We’d visited my uncle and aunt many times before, and usually, the first night we stayed, they’d go out together for dinner and drinks. When we were really little, they’d hire a babysitter for Hank and me, but the last few times, they figured Hank was old enough to watch out for both of us. This year I was tired of feeling baby-sat and told Hank so. My cousin wasn’t that much older than me, and I could take care of myself.
Hank didn’t know why I was so angry, but of course he got angry too. We had a HUGE fight, yelling and screaming and tears and everything. I have no idea how we ended up kissing, One moment I was pounding my fists on his broad chest in frustration, the next, he had caught my wrists, and our lips were pressing against each other’s.
Neither of us had done anything like this before. I mean I’d certainly been looking at boys, and thinking about boys, and imagining about boys, but… I’d never done anything about -or with- boys. And until now I’d never thought of Hank as a boy, just my cousin. I knew Hank didn’t have a girlfriend, because he certainly complained about it sometimes, but in the same way we complained to each other about too much homework.
But kissing Hank was… easy; like we both knew exactly what to do already. And, since I was so much shorter, it was easy for me to kiss lower, to the stubbly part of his chin, and his neck, and above where his shirt was buttoned. My fingers undid that button without even my thinking about it, and I kissed lower on his chest. His hands were on my shoulders, and then slid down to my hips, and up under my shirt, I moaned into his skin as his fingers slid up my sides. Our clothes came off piece by piece, each new bit of skin explored by fingers or lips. I was shivering even though I felt burning hot. We didn’t even pause when we we got down to the last underclothes. We’d had baths in the same tub… ten years ago or more, and to me anyway I didn’t think that seeing Hank naked, or him seeing me would be weird in any way.
It wasn’t weird now either. Not at all, it was beautiful. He was beautiful, and I did pause to stare at him when he stood up from taking off his boxers. He looked at me quizzically for a moment, and then let his eyes travel down and up my body, and the look on his face changed – going wide eyed and hungry like I felt. After only a breath or two of this, we reached for each other. His cock twitched at my touch. It was so warm in my hand. And then his hand was between my legs, and I squeaked and then moaned out loud, but that got muffled by his lips as he kissed me again.
I’d had ‘the talk’ with my mom and knew that first times were sometimes – often? – painful affairs. Somewhere in the back of my mind there was a thrill of fear and trepidation, but I wasn’t listening to it. We had been in the living room, when the fight started, and we’d moved very little, standing there surrounded by discarded clothes. I didn’t know if Hank was feeling as lightheaded as I was, but he was the one who slowly staggered back to sit on the chaise. I followed him, tightly gripping his cock, and basically climbed onto his lap as he sat. I straddled him, and the view of his cock pointing up at my pussy burned into my mind. I’d never seen or felt myself so wet before. The need that gripped me was new, frighteningly intense. Undeniable. Before I could think twice about it, before Hank could do more than open his mouth to speak, I’d placed the head of his cock at my parted slit and basically just dropped myself onto his lap.
The short, sharp spike of ripping pain made me screech, and poor Hank was momentarily paralyzed. To him, it only felt good, but through my shock I could see the distress and concern on his face mixing with the pleasure. He brought his arms to my sides as if to help lift me off and I leaned forward into him and hugged him tight, letting out one big sob as I felt the massive intrusion of him inside me. That wasn’t part of the pain. That was part of a new sensation the likes of which I’d barely imagined before. I held him tight, breathing deep and feeling him, and his hands slowly slid to return my embrace. His breathing was also hard, too, and we just sat there for I don’t know how long, not daring to move until, suddenly he gasped and twitched underneath me and with an ‘Oh my God!’ breathed in my ear, his cock jerked inside me, and I felt the strangest, liquid pressure, adding to the tight tight fullness already there.
Slowly I pulled back from our hug and looked at him. His face was a twisted display of pleasure and confusion.
“Did you…?” I asked.
“I… think so?” He gasped. He was still twitching inside me, and it was driving me crazy. And I had do something about it.
I shifted my hips and we both hissed. Him from sensitivity, me partly from the fading pain of my torn hymen, but mostly because the sensation of him moving inside me was insanely good. I moved more, rocking slowly forward and back, feeling him slide a little out and then back in, feeling the pleasure quickly drown out the last of the pain. I picked myself up a little, looked down and saw his shaft, smeared pink with my blood and his cum, emerge from inside me, and then disappear again as I sank down. We both groaned together, and I had to do it again. And again. I went faster and harder, lifting higher and dropping down onto him until he filled me all the way. I realized I was fucking him. And it felt deliriously good. I was fucking Hank.
I heard someone murmuring “fuck, fuck, fuck” each time I sat down on him, and realized it was me. Something was about to happen, I felt like I was going to burst like an over-filled balloon. When my orgasm hit, it took me by surprise. Of course I’d played with myself, with some frequency, and made myself cum with my fingers, but this was unlike anything I’d ever experienced. The hard shaft in me, the heat and strength of Hank’s body under me, inside me. His breath on my skin, the smell of his sweat. It all overwhelmed me and I cried out, cumming like I never had before. I could feel the muscles inside me clamp down hard around Hank and squeeze, and his shaft responding. His hands, which had been exploring my legs and sides and breasts, suddenly gripped my hips and as I ground down on him, shuddering. His hips surged up to me and his cock pulsed as if in response to me. I realized he was cumming again, and the knowledge drove me higher than I thought possible. I heard my own scream, and Hank’s own exclamation as we peaked together, and finally collapsed. I fell limply onto him, shivering with after-shocks of pleasure as our breathing and heart rates slowed.
I think we dozed for a little bit like that. I started awake only when Hank’s softening cock finally slipped out of me, along with a gush of pink-stained cum. We both instantly realized the potential for serious, unexplainable mess, and I ran, still naked, into the kitchen to grab paper towels. Well, sort of ran. I had to keep a hand clamped between my legs to not drip onto the floor. We cleaned up quickly, and very thoroughly, too concerned with that to worry about getting dressed yet. Well, until the very end, because as I was wiping the floor under the chaise one last time on hands and knees, I felt Hank’s hand on my hip, and the blunt head of his cock nuzzling my pussy lips. I froze at the touch of his hand, and gasped at the touch of his cock. And before I knew it, my knees spread apart on the floor. My head lowered and my back arched, and Hank growled behind me, pushing forward. His cock surged into me, and his other hand grasped my other hip.
I’d been the one fucking Hank the first time. This time Hank fucked me, and the difference between the two was like night and day. Hank fucked me. Hard and fast enough to make slapping noises against me when he thrust forward. Hard and fast enough to take my breath away. Enough to make me cum again, and be just coming down from it when he roared and slammed against me one last time in his own orgasm.
When we disentangled from that, we realized we had to clean up again, but something was different. The air was charged. We were tired, spent for the moment but neither of us had had enough. I didn’t know about Hank, but I was hooked. Lust blind. We cleaned up quickly, maybe not quite as carefully as the first time, but good enough. We gathered up our clothes to throw in our respective rooms, and met again in the bathroom.
The adults would not be back until at least 11, and it wasn’t even 8 yet. Hank and I fucked several more times. Once on the toilet, because we thought it might make cleanup easier (we were sort-of right about that). Once in the shower when we thought we might be done (we were definitely wrong about that). That’s also when I took Hank’s cock in my mouth for the first time, and the first time he went down on me. That was yet another new kind of orgasm, and I think we were lucky that he lived in the outer suburbs, because the screams he drew from me with his mouth and tongue between my legs would have had the entire apartment building where I lived in the city calling the police. We used up all the hot water in the shower, and then clambered out laughing and drying each other off. I gave a little shriek when Hank finished with the towel and picked me up in is arms, like I weighed nothing. He smiled down at me and carried me from the bathroom to his room, where he laid me gently on his bed, and then climbed on. I saw he was hard again, and smiled up at him, reaching for his face, and parting my legs to let him settle between.
I think that was the first time I -we- made love, which was different from fucking, and different from being fucked. And I learned there was yet another kind of orgasm.
After that, we were completely exhausted. After Hank’s cock had emptied its last inside me, he pulled out, and kissed me as long and deep as the first time, and sank down next to me, wrapping me in his arms. I fell asleep almost immediately.
The rumbling sound of the garage door woke us both with a start. Hank was spooned around me, and it felt almost too good to move even then, but we both knew I had to get to my room. We didn’t even kiss as I scrambled out of his bed, still naked, and darted down the hall to the guest room I used. It was funny – until just a year or two ago, Hank and I had shared a room when we visited. Hank was older then than I was now. It would have made things a little easier now, but I had my panties and nightshirt on and was under my covers just as the door closed from the adults returning.
I had enough time to slow my breathing a little and pretend to be asleep when Dad came to check on me. I heard Uncle Ken down the hall ask Hank how his book was. As Dad kissed my cheek I felt a little drip of cum slip out of me and dampen my panties, but I didn’t move. I really was tired though, because I don’t even remember Dad closing the door on the way out.
I slept very late the next morning, and found my body, my insides, sore in a way I’d never before experienced as I got up. But it made me smile, and remember.
The rest of the visit was a lot like all the other visits. Though Hank and I not getting into any arguments at all was noticed by the adults and commented on as signs of maturity in their kids. It impressed them enough that our last night there, after a big two-family dinner, the adults felt comfortable enough to go out for goodbye drinks by themselves and leave us in the house one last time. Hank and I took full advantage. That night, almost by accident, I made him cum in my mouth for the first time, and learned I liked his taste, and that swallowing cum meant no mess to clean up. We also learned that Hank could make me cum non-stop until I nearly blacked out by just not stopping licking me when I started to go off, even when I was pulling his hair hard to get him away. And well, we learned more things than that, too. Like that maybe we were falling in love.
Hank and I have been texting each other constantly since then. We don’t talk about the last visit at all. We don’t talk about what we’re feeling. But we’re both looking forward to my family’s next visit.
I can’t wait.