Arina

About six months shy of my 40th birthday, I felt like a guy with all the luck in the world. I had just received a promotion in a successful job, I had a loving and devoted wife, and I lived in a very prestigious area in Northern California. If I had to "complain" about anything at all it was that my job as a consultant, which paid well, required me to travel almost weekly. But even with this tedious duty I managed to take advantage of the situation when I could, because in traveling throughout the Western United States I often got to visit otherwise distant relatives and friends on the company dime.

This week I was looking forward to seeing my dear cousin, Karina, also just shy of 40, who lived with her husband and two kids in the southern part of Washington State. Business was taking me to Karina's town for a couple of days, and when I called her to see if she'd be interested in getting together she not only agreed but also insisted that I stay in the guest room rather than a boring cookie-cutter corporate hotel. Karina and I had always been close, more like brother and sister than cousins, so I knew it would be a very nice mini-reunion with her and her family as well as a business trip.

As cousins, Karina and I were particularly close due to how much time we spent together as youngsters. As the child of a single mom who had to work very hard all year long, I spent most of my elementary school summers with my aunt and uncle, and of course their daughter Karina. From about the time I was six or seven until around the middle of my high school years, I would live with my aunt and uncle for nearly three months each summer, and they very warmly welcomed me to their family and provided wonderful support so my mother could work to keep a roof over our heads back home without having to worry about me when not in school. I certainly missed my mom during these summers, and I know she missed me, but in modern life reality required this arrangement throughout my youth. Nevertheless, getting to escape like this in the summer was fun, because I grew up in a major metropolis, and Karina's family lived in a very tiny mountain town up north. Throughout the formative years of my youth, I got a nice balance between the life of a city slicker and a country bumpkin. And through those years, Karina and I grew remarkably close, each enjoying each other as a "summer sibling." It was the best of both worlds of having a temporary brother-sister relationship while still being only children to our own parents.

Over the years, as college progressed into careers for each of us, I remained a citizen of the big city, and I found a wonderful woman to call my wife these past 10 years. And Karina had found a great husband, a doctor no less, who moved with her to a town in Washington that was remarkably similar to the small mountain town in which she'd grown up. While my wife and I did not have any kids, Karina and her husband had two wonderful boys, six and eight, who called me "Uncle Mike" even though I was technically their cousin. Although separated geographically, Karina and I regularly kept in touch and remained close in spirit if far by physical distance.

When Karina opened the door to welcome me on her front porch it was the first time we'd seen each other in about a year. She looked as healthy and beautiful as always: short frame, blond-ish hair, big brown eyes and a beaming smile. I easily remembered her as being a skinny little tomboy, a rug rat like me, the two of us messing around on some imaginary adventure or another in the woods behind her parents' house. As she had matured into womanhood she'd developed curves in all the places a man would want, particularly in her chest. In seeing her after a spell, I suddenly recalled childhood memories of being quite fascinated with her breasts. Delivering and nursing two children had only caused them to grow...

Karina looked up at my much taller six-foot frame and said, "Michael! You made it! Get in here!" I stepped in, dropped my overnight bag and briefcase to the hardwood floor and embraced her. She kissed me affectionately on the cheek, and I gave her a good squeeze. Like me, entering her late-30s had taken away the "skinny" in her, but also like me I knew she maintained a very active and energetic life, and neither one of us could be considered out-of-shape.

As we loosened our embrace upon one another I noticed a distinct lack of human sounds from the house. Already guessing what I was going to ask, Karina said, "When we were on the phone the other day, I forgot to mention that Ron would be attending a medical seminar in Seattle this week. He took the boys with him to stay with his parents while up that way."

"How wonderful for them," I said. Ron was originally from Seattle, and his folks were wonderful grandparents. Karina was currently taking a noble career hiatus to be a stay-at-home mom, so I realized this week would've been a nice break for her. "I'm sorry I intruded on your family detox week," I added with a grin.

"Oh please, what better way for you and I to catch up without me having to police a pair of two hyper-active boys—three if you add Ron!"

We laughed and headed deeper into the house. I threw my bags into the guest room then joined Karina in the kitchen where she was already at work setting out the makings for cocktails. "I don't know what it is about you, Michael," she said, "but you've always made the best martinis I've ever consumed, and it's been far too long...."

An hour later we were into the second round: fruity Ketel One Cosmopolitans for her, classic Bombay Sapphire gin martinis for me. I teased her about being a terrible host and not providing food, and she quipped back that her orange wedge and my green olives made for the perfect "appetizers." But despite our lightened spirits from the drinks, Karina had managed to whip together a decent dinner of roasted chicken, potatoes and vegetables. During the meal we had switched to wine, and we were halfway through the second bottle of a nice oaky Frank Family Vineyards chardonnay by time the plates were cleared, and we were now lounging in a couple of comfortable all-weather recliners out on her back porch.

Throughout the cocktails, the meal and the wine for "dessert," the conversation flowed nonstop. We caught up on life, talked politics, Ron's medical practice, you name it. Although we hadn't seen each other in a while, it was as if we'd never been apart, two peas in a pod. When we got to discussing her kids, catching up on what they'd been up to since "Uncle Mike" had last seen them, Karina asked about what family my wife and I would someday have...or try to have.

She said, "Have you made no progress on that front?"

I grinned at her, "Certainly not for lack of trying."

"Silly," she giggled, "I mean, have you learned of any new medical options?"

Karina was referring to the fact, which in our openness to each other she knew quite well, that my wife was unable to conceive. I said, "The three different doctors we consulted with pretty much confirmed the same thing. It just doesn't seem to be in the cards for us."

I looked down at my wine. The evening was quite warm, but the topic we'd turned to gave me a brief chill. Although my wife, Melissa, was quite healthy in every other sense, there were some issues with her ovaries that put her ability to conceive at close to nil. I had actually hoped, at one point, that the problem had been with me, so as to at least take the stress off my wife, but more than one test had concluded that my sperm count was quite healthy.

Suddenly sensing that she had killed the mood (and potentially our buzz) Karina blurted, "Oh Michael, I didn't mean to dredge that up. Forget what I asked. If it happens it happens. Let's change the subject."

"Deal," I said, pouring her another glass of chardonnay. "Pick a topic."

"Okay," she said, "Facebook."

"What of it?"

"The other day I got a friend request from Toby Keller. Can you believe that?"

It took me a minute, then I remembered. "Toby Keller? Jesus, wasn't he a guy you dated for about five minutes in high school?"

"That's the one! Sophomore year, let him take me to the spring formal, then a couple of dates after that." After a pause she added, "I didn't accept his friend request. That's ancient history."

I chuckled and took a sip of wine, gazing up at the stars. I said, "What did you see in that guy anyway?"

"He was tall and handsome, like you, Michael."

I lowered my glass and looked at her.

She said, "You impressed upon me the image of what a 'nice guy' should look like, and be like. He looked the part." Another pause, and she giggled, "But he was dumb as a box of rocks."

I chuckled at her last comment, but I got to thinking about what she'd just said earlier. Strange, I didn't recall her ever saying anything like that before. Was she suddenly confessing something truly intimate here? Contemplating this, I hadn't realized I'd fallen into a bit of a reverie...

"Mike...Michael."

I blinked. "Yes."

"Are you still obsessed with them?"

I gave her a puzzled look. "I'm sorry?"

"My boobs. You were staring at them."

I blushed. "Oh Karina, I'm sorry. I was just zoning out."

She chuckled, which of course caused her large milky breasts to jiggle a little. "And your subconscious conveniently sent your gaze to these melons." She gave one of her boobs a light poke with her thumb.

I tried to shrug it off, taking a sip of wine. Then I asked, "And just what did you mean 'still' obsessed with them?"

"Michael, from the time I started forming these goddamned heavy sweater puppies when we were teenagers, I think you forgot what color my eyes are."

I blushed again. "God, was I that obvious?" She nodded, grinning, clearly enjoying my embarrassment. So I asked, "It's been all these years...why didn't you say anything before?"

"Well, to tell you the truth," she said tentatively, her voice dropping a bit, "I've always found it cute."

I grimaced. "Cute?"

She nodded. "And flattering, of course."

"Look, Karina..."

She smiled at me. "Michael, it's okay, really. Growing up I really did find it cute. God only knows how strongly our hormones raged then. I'm sure you couldn't help yourself. And I certainly liked the attention."

I blushed again. "Well, if I really was that obvious, you certainly played it cool."

"Barely," she said softly, suddenly a bit nervous to look me in the eye.

I suddenly looked at Cousin Karina in a new light. This conversation was going in a very interesting direction. What did she mean by that last statement, "barely?" I realized that I could no longer deny the fact that I'd always had a bit of a crush on my cousin, and of course I had always admired her large breasts. But was she hinting that the crush may have been somewhat mutual? I tried to think back at any possible hint that that had been the case when we'd been growing up together...

"Michael?"

"Huh?" I blinked. "Oh crap, I was doing it again, wasn't I?"

"Just a bit."

"Well, we seem to be focusing the conversation on your boobs, so I suppose I can't NOT look!" I paused, then added sheepishly, "Sorry."

She shook her head in amusement. "You just never got it out of your system, I guess. Maybe you should just have yourself a good long stare."

"I thought that's what I've been doing this whole time."

"Hmm...you're right." Karina looked down into her wine glass, contemplating something. Then she grinned, took a long sip of her wine and set the glass aside. She shifted in her chair to face me more directly.

"Give 'em a squeeze," she said.

I almost dropped my glass. "Excuse me?"

"You've been wanting to cop a feel of these babies since we entered puberty. So give 'em a squeeze and get it out of your system."

I stared at her in shock, but I couldn't deny the sensation of the sudden longing to do just what she was asking. Surely it was the wine talking, though.

I said, "Karina, you're drunk, and you don't know what you're saying."

She giggled. "I am drunk, and so are you. But I know exactly what I'm saying. It's very funny to watch you squirm in your seat like that."

I blushed profusely. "I couldn't."

"You could, and it's no big deal. They're just boobs. Here." She scooted forward to the edge of her seat and actually thrust her chest out a little. She was wearing a simple white cotton V-neck t-shirt, and the top of her cleavage was quite pronounced. I had but to extend my arm and I could easily palm one of her glorious globes.

But still I hesitated. I was suddenly a dorky gawky teenager again, completely unprepared with how to deal with the opposite sex. My throat went dry, my heart began to pound, and I felt a desperate erection forming in my pants.

"Michael," my cousin said. "I'm having fun teasing you about this, but if you continue to resist my offer you're going to make it truly awkward, and I'm going to feel embarrassed. So...do it while I'm feeling brave!"

I licked my lips. "My god, Karina, you really are serious."

She nodded.

"I can just reach out and grab them?"

Nodded and winked.

I raised a hand toward her. "I'll do it," I threatened.

"If you've got the guts."

We locked eyes. It was part staring contest, part daring each other. Did I have the guts to grab her boob, or if I reached out further would she lean back and embarrass me for having even tried to grab my own cousin's breast? This could either be a fun semi-drunken little stunt we were pulling with each other, something we could both laugh about later, or we could be crossing a line that could forever alter the course of our otherwise perfect relationship. This was suddenly more than just a little game. And I was suddenly frozen with indecision.

Which Karina quickly unfroze.

She said, "You're such a wimp." And with that, she took the wrist of the hand I was holding up and jerked my hand to her chest.

Suddenly I was squeezing the most perfectly round, perfectly soft, perfectly firm, perfectly perfect breast I had ever felt in my entire life. Seconds went by...minutes, hours? Time simply stopped. What may have been a silly little PG-13-rated goof for her was absolutely invigorating and highly erotic for me. I was now holding on to one of the two most glorious objects I had ever coveted: my cousin Karina's breasts. And through a hazy mist my vision seemed to refocus from where my hand was and slowly back up to Karina's face.

She was smiling.

She wasn't in shock, she wasn't reeling. She was simply smiling. There was more to her smile, too. There was a kind of patient warmth to her look. Despite the almost childlike absurdity of me copping a feel of my cousin's boob, there was also an energy, an attraction, that I could only describe as...inevitable. There was an instinctive comfort about what we were doing, as if at any time in our lives I could have done this whenever I wanted. And now that I was finally doing it, touching my cousin in a blatantly sexual way it was as if we were both telepathically telling each other, "It's about time."

Charged by this energy I decided to double-down in the most literal way: I reached up with my other hand and grabbed her other breast. Rather than recoil from this, Karina actually leaned forward further, quietly pushing her breasts harder into my hands, and this in turn encouraged me to fondle and caress her breasts, in addition to giving them a "teenage squeeze." Karina's breasts were so full, so heavy, so beautiful. She was beautiful. God was she beautiful.

I wanted her. Badly.

That thought must have transmitted directly through my eyes, because when I met Karina's gaze again, she nodded very subtly, but invitingly. So I leaned forward as she did, and as if on autopilot our lips met, very gently, very softly. A tentative kiss, both of us timid and nervous and excited at the same time. Years of unspoken sexual tension between us was being lubricated and freed up by too many martinis followed by much, much too much wine.

The kiss was beautiful. It evolved into a deep, longing tongue-twisting connection between two beings who were suddenly realizing how much they'd always desired each other, despite the family connection, despite the—

We both realized it at the same time, and we both pulled back. I lowered my hands, and Karina leaned back, a bit breathless. She said, "I'm sorry, Michael, I—"

"No, Karina, it's my fault. It was stupid of me, taking advantage of you—both of us drank too much—silly of me—"

"Michael, stop," she said, raising a hand. "We both did a silly thing and we're both responsible for it. Let's just laugh about it and move on."

To symbolize the transition Karina got up and began clearing plates and utensils, making her way to the kitchen. Despite having just acted as immaturely as any man could, I tried to do the gentlemanly thing and help clean up. She was standing at the sink when I approached her with a stack of items in my hand, and as I reached around her to place them into the sink I noticed that she was simply standing there, hands on the rim of the sink, her eyes closed. There was a kind of pained look on her face, and I thought she was getting sick, the combination of too much alcohol and guilt from the kiss.

"Karina," I said, putting a hand on her shoulder, "are you all right?"

The mistake I'd just made was touching her again, but it was a mistake that would change our lives forever. At my touch Karina turned and pressed her face into my chest, her arms looping tightly around my waist. I let the dishes in my one hand crash loudly into the sink as I mirrored her gasp, pulling her tightly into my arms. Within seconds I felt warm moisture near my shoulder, her tears already pouring out.

"I'm sorry, Michael," she said. "Am I disgusting?"

"My god, Karina, of course not!" I put my hand up to her soft hair. "You are quite simply the most wonderful woman I have ever known, and I will always love you."

Sniffling, she pulled back a little to look up at me, her eyes moist. "Love me?"

"I have always loved you, Karina. I love you as my cousin, I love you as a woman. I would be a fool to deny that now. And I'm sorry that what we did tonight has possibly destroyed the wonderful relationship we have always had."

"Oh Michael!" she exclaimed, pressing her face into my chest again. Her voice was muffled and quiet when she continued: "I...I love you too."

"I know," I said, patting her head gently. "I appreciate it."

She pulled back again, "No, Michael, you don't understand. I mean I love you, I have always loved you. And I have to admit it too: I love you not just as a cousin. But as a man."

"But what can we do? What will we do? We're cousins...we're both married...your kids—"

"I didn't say I could explain it, I didn't say I could justify it. I just had to say it."

"As I just did."

"Yes."

I stared at my cousin Karina for several long moments. Arm in arm, we became silent as the night, our eyes locked, our hearts pounding through our chests. The right thing to do would have been to break away from her, run the hell out of this house, run as far as possible. But I did the opposite of the right thing: I pulled her to me even tighter, and I kissed her.

I kissed my cousin. Again. And much more deeply this time, passionately. She kissed me back, equally as passionately. I could taste wine on her breath, the sweet tinge of alcohol, of warm saliva. Her lips were soft, her tongue eager, her breath warm. With the kiss came movement by our hands, all over each other, exploring in an almost desperate way. My hands, of course, went back to her breasts, which she once again eagerly pressed back into me, but also her sides, her ass, her thighs. In an equal frenzy her hands explored my body as well...my chest, my stomach...lower...my crotch.