Easter Sex

Melissa gets some surprise sex from Mr. X

Caveats:

This is a ridiculous story, and it could never happen in real life. At least it's short! If you're one of those people who hates ridiculous, unrealistic stories, this would be the perfect story to skip.

Warning:

There is some 'low level' incest in this story. Actually, all of the sex is low level incestuous. Indeed, this story could have been placed in incest, group sex, or nonconsent. Since people seem to find nonconsent the most offensive rubric, I placed it there.

At the big Spring holidays (Easter and Passover) everyone convenes at my Great Grandmother's estate in the Hamptons. It's a huge, sprawling mansion, since part of my family comes from money. Big money. That's the Easter side of the family. The Easter Egg Hunts are spectacular.

The first night there, I was exhausted, having made the trip over to New York from Zurich, Switzerland, where I had been working at UBS Bank. Okay, I got the internship through family connections. I mean, that's how the world works, right? It helps that I speak both German and French, and some Italian, although nobody who is sane speaks Swiss German.

Anyway, nobody in my family was impressed with my scoring a position in Zurich, even if all my friends were. Zurich is a really nice place, too: It's very clean, well run, and yet easy to score some high-quality recreational drugs. Win, win, win. This story is not about Zurich, however. Not even close.

Being a charter member of the young adult component (I'm 24) of the extended family, I was banished to the servants' quarters, away from the main house. That's actually a good thing, because we youngsters were away from our crazy-making family, and since we were segregated, we could party on! I'm pretty good at partying and I got a nice buzz going before the jet lag hit me, and I collapsed.

It was surprisingly hot, and the servants' quarters were not air conditioned, since they're for servants. The rich don't waste money being nice to the help. That's why they're rich. It was hot and sticky once the ocean breezes decided to stall, and I just stripped naked and fell out, into a deep sleep.

I was sleeping on my stomach, my ass in the air. I often sleep like that on hot nights; I don't know why. I had these amazingly erotic dreams. I actually dreamed someone was stroking my pussy, and then gently fingering me a bit, and of course the dream progressed to a mysterious cock entering me.

It was such a wonderful dream that I didn't want it to end. I found myself in that sort of half-awake state, where one is clinging to sleep. Half the time, one falls back asleep, and the other half one reluctantly wakes.

I gradually realized my erotic dream had a cause. One of my cousins had started fucking me while I was asleep. There was so much wrong with this! It's rape to be fucked in your sleep, and the rapist had to be one of my cousins, and the worst part of it was I was totally enjoying the fuck, and enjoying even more having no idea who was fucking me!

I could scream. I could rise up and attack my rapist, giving him a black eye, or kick him in his balls. Or, I could just pretend not to wake up, and let him think he was fucking a still sleeping sexpot of a cousin. I could enjoy the sex to the max, and there would be no consequences. One of my cousins would look at me guiltily in the morrow, I'd confront him, and we'd giggle. The idea of it being incestuous also kind of turned me on.

You see, I had a reputation. I was one of those rich party girls. There were photos of me topless on some rich guy's yacht, and everyone assumed we had had sex, and that was why I was there. I'm not saying. Then there was a scandal where a rich bitch accused me of seducing her husband. I don't seduce. Sure, maybe at times I myself get seduced, but I sure as hell didn't seduce any stupid rich married guy. Why would I? Maybe we had sex, I'm not saying. You see, it was these kinds of things that led to my having a reputation. So unfair.

Whoever took advantage of me probably knew if I made a stink half the family wouldn't believe me, and the other half wouldn't care. Besides, whoever was fucking me "in my sleep" was doing a damn fine job of it! He was driving me to one hell of a climax, and he was teaching me also how erotic it is to have no idea which cousin is fucking you!

I'd never fucked a relative before. Why would I? So, this was a new experience in so many ways. The lack of consent, the anonymity of my lover (I now thought of him as my lover, rather than my rapist), and the incestuous component (unless my rapist was part of the help? Nah...they'd never take the risk!), all combined to drive me to stratospheric erotic heights!

I felt his cock quickening the pace. I couldn't help myself; I began softly to moan. I was getting closer, and closer, and closer, as I thought about not even knowing who was fucking me! For some bizarre reason that truly turned me on. Even in my sleepy stupor I knew it would freak out every other woman I knew: To be raped like this, and by a cousin no less, and then not to know who it was? So, what was wrong with me, I thought, as BOOM, my orgasm washed over me.

My lover increased his pace to an extraordinary extent, and my moans became louder as I thrust my ass up to meet him, and then he buried his cock deep inside me, froze in place, and squirted inside me, squirted a second time, and then squirted a third time. He quickly pulled out, and left. I fell onto my stomach and fell back asleep.

The next morning, I was a mess of dried up cum, and so were my sheets. I grabbed a robe and went to the bath. I was amazingly cheerful. It's truly surprising what a good night's sleep can do for a girl.

I went to the communal breakfast table, smiling idiotically and saying hello to all my cousins. There were twenty-five of us there, counting me, and ten of them were male. I decided to exclude my two gay cousins, so that left eight candidates. I remembered the feel of the man's hands on my naked hips. His hands were calloused. That memory narrowed it down to four candidates for my rapist/lover. Let's call him Mr. X. It sounds more pleasant than rapist does, don't you think?

It was a little late, but I was curious. The four candidates were Eric, Sven, Niles, and Brian. Eric and Sven were sitting together, so I went to them first.

"How did you sleep last night?" I asked, and they began to chuckle. "Why is that funny?"

Niles came over, "In case you want to know about me, Irina, I slept well, like a naked baby with its ass in the air," he said, and both Eric and Sven laughed.

"Me too," Brian said, walking over to join us. "A smooth baby bottom in the air, that's how I love to sleep."

They all knew. Whoever Mr. X had been, he had bragged to the other male cousins. Everyone knew someone had fucked me in my sleep, and I had slept through it, or so everyone thought (or at least, I hoped that's what they thought!). Nobody seemed to be outraged on my behalf, either, which tells you something about my family.

I surreptitiously had a sniff. My sniffs eliminated Niles and Brian, so it was between Eric and Sven. It turns out I had noticed my mystery lover's aftershave. Eric and Sven had the same aftershave, so whomever it was who so wonderfully violated me, it was either my cousin Eric, or my cousin Sven.

Not all cousins are the same. Eric was my second cousin, and Sven was my third cousin, once removed. The once removed simply meant that Sven was the son of my third cousin. So his relationship was fairly diluted. Still, he was a cousin, and that meant that it was incest, no question about it. Whatever it was, diluted incest for Sven, or less diluted for Eric, I could use another dose, you know?

It wasn't hard to entice them. It was April, so the ocean was not warm yet, but it was a gorgeous day for a walk along the beach. I asked them both if either wanted to come, hoping for a telltale sign in their reaction. Maybe if one was eager to come, he could be Mr. X? Or, maybe if one of them looked guilty and wanted to avoid me, perhaps he was Mr. X?

No such luck, they were both exactly equally enthusiastic. I was wearing my bikini under my clothes, and off we went, just the three of us, for a walk on the beach. How do you ask a cousin if he snuck into your room and fucked you the previous night? To be honest, I couldn't think of a good way to do that.

We walked along the beach, and I held both of their hands. It was romantic, and it was clear they both had the hots for me. This was fun, even if it wasn't working. At one point, I tried yet another gambit.

"Guys, do you think I have a hot body?" I asked.

"Well, all your clothes are hiding it, Melissa, but yeah, I'd guess you do," Sven said.

"Yes, I think so. If you were in a swimsuit, I could let you know for sure," Eric said.

"No problem," I said, surprising both of the guys, as I stripped off my clothes and stood before them, on the beach, remember, in my bikini. And by the way, this was not your mother's bikini, unless your Mom was an international jet setting party slut like yours truly. This bikini was a designer string bikini, and it was rather stingy with material, although it did manage to cover the essentials. The less material in a bikini, the better the engineering, and the higher the price.

The boys stepped back a couple of paces to take in the view.

"You're hot," they said together, at the same time. Brian added, "No question."

Sven said, "Are your boobs real?"

"What the bleep does that mean?" I asked.

"Well, they're pretty big. Are they enhanced?" Sven explained.

"No, of course not. Don't be gross," I replied.

"Just asking," Sven said.

Brian added, "Hey, there's nobody around. Take off your top and give them a bounce, and then we'll know for sure."

"Nice try, Brian. Correction: It was a pretty pathetic try, in actuality. If you want a girl to lose her top on a public beach, you should kiss her and work her up into a frenzy. Just the advice of your loving cousin," I said.

"Okay," Sven said, and he surprised me by kissing me. Quite nicely, too. We just stood there, kissing for a while, and damn if it didn't feel good.

"My turn," Brian said, and he began kissing me, too. After he had kissed me for a while, I became really turned on. He then returned me to Sven who resumed giving me those wonderful kisses of his, and at the same time, he unhooked my bikini top. It had no straps, so it fell to the ground. I began to protest, but Sven was kissing me so wonderfully, I just couldn't stop.

I was breathing heavily when Sven backed away from me. I happened to notice both men were hard. They were both staring at my boobs. "Those are real," Sven said

"Bouncing them is the surefire test," Brian observed. He approached me. I thought he was going to kiss me some more, but instead he bounced my boobs. Then he squeezed them, massaged them, tweaked my nipples, and I did the stupidest thing imaginable: I quietly moaned.

"Our cousin's boobs are real!" Brian shouted out to the ocean. "Let's sit down and watch the waves."

"Can I have my top back?" I asked.

"Later," the boys said, together. Brian was 25, and Sven was 28. I guess I should call them men.

We sat there looking at the waves crashing on the sand. It was gorgeous. I began to get cold, and complained, and Sven announced he'd keep me warm. He pushed me down onto my back onto the sand, and somehow at the same time, my string bikini bottoms came undone, and off. I was now naked on the beach.

Sven's body on top of me did in fact warm me up, but that was not his sole motivation. This became clear when he spread my legs, took out his hard, erect cock, and smoothly entered me, as he had no doubt done with many a tart before me. Sven could really fuck, and as he fucked me, Brian resumed kissing me, which I think irritated Sven, just a bit.

"Take me rear entry," I said, and I got in the original position I was in when Mr. X. fucked me. Sven plunged right back in, and he fucked me, but good. He pulled out and he shot his load on my back.

"My turn," Brian said. This was for science, I told myself. It was the only way I could think of to decide which of these guys was Mr. X. Brian gave me a wonderful fuck. He lasted a long time, even a very long time, before finally he shot his load deep inside me. Between Sven and Brian, I came three times.

I collapsed in a heap on the sand, on my back, showing my charms to the world and, especially, to the birds. After three climaxes, I closed my eyes in bliss, and I fell into a light sleep. When I woke, I was still naked, but now alone. My two cousins were gone, and my clothes were in a pile beside me. My bikini was nowhere to be found.

I got dressed, and I slowly walked back to my great grandmother's mansion. My boobs bounced as I walked, and Brian's cum dripped out a little and down my thigh. I had accomplished a lot: I had set in stone my slut status among my cousins; I had achieved three fabulous climaxes, naked on the beach, in the Hamptons, no less; and I had learned the identity of Mr. X. My bikini was flying from the lightning rod of the servants' quarters, kind of like the flag of the mansion, you know? I didn't go anywhere near it.

My next task was to figure out what to do with my newfound knowledge? I'm a creative girl; I'll think of something, I thought to myself.

If you feel up to it, I'd love a comment. Thanks! ~~ JB