached up and took hold of her breasts, hanging down so enticingly.

Then she let my cock out of her mouth. It was so hard, it almost hurt. She wasted no time crawling on top of me, impaling my cock into her pussy, and fucking me hard.

“Fucking me” is the only way to put it: I knew she was just using my cock, and I suspected she was imagining in the dim light that she was fucking Brad, but this all felt too good for me to care. Let her use me: this felt so fucking good, she could keep using me forever for all I cared.

She groaned loudly — too loudly, and I thanked God nobody from our family was in an adjourning room — and then clasped a hand over her own mouth so she wouldn’t do it again. Finally I came, and she pressed down hard on me and groaned loudly again.

She climbed off of me, grabbed her underwear from the floor and put it on, then leaned over to kiss me. “I’d better get back to my room before Zoey wakes up,” she said.

I nodded.

“Thanks,” she said. And then she pulled on her dress and slipped out the door.


I woke up again about a quarter after 8, to a knock on the door. “Who’s there?”

“It’s me,” Zoey said. Or at least I thought so, but I’d been fooled before.

I opened the door. It was Zoey. “They sent me to fetch you. Everybody’s downstairs having breakfast.”

“Should you be walking around so much?”

“I’m feeling a lot better this morning. I still look like hell, but I can get around a lot better. The walking’s actually helping.”

“You look fine to me,” I said, realizing afterward that this may have sounded a bit too boyfriend-ish.

I think she blushed slightly, and then she said “I bet you have nothing on under that bathrobe.”

“Do you want to check for yourself?” I asked her softly.

“Oh God,” she whispered. “Don’t tempt me.”

“What color panties do you have on today?”


I shut the door behind her. “Let me see them.”

“Donny, we can’t do this now,” she said. “I mean…we can’t, right?”

“Not if they’re expecting us downstairs. But let me see.”

She unsnapped and unzippered her jeans, and pulled the sides apart just enough to expose a pair of plain, red cotton panties. “Happy now?” she asked.

I slipped my hand down the back of her jeans — I could reach down low enough to cup her ass cheeks, since she’d loosened her jeans — and then pulled her closer to me to kiss her. When we separated, her jeans had fallen halfway to her knees and my cock had found its way out of the bathrobe.

She lightly slapped at my cock. “Nice going, Donny. Now my panties are all wet, and you’re going to have a hard time getting dressed.”

“Worth it though,” I said.

She smiled. “Yeah.”


She went back to the dining room, and I was along about ten minutes later. I’d have been there sooner; but she was right, it did take a few minutes before I could face the public without my erection calling attention to itself.

At breakfast, Wendy gave no indication that anything had happened between us, and she clearly hadn’t told Zoey anything, so all was right with the world.

We all repacked, and then Zoey got into my car so I could drive her back to her school. She was back to riding in the front seat. Neither of us started up the sexual flirting for a while. I figured it was because we didn’t know what was supposed to happen next. We’d agreed the day before that this was probably a one-weekend thing, “what happens at Brad’s wedding stays at Brad’s wedding” — so that fooling around in my room earlier had been the end of it.

When we passed Bakersfield, though, I’m sure we were both thinking the same thing: if only we’d had one more day before we had to be back at school…

Then a few miles kaçak casino past Bakersfield, on that same deserted stretch of road I was afraid we’d be stranded on a few nights earlier, Zoey said “You never asked me what color bra I was wearing this morning.”


“And since you didn’t seem to care, when I got back from breakfast, I took it off. See?” And with that she grabbed the bottom of her sweater, and quickly pulled it up past her bare breasts, then pulled it down again. “Whoops. You missed it.”

“Silly me, trying to keep my eyes on the road.”

“Then pull over for a minute,” she said.

I stopped on the side of the road. Zoey unclasped her seatbelt, lifted her sweater again, and stretched out on the front seat, her head in my lap, I put my right hand on one of her breasts, softly caressing it. We both smiled. Then she said “Donny,” where are we going with this?”

“I though we agreed yesterday –“

“I know. But I don’t know, is that the way you really feel?”

“I love being with you, Zoey. Not just the sex, I mean. We’ve already had something special, I enjoy hanging out with you more than just about anybody. It’s just… I’m worried about starting something we can’t finish.”

“Donny, you haven’t really spent time with Wendy, have you?”


“Okay, I probably shouldn’t be telling you this, but when we saw her and Brad that time? That wasn’t a one-time thing. They did that a lot, and.. well, she was really hung up on him. I think it’s why she never really moved on.”

“So what you’re saying is…?” I truly had no idea.

“I’m saying I’m not Wendy. Donny, I love you. I’m probably in love with you. But I get it: someday you’re going to find somebody you can take home to mama, and so will I. Somebody who won’t say ‘hi, auntie.'”

I laughed, and leaned over to give her a kiss. “I think we’re good, then.”

“Okay,” she said. “And until that day comes, I want to –“

“Truck coming,” I said, interrupting her. She pulled her sweater back over her breasts, and sat upright. When the truck had passed, I started up the car and we got back on the road. When we were about 20 minutes from her school, she phoned her roommate and asked her if she could clear out for the night. I leave to head back to my own school at 4:30 in the morning, but before that I spent a wonderful night with the cousin I loved.


It was late May, and Zoey and I had both been home from college for about a week. We’d managed to get together twice in the three months since the wedding, and we’d tried cybersex using Skype a few times — twice this week alone, since both of us had bedrooms to ourselves now.

When I saw Zoey’s name flash on my screen, I thought we were in for some more of the same — but instead I saw her near tears. “Donny, it’s terrible.”

“What is it?”


“Is she okay?”

“She’s pregnant. Her and Brad.”


I heard a commotion downstairs. Was that Brad’s voice?

“Start over again,” I said. “What?”

“The night before the wedding, she and Brad… well, they did it, and now –“

“Donny, please come downstairs,” I heard my father calling out.

“But that’s impossible. She said she hadn’t –” I stopped myself.

“Hadn’t what?” Zoey said.

“Donny, now!” my father was shouting.

“Fuck. Zoey, I’m sorry, there’s some sort of crisis here. I have to go.”

“Probably the same crisis.” She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself down. “See what you can find out on your end and get back to me, okay? It’s looks like Wendy and Brad fucked up real good this time.”

“I don’t know how many different ways I can say it,” Bred was telling my parents. “It didn’t happen.”

“And I’m asking you,” Dad said, “why would she lie about something like this? Why would she say a paternity test will prove it?”

“You know, it would be nice if my own family believed me.”

“We do, dear,” Mom said. “Did Rachel even hear you out before throwing you out of your house?”

“Well, no,” Brad said, “but that’s because– nevermind.”

“What aren’t you telling us, Brad?” Dad asked firmly.

Brad sat down slowly, and hung his head. “Okay, well… when Wendy and I were kids, I mean teenagers, we fooled around some. And I’d told Rachel about it.”

“Oh, God,” Mom said.

Well, shit. Just… shit. I was going to be a father. Wendy hadn’t been on the pill, she’d wanted to break up Brad’s marriage, and my sperm was probably close enough to pass for Brad’s in a paternity test. Nobody knew we’d been together the night of the wedding, and I could never prove it.

And even if I could, I’d be supporting a baby for the next eighteen years, and Zoey would never forgive me. I mean, at the time, we’d agreed there was nothing serious or permanent between us — but now there was, and I hadn’t told her about me and Wendy, so…


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