Thanksgiving came and it was the normal family nightmare that every adult in America faces. Throughout the day, Cindy and I exchanged awkward glances. We made our jocular barbs at each other as usual, but there was a definite shift in our relationship. The sexual tension between us was getting near critical mass, and it was only made worse when we bumped into each other in the hall.
There was nobody else around, and as we passed each other, I grabbed her arm to stop her.
"How have you been?" I asked, caressing her forearm.
"Okay, I guess," she said. I could tell she was trying to play things off as no big deal.
"I haven't seen you in a while," I said.
"We've been busy," she agreed.
"We need to make some time together soon," I said, moving my hand up to her cheek and caressing it.
She closed her eyes and turned her face into my hand. Her mouth opened and took in my thumb. Her tongue rolled around it the way it had rolled around the head of my cock so long ago, and I was tempted to throw caution in the wind and take her into the master bedroom with total disregard for all the people around.
I pulled my thumb out from her mouth and stooped down to kiss her. She took me in willingly, and our tongues played around with each other for a bit.
Both of us knew we were taking a big risk without much chance for a significant payoff, however, and the kiss lasted much shorter than either of us wanted. We stepped away from each other, and she smiled up at me with her beautiful bright eyes.
"Soon," she agreed. With that, she turned and continued down the hall.
The rest of Thanksgiving was the usual chore of entertaining cooking, serving, and cleaning. The only other high point was when my cousin Bethany made her surprise arrival.
I had not seen Bethany in several years. She was two years younger than I, and we had been very close growing up. Out of all my cousins, she was the only one that I really enjoyed spending time with.
She was quite eccentric, dressing in second-hand clothes and taking up random causes that I had hardly ever heard about. But she was not the prototypical activist radical hippie-wanna-be; she was always immaculately clean and always approached her newest crusade with a level-headedness that was all too uncommon amongst her peers. She was one of the most intelligent people I knew, and we both shared a passion for writing. Several nights when we were at our grandmother's house, Bethany and I would stay up reading and critiquing each other's work. Whereas I was a better technical writer, she always seemed to know the best way to evoke emotions out of her writing.
She had grown into a good-looking young woman. Her time in California (for some cause or another) had bronzed her skin and lightened her long brown hair. She was small in stature, but she was very toned from studying a number of martial arts. Her hazel eyes had a light to them that spoke of how she embraced life and all its challenges.
It was great to see her, and I spent a good deal of time talking to her. She had just gotten into town, and all the hotels in the city were booked, so I offered to let her stay in our spare bedroom.
Finally, everyone left and/or went to bed and I was left alone to my thoughts. Though I had been thrilled to see Bethany, my mind focused on my brief encounter with Cindy in the hallway. We seemed to be cursed to never be together.
I was filled with a lot of different emotions: frustration, lust, disappointment, hopelessness, excitement, and just a general malaise from the stress of another holiday. I realized that what I needed was a good session of writing.
I decided to write a narrative on my recent exploits, starting with the first night I brought Cindy to orgasm. I was amazed out how clearly I could remember the exquisite details: the feel of her skin, the softness of her lips when I first kissed her in her apartment, the electricity that had coursed down my body the first time she touched my genitals.
I wrote several pages in that one sitting, and I was getting more than a little horny just reminiscing. I had changed into some athletic shorts that were easy enough to cast aside, and I slowly started playing with my cock as I wrote.
I had started writing about that fretful night when it seemed every time Cindy and I got close, something would interrupt us. I was writing about the blowjob she had started to give me when a voice behind me spoke and scared the living daylights out of me.
"That's pretty hot," the voice observed.
I spun quickly in my chair as I tucked my stiff shaft back into my shorts, which provided very little help in hiding my excitement.
Bethany was standing right behind me, reading over my shoulder as I wrote and played with myself. I barely noticed, but her right hand was gently caressing the areola of her left nipple.
"Jesus," I whispered. "I thought you were in bed."
"I was," she answered casually. "You know how I get insomnia sometimes. We both do."
I nodded. Bethany and I had spent many a late night hanging out when neither of us could sleep.
"Did that really happen?" Bethany asked, motioning to the computer monitor.
I was at a loss. Was there really anything appropriate to say at that point? If I admitted it was true, I would look like an unbelievable scumbag. If I lied and said they did not happen, I would still look like a raving pervert.
Either way, I now had to trust Bethany to keep my biggest secret.
"It's pretty bad, huh?" I asked, not knowing what else to say.
To my surprise, she shrugged. "Sure, it's bad, but so what? Everyone likes to be bad every once in a while."
"Yeah, but with one's sisters-in-law?" I asked, and then immediately realized my slip of the tongue.
"You've fooled around with BOTH?" she asked incredulously.
