Sleepover 24

"So, where are you going?" Thomas asked as he sat in his parents' kitchen with his cousin, Stella, while her kid and his parents were watching some kids' movie in the living room.

"It's a play; not sure what it is. Kyle asked me to go with him; some friend of his is involved in the production. Works behind the scenes. The reviews are pretty good, though some say it's too extreme or whatever. We'll see."

"Kyle? Isn't that your personal trainer?"

"Yup," she replied, then pouted her lips as she applied some lipstick. "Too much? No? Good. Yeah, anyway, we're friends too, so..." She stopped and shrugged her shoulders before looking into the small mirror she had put on the table and started fixing her shoulder-length blonde hair.

He waited for her to speak again. Sure, they had a good relationship but it'd never been the type of relationship where they'd talk about dates, sex, and the rest. Besides, he didn't really care to know about her sexual life and he was confident the feeling was mutual.

"Well, I'm done," she said as she put her makeup kit and the small mirror in her large, black purse. "How do I look?"

"Pretty good."

"There's a big difference between pretty good and

pretty

, or beautiful, you know."

"Fine," he rolled his eyes. "You look beautiful. Better?"

"Was that so hard?" She giggled and got up.

The high-heeled ankle boots, the skin-tight black leather pants, and the sleeveless white top that did not conceal the fact she was not wearing a bra betrayed her real intention behind the date.

She was almost eight years older than him. He was just a kid when she was in high school; he could still remember feeling envious whenever he learned she was dating someone but it was more the kind of envy boys feel when their mothers date someone.

Now, at thirty-three, he had gotten over it; probably. He lit a cigarette. Once he had smoked it, he'd go upstairs to his apartment, watch some football and, perhaps, have some coffee. He jumped when a ringtone he didn't recognize blared across the apartment.

"Yes?" She said as she walked past the open kitchen door and headed toward the bedrooms on the other side of the apartment. "What? Are you okay?" He heard her say but decided to remain seated.

He could still hear her voice but couldn't make out the words. Soon, she clambered back toward the kitchen and the living room, her high heels clicking on the floor.

"Is everything okay?" His mom asked her.

"Yes. It's just that something happened and Kyle won't be able to make it. And he has the tickets, so I can't even go to the play."

"Oh, I'm sorry, honey," she said and rushed to give her a hug.

"It's fine, it's fine," Stella said. "Guess I'll just go home, watch a movie or something."

"Well, if you want," he interjected, "you can come upstairs to my place. We can have some coffee, or wine, or whatever. I'd take you out but, to be honest, I'm a bit tired."

"Know what?" She bit the corner of her lips. "I could definitely use some wine."

"Great. Shall we, then?"

"Yup." After she kissed her son, uncle, and aunt goodnight, they both walked up to the fourth floor, where his apartment was.

"Well, sorry for the mess, I wasn't expecting anyone," he said as he opened the front door and beckoned her to enter.

"Right, because I've always been known to keep my home in pristine condition, huh? I think our moms' neat-freak gene skipped us. Maybe my son will get it."

"You really think so?" He chortled.

"Hasn't shown any signs of it, but, who knows?"

"Hell, maybe we actually have the gene and it'll just activate when we're old--well, old

er

."

"Fuck you," she scoffed.

"Have a seat," he pointed at the couch. "So, what do you want to drink? I've got white wine--no red wine, sorry--some bourbon, gin, I think tequila...beer, definitely."

"Are you running a speakeasy? Well, I wouldn't mind a whiskey on the rocks."

"Some Jim Beam rocks coming right up."

He grabbed a half-empty bottle standing in the bookcase, surrounded by various other bottles, and took it to the kitchen. As he tossed some ice cubes in two lowball glasses, he looked down at his black sweatpants--that sported several cigarette burns all over the crotch and upper thigh area--and stained t-shirt.

His attire was the exact opposite of what she was wearing. It's the beauty of hanging out with family; not having to give a damn about looking your best. He filled the glasses to the brim, put the bottle under his arm, and took everything back to the living room.

"Jesus," she chuckled, "that's your idea of a drink?"

"What do you mean?" He arched his eyebrow as he looked at her genuinely curious.

"Most people fill the glass up to here, at most," she said and put her index finger on the middle of the lowball glass. "Many bars would charge you for a double for it, actually."

"This is my apartment, so you don't have to worry about paying for a double. It's on the house, and I do like the sight of a full glass. Cheers," he said and they touched glasses.

They both had a sip and she leaned back on the couch, crossing her legs while steadying the glass on her thigh--a small wet spot instantly appeared on her pants.

"You might want to be careful," he said, pointing at the glass. "Leather pants look great but it looks like they are not very stain-friendly."

"Nah, it's fine," she shrugged and brought the rim of the glass to her lips, taking a good swig.

"You're really bummed about your date getting canceled, huh?"

"No, not really, I mean..." She stuttered, paused, and leaned forth to grab her pack of cigarettes out of her purse. She lit one and chased the first long drag with another good swig of her drink. "Okay, maybe a little, yes. I mean, he said something about a family emergency and while

I know

it sounds like an excuse, I can't think of why he'd cancel for no good reason."

"I mean, sure, it probably was a real emergency," he said, uncertain of how he could phrase it without further hurting her.

"It's not like we're dating, or even flirting, you know? We're just friends, and there's also the professional relationship, since he's training me. I mean, I do pay for the sessions but I get the friends' discount."

"Well, you do look too bothered," he noted after lighting a cigarette.

"It shows, huh?" She said with a dry chuckle. "I guess, it's because I probably hope we'll be more than friends, you know? He's a very nice guy, and super

hot

, and...well," she paused to have another sip, "it's been quite a long while since I last got laid. Being a single mother to a young kid doesn't do wonders to one's sex life."

"I can imagine it's harder, but you still look good for..." He snapped his mouth mid-sentence. He was about to say

for your age

but, this time, it didn't feel appropriate to make fun of her for being older than him. Age jokes would only make her feel worse.

"Thanks for not saying it," she giggled.

"I do mean the looking good part. And that guy--Kyle, right?--will ask you out again. Besides, it's not like he can ghost you, all things considered. And, at any rate, there are plenty of guys out there that would love to go out with you."

"Thanks, cuz," she said and bit the corner of her lips. "So, how about you? Seeing anyone?"

"Not right now, no. I may not have kids but I'm not going out very often. Don't really feel like it."

"Don't you miss it?"

"Not that much, to be frank. Neither going out to bars nor dating. I've got other things to worry about to add dating to the list."

"Just be careful. Right now, you have the luxury of thinking you can go out there at any given moment, go back to the dating game, have fun and all that. You'll eventually reach an age where you won't be able to. At my age, with a demanding job, and a kid, I just don't have the opportunities. You'll miss it once you can't have it anymore."

"Bourbon makes you philosophical, huh?" He chortled and clinked his glass on hers. They both had a swig and he topped off both glasses.

"You're not joking around when it comes to drinking, huh?"

"Not a word to your uncle and aunt, hear me?"

"Mum's the word," she shook her head and mimicked the act of closing a zip over her curled-up lips. "Although, I'm not sure I should drink much more. I do have to drive home, after all."

"If you want, you can sleep here. I've got a double bed in there."

"You sure?"

"It's not like I'm expecting a hot date, or have anything urgent to do. My plan was to watch a movie or two."

"Well," she let out a deep sigh, which she chased with a hefty gulp of bourbon, "I'm gonna take you up on your offer."

"Great. And no worries, there are more bottles around."

"I can see that," she pointed at the bookcase.

"Oh, I meant in the closets in the bedroom. These are mainly for show. I keep most of my bottles hidden, in case my parents come up here. Don't want them knowing how much I drink."

"I have a feeling I should lecture you about heavy drinking."

"I wouldn't listen. So, I've got some clothes you can wear. Sweatpants and T-shirts. I imagine leather pants were not made for sleeping?"

"Never tried it but yeah, I imagine that's not what they were made for. Okay, let's go."

She followed him into the bedroom; he opened the closet and handed her a pair of grey sweatpants and a rather old t-shirt with an almost plunging V-neck after almost a decade of use (and a lot of boxing with it during drunk moments).

"You're not hungry, are you?" He asked.

"Nope."

"Okay. I'll go back to the living room, so you can change."

"Thanks, cuz," she said when he exited the bedroom. He glanced over his shoulder, taken aback by the fact she didn't close the door before she started undressing, but didn't linger on for more than a second to watch her struggle to take her pants off.

He sat on the couch, lit a cigarette, and drank. He had wanted to be alone but only because he was so used to it. Used to the freedom of watching whatever he wanted while drinking as much as he wanted. On the other hand, it could be nice having someone to drink with for a change, even if it was his cousin.

By the time he had crushed the cigarette in the ashtray, she returned to the living room. The sweatpants looked like a great fit--despite himself, he noticed the outline of her thong through them--but the t-shirt had been so (ab)used that it dropped over her shoulder, almost exposing her breasts.

If she were busty, it would have looked like a sexy top on her. He shrugged the weird thoughts off his mind. "Can get you another t-shirt," he said. "Hadn't realized the neck had been so opened up."

"It's fine," she smiled and scratched her naked shoulder, further lowering the neck of the t-shirt. "How long have you had it?"

"Ten years, at least. I often sleep in it, it probably explains its condition."

"I've got some clothes like that, too. Too worn-out to wear in public but too comfortable to throw away."

They put a movie on the TV, opting for a comedy. While the movie was funny, there were a couple of sex scenes in it; the type of scenes that often make movie-watching with family awkward; there was even a scene of male full-frontal nudity and, out of instinct, he peered at her to catch her reaction.

By the end of the movie, the bottle of Jim Beam was empty and he got up. "Shall we stick to bourbon?"

"I think so, yes," she nodded. "Thanks for letting me sleep here; I'm having way more fun here than if I'd gone home."

"It is fun, yes," he concurred and went to the bedroom to grab a bottle of Evan Williams from the closet.

When he exited the bedroom, he found her leaning against the wall right outside the room, biting the corner of her lips into a meaningful smirk.

"The bathroom's right there," he said and nodded toward the door to her left.

"Oh, that's not what I'm looking for," she said and, without any forewarning, grabbed him by the crotch.

He grunted and his eyes goggled as her grip tightened around his scrotum. He managed to hold onto the bottle at the last second as the neck almost slipped from his fist.

"Wow, hey," he mumbled, as booze had only engendered a soft dizziness in his head. "What are you doing?"

"Well, cuz, we're both rather lonely, aren't we?" She whispered in his ear as she pressed her body against his, her grip closed around his member. "That's why you gave me

this

t-shirt, knowing it'd show a lot of skin."

"That's not why I did it...didn't think about it."

Her lips were right next to his ear, her hot breath sending shivers across his skin, and almost involuntarily, his prick began engorging. "Well,

someone

seems to like what's happening," she commented.

She squeezed even harder and started sucking on his earlobe. Shivers went down his spine and all he could do to maintain his focus was to hold on to the bottle.

"Come on, give me that," she wrung the bottle off his hand and set it down on the floor. Then, she thrust her hand inside his sweatpants and boxers. His eyes bulged when her warm hand came in direct contact with his erect cock.

When she started rubbing and stroking his center, his knees began to tremble and his brain worked overtime in vain efforts to process the whole thing. Her slow, methodical movements forced more blood down to his already-throbbing member while a part of him was silently screaming in anguish, demanding he put an end to the whole thing before it escalated.

They were first cousins, it was wrong,

wrong,

insisted the rational part of his brain. As more of his blood migrated south, rationality kept on losing more ground. After blowing a long kiss on his tense cheek, she went down on her knees and yanked his sweatpants down, letting out a giggle when his prick jumped and smacked her on the jaw.

"Relax, cuz," she said, "we both need this, wouldn't you say?"

He pressed the back of his head against the wall and bit his lips down, refusing to allow any moans of pleasure to leave his mouth as she started massaging his balls. While cupping his ball sac with one hand, she rolled his foreskin back and stole a lick of the gleaming mushroom head of his tool.

"Fuck," he muttered under his heavy breath when she wrapped her lips around the head, twirling her tongue around it while staring up at him.

For a few moments, he let his hands hover above her head while her glistening green eyes bore holes into his soul; she started taking more of him in her mouth, causing more shivers to go up his spine and into his brain, gradually annihilating his lingering doubts.

Something inside him insisted that putting his hands on the back of her head would signal the crossing of the final line, that

that

was the point of no return; as if her having his dick in her mouth was fine as long as he didn't touch her.

While she bobbed her head on his shaft while massaging his stiffened balls, he did his absolute best to resist the urge to give in. As long as he restrained himself, as long as he resisted (or pretended to, anyway), it wasn't wrong. Cursing under his breath, he put both hands on the back of her head and buried her nose in his trimmed pubic hair.

Her nails dug into his buttocks as she gagged on his member. He finally dropped his gaze and met her tearing-up glimmering eyes. Tightening his grip around her hair, he began bobbing her head, her gurgling and slurping sounds reverberating in the air and landing thunderously in his ears.

It was still wrong, he knew that, but the wetness and warmth that had engulfed his cock allowed him to ignore it. When her nails scratched his skin harder, forcing him to let go of her hair, she yanked her head back and twitched her lips into a smirk while drool dripped down her chin.

"I knew you wouldn't resist for long," she gave him a wink right before getting back up to her feet.

Her hand went around his soaked in her spit prick and practically dragged him toward the couch. She sat down on the couch, spreading her legs wide open and pulling him closer. Her lips went around his member once more, and she bobbed her head, following the stroking movement of her hand with her mouth.

His body temperature rose and his legs began to quake as she increased her pace, tightening her grip around his dong while sucking off every last sliver of resistance from his body like a vacuum cleaner.

He pulled his body back, leaving her gaping up at him for a moment, and bit the corner of his lips before helping her out of the t-shirt. He gulped at the sight of her naked chest; he'd seen breasts before but a tiny voice in his head kept reminding him that it was his cousin's tits he was staring at.

Her fingers crawled around his neck and she pulled him down on top of her as she laid back on the couch. She thrust her tongue down his throat. She wrapped her legs around his waist while sucking on his tongue with a hunger he had not encountered before. Using her legs, she pushed him down on her, forcing his engorged member to rub against her crotch.

"Come on, cuz," she said as she started pushing his head down. "Get me all ready, will you?"

She arched her lower back as he accepted the push, and the message behind it, and planted kisses all over her chest and flat stomach. He kept his focus on her stomach for a few moments, licking her belly button, just to avoid lowering her sweatpants.

It was the final frontier, the one thing that stopped them from reaching the end of the sinful path. As she looked down on him with shimmering eyes and while licking her lips, he jerked both her sweatpants and her g-string down, pulling them off her ankles and tossing them to the floor.

Then, he turned his gaze back at the sight of his naked cousin lying on the couch with one foot touching the floor and the other leg draped over the couch's back. Her pink, shaved pussy was looking at him, looking like a judgmental eye.

For a moment, he froze, almost hearing her pussy talking to him: "are you sure about this? are you really gonna eat me out?"

He closed his eyes and buried his head between her legs, starting with massaging and kissing her silky thighs. That personal trainer of hers sure had done wonders with her, as her leg muscles were damn firm. While doing his best to subdue his reluctance, he moved towards her cunt.

The forbidden fruit tasted salty as he ran his tongue across her pussy lips. He took her clit in his mouth and flapped his tongue around it, doing it faster as her body started to squirm. Her fingers dug into his hair, her nails scratching his scalp.

While he sucked on her throbbing clit, he brought his right hand to her pussy, and started poking at her with his index and middle finger. First, he rubbed her labia, feeling her increasing moistness on his fingertips.

"Fuck, yes," she said with a low moan when he thrust both fingers inside her. He moved his fingers in and out--gently rotating them as much as the rather uncomfortable angle of his hand allowed--while swirling his tongue fast around her clit.

She bloomed and got even wetter, and he shoved a third finger inside her. He kept his fingers wedged inside her and moved them up and down in a beckoning movement, tickling her inner walls while she squirmed and grunted, rolling her lower body against his fingers.

"Come on, cuz,

fuck

me," she said in a low, deep voice. "I need you inside me

now

."

His cock throbbed and he almost ejaculated on the couch just by hearing the words. He drew a couple of deep breaths and met her

begging

gaze. Slowly, hesitantly, he crawled up to her; instantly, she thrust her tongue in her mouth and closed her legs around his waist, pressing his cock against her dripping pussy.

The wetness and warmth of her outer labia brushed against his prick, sending shivers down his spine. "Wait, wait," he mumbled, "I gotta grab a rubber. I mean..."