It had been a week since my encounter with "Cousin Ruth" and she was on my mind constantly. She was still staying with my wife and me while trying to work things out with her deadbeat husband.
It had been a busy work-week, so I had been getting home later in the evening and hadn't seen much of Ruthie ... or my wife, for that matter.
I had taken the time to go by her place and get her some additional clothing. It was the least I could do and it gave me the perfect opportunity to closely examine her gigantic bras. I marveled at their size. Stupidly, like a goofy teenager, I put one cup on like a hat; it covered my entire head. Unfortunately, there were no size labels in any of them, so I still have no idea what her actual measurements were -- I just know they were enormous.
Anyway, it was the second Saturday after our initial encounter when my wife told me she was heading out to the store. She had tried to wake Ruth, but she had no luck.
"I guess I'm going without her," she told me exasperatedly. "That girl could always sleep through anything."
Anything? I thought to myself as I watched my wife's car pull out of the driveway. We'll have to see about that.
I was almost giddy as I went up the stairs. I quietly opened the guestroom door and peeked in. Ruth was asleep along on edge of the bed. The room was always warm and the sheets were wrapped awkwardly around her ankles. Her arms were extended over her head causing the too-small nightshirt to ride up, exposing her large, dark belly. Her magnificent breasts were contained within that taut cotton, but just barely.
I noticed with some satisfaction Ruth was wearing those same, now more stretched than before, boxers.
I stood there for a few minutes, just enjoying the view and listening to her steady breathing. When I felt certain she was truly asleep, I crept toward her.
Kneeling beside the bed I again marveled at the size of her breasts -- they were breathtakingly large. I wanted to touch them so badly, but I was worried pulling her shirt up might wake her.
Her crotch was, thanks to those stretched beyond repair boxers, much more accessible. I leaned closer to her tangled bush and inhaled. Her scent was as raw and pungent as I remembered -- I was certain my wife was going to smell it on me last weekend; I had scrubbed my face thoroughly, but felt I could still smell it.
Gently, I let my fingers glide through her short hairs. I slowly rubbed and tugged on them. Getting braver, my fingers touched her crease and I felt her warm, wet flesh.
Ruthie shifted slightly in her sleep, snorting loudly in a most unlady-like fashion. I smiled to myself and continued rubbing. The more I pressed the stronger her aroma got; I leaned closer to breathe it in.
