Since this is Chapter 2, it stands to reason you should go back and read Chapter 1 first. Don't worry, Chapter 2 will still be here when you get back.
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If you're adamant about jumping right in, I was writing about the summer my cousin Kit and I were 18. It was the summer of 1967 and we were living in East Texas at the time (which was, socially, pretty much the mid-50s anywhere else). Staying with our grandmother for a few days, well, one thing led to another (this is why you should read Chapter 1) and we ended up in her bed discovering the joys of fucking.
Two days before the end of our stay, we'd already plowed through the 12-pack of condoms she'd managed to pick up on an errand into town. Buying more was problematic -- Gran lived fifteen miles from the nearest half-a-horse town, and Kit was lucky that when she stepped into the pharmacy, a girl just a few years older than us was behind the counter -- and the possibility of pregnancy was unthinkable, so Kit offered me oral sex.
"Offered" is the operative word. Remember, there was no Internet in 1967, and we'd never seen any magazines that might have given us a clue. "Blowjobs" were something we'd only heard about.
Suffice to say that Kit's first attempt was not only unsuccessful, but made me almost scream out in pain. The thought flashed through my head of having to drive 15 miles into town to ask Doc Darrell -- the doctor who'd given me a tetanus shot during an earlier visit ten years earlier and who must be over 100 by now -- to put my penis in a splint.
The following night, our last night there, I turned down her half-hearted offer to try again. She stripped off my briefs and began stroking my cock. I responded by pulling off her panties and sinking my fingers into my first-ever pussy. She grabbed my hand and pressed my thumb against her clit, an organ I'd only known by reputation, but I figured out what to do.
I actually made her cum first, but I followed seconds later. Then she turned her body around and brought her mouth near my cock. I stiffened -- out of apprehension, not in the
good
way -- and she said "Don't worry, I only want to taste."
She licked the cum off the shaft of my cock, then brought her mouth to the head, and lightly sucked off the cum there.
Gradually, she extended her lips over the head, licking the tip with her tongue.
My cock, already sensitive from being jerked off and cumming, was almost hard again.
She sucked it gently.
I started lifting my pelvis, trying to get her to take more of my cock, and she did, very slowly. "Please," I whimpered.
"Please what?" she said, somehow comprehensible with two inches of cock in her mouth.
"Suck... my... cock."
She grinned, and took a little more of my cock into her mouth. But slowly, very slowly.
"Suck harder," I said. "Please!"
Part of me was still apprehensive, after what happened yesterday, but this was torture: wonderful, incredible torture, but torture all the same.
She started sucking harder, really pulling my cock inside of her, and then without any warning, I came. It felt as if I came just as hard as I had a few minutes earlier, though I know that probably wasn't so.
Kit started choking, coughing out my cum onto my body, and laughing.
And the next thing I knew, she was waking me up. According to the old clock on the dresser, it was a quarter to 5. "You fell asleep," Kit said. "I must have drained you. And then I wanted to fall asleep next to you. Good thing I woke up before Gran woke up."
"Yeah," I said, pulling on my briefs and pajama bottoms and dashing out the door to my own room. Part of me thought I should kiss her before I left -- but we knew we weren't boyfriend-and-girlfriend: we were cousins, who were just wrestling around like we always did. Even though we'd clearly gone well beyond wrestling.
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Back home, I could drive a town or two over and screw up the courage to buy condoms -- even if somebody recognized me, nobody would suspect I'd be using them with my cousin -- but we seemed unlikely to ever
get to
use them: my mother and her mother were both home during the day. And it's not as if we could go out on actual dates, parking a car someplace secluded.
I'd somehow believed that once I started having sex, my jerking-off days would be over. I certainly learned better.
And it certainly didn't help that there was very little to do in our town in the summer but go to the municipal pool, where I'd see Kit in her bikini almost every day.
And she usually hung out with her best friend Theresa, a gorgeous Italian girl on whom I'd had a crush all through high school. Her family was from southern Italy, and her olive-brown skin was as exotic as anybody got in our town in 1967.
At least this meant I could stare at Kit and Theresa and people would only figure I was staring at Theresa. I had a feeling my crush was hardly a secret to anybody in town.
(I'd also believed that once I started having sex, I'd get over my natural shyness with girls)
The closest Kit and I got to anything sexual the first week back was when I stopped by her house to pick her up -- she lived between my house and the pool, so we usually walked over together -- and she called down to her mother "I'm all ready, but I want to show Steve something. Can you send him up?"
I got upstairs, opened the door to her room, and found her standing there wearing nothing but bikini bottoms, her hands on her hips. "This is what I wanted to show you. Do you like it?"
Did I ever. "You also told your mom you were ready," I pointed out.
"Whoops. Lied about that one," she said," reach for her bikini top.
"Wait," I said, and walked over to her and gave each nipple a long, sucking kiss, feeling them get swollen and hard.
"Hey!" she said in half-hearted protest.
"Fair's fair," I said, stepping back and watching her tie her bikini top in place, enjoying the sight of her nipples poking at the nylon. Hey, if she's going to leave me horny, I can leave
her
horny.
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