“Time to take a break,” he said, seemingly to nobody in particular. He reached for a bottle. “It’s orange juice,” he said, wiping sweat off his brow with a newly ungloved hand. His hair was close cropped and he had a hairline that looked like it wasn’t going anywhere. Everything about him, physically, embodied a youth that looked as if it would never deplete, a well that would never dry up. He reached outward with the bottle and offered me a sip. I gladly accepted.
“Wow, that’s got a bite to it!” I cried after taking a big gulp. The drink was spiked with some kind of alcohol.
“Homemade,” he said, winking at me. “I’m off soon, and it helps me wind down a bit, y’know?”
“Does it?” I asked, looking at my watch. It was nearly half past six.
“Yeah, I find it does.”
“Fair enough,” I said, passing him back the bottle. He took a swig from the bottle and then capped it again. He leaned back against a bale of hay and crossed his legs, looking at me.
“So what brings you out here, Cousin Anna?”
“Oh,” I said, swaying a little on the spot, worried that what I was about to say might sound foolish. “I just needed to get out of the city for a while. You know, work hard, play hard, no time to slow down and all that.”
“I know what you mean. I don’t much like going into the city myself. It’s crowded, people are pushy. I like to take it easy. Guess I’m a country boy through and through.”
“That’s exactly what I’ve been thinking for a while, you know? I work in marketing, and–”
“No,” he said, cutting me off. “If you’ve come out here to get away, why talk about work?”
I smiled at him. “You’re right. No work talk, it’s a deal.” My eyes roamed his body, devoured the sight of him. His chest still had a sheen of sweat, as if to highlight his muscular chest. They weren’t beefy, but they were quite obviously firm, and his nipples were like small hard studs, surrounded by clinging areolae, and a few loose strands of hair. He wasn’t hairy for a man, but was deeply tanned. It lent his stomach muscles an added level of definition, the darkness of his skin great for his lines. All I wanted to do, looking at his chest, was run my hands over it, down it. I wanted to feel the bumps of his abs, the bulge of his pecs, the hardness of his small nipples.
“So,” he said, breaking the silence. “How do you like it out here so far? Doing you any good?”
“Yeah,” I said, biting my lip a little. “More than I thought it would. But it’s only my first day, so I’m sure things will get better.”
“Any surprises?”
“Oh, a few here and there, but mainly one big one.”
“Oh yeah, what’s that then?”
I hesitated for the blink of an eye. Should I say it? It was so cheesy it almost made me want to groan in disgust. I decided to go for it. So what if there was a little harmless flirting? He was only a cousin, and I needed to practice, anyway. Otherwise, I’d soon find myself with all my confidence drained away.
“I guess I didn’t expect you to be quite so handsome,” I said, smiling at him.
“Oh?” he said, tilting his head to the side. “You’re not so bad yourself.”
“Thanks.” I couldn’t hold back a smile. It was as if my face muscles were just hell-bent on being in that position.
“So you got a girlfriend?” I asked. “I’m sure you do.”
“Nope,” he stated, matter-of-factly. “No girlfriend, no wife, no partner.”
“Why not?”
He shrugged. “Haven’t always had the best of experiences. I decided I’d just go solo for a while, focus on work, y’know. How about you?”
“Nada,” I said, shaking my head. “And not for lack of trying, either.”
“I’m sure it’s not all that. You’re just waiting.”
“Waiting?”
“To meet the right guy.”
“Right.”
“Guy, right?”
“What? Oh, yeah,” I said. “Definitely.” I looked at him for a moment before laughing and shaking my head.
“Well, if I was a guy who met you one day during work, or one night after, I’d definitely want to get to know you better.”
“Oh, yeah?” I asked, trying to play it cool. I knew he was just saying it, but I had to admit, I liked hearing it.
“Sure. You look great, you smile easily, and you don’t seem dull. What’s not to like?”
“Give me more of that,” I said, pointing at the spiked orange juice. I seriously hoped I wasn’t blushing. I took a big sip, felt the bite, and had to wince and wait it out. “Well, if I were a girl and I bumped into you while you were working, I’d definitely want to get to know you better, too,” I said. I was surprised that I did, and couldn’t believe how corny I was being.
“Is that right?” he said, rising to his feet and walking toward me. His strides were powerful, yet he approached me slowly, deliberately. He pushed his arms out to me, until they were gently guiding me backward by my shoulders. I stepped backward once, twice, three times, four times, before catching the back of my legs on a bale of hay and falling onto it.
I knew I was blushing. I could feel my face burning up. It wasn’t embarrassment, though. It was sheer anticipation, the heat of sex on my mind already reaching the surface of my skin. I lay back against the bale, and put an arm above my head. With my other hand, I gently stroked his face, expecting the skin to be hard. It was surprisingly soft. God, he had such a boyish face. There was hardly a hint of stubble. How old was he anyway?
“So, uh, Matt, how old are you? I can’t remember our age difference.”
“That’s not important,” he said, bending over so that he brought his face closer to mine, until it was within kissing distance. We looked into each other’s eyes for what felt like a long moment. His eyes were a bright green, piercing in their intensity. His eyelashes were long for a man, lending him just a pinch of femininity which made him look young, boyish, pretty.
I moved closer to him, and kissed him. When our lips touched, I closed my eyes. It was a shy kiss at first. Our lips fluttered and brushed against one another. His lips were remarkably soft. It felt as if they were caressing mine. My mind raced forward in a flight of fantasy, to those same soft lips brushing over my folds.
I broke the kiss “Wait, wait, no,” I said, shaking my head. “We can’t do this.”
“Why not?”
“We’re cousins!”
“Well, not technically. More like step-cousins.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
“But still, we shouldn’t.”
“Okay,” he said, and he began to lift off me. I really didn’t want to stop kissing him, though.
“Well, maybe one more,” I said, pulling him down to me. Our lips touched again, and our kiss grew more passionate, and I started to suck on his lips, drawing them into my mouth, biting them slightly. I pushed my tongue past his teeth, looking for his. Our two muscles met and began a slow dance, but it rapidly quickened in pace. He began to straddle me on the bale of hay, pushing his tongue deeper and deeper into my mouth. We were locked at the lips, and it was bliss. This boyish, sexy man was holding me down and kissing me feverishly, and I couldn’t help but squeal with excitement inside, knowing that this was exactly what I had wanted, exactly what I had needed.
I ran my hands up and over his chest, rounding his shoulders and feeling the power of his triceps, hard and flexed as he held himself up over me, kissing me. I stroked the bulges of his muscles before exploring beneath his arms, feeling the width of his back muscles. I could feel him getting harder and harder within his jeans. He was pressing his crotch into me, grinding it against me. I bucked my hips, dry humping him, thinking idly that I hadn’t done that in over a decade. I ran my fingers down his sides, brought them back up again, and then raked my nails down them. Our kiss broke as he yelped, smiling at me, not expecting it. I raised my eyebrow at him and titled my head.
“Yeah?” I said, finding my
voice laced with lust.
“Yeah,” he said, lowering himself onto me again, kissing me with abandon. I wrapped my legs around his ass as we continued to grind into each other, his rigid erection pressing against my pubic bone, pressing against my clit. I could feel it hardening, turning into a small, firm stub, the bundle of nerves that were the key to my pleasure. I moaned into his mouth, feeling the beginnings of physical bliss ripple through me.
Ravenously, he licked up my throat to my ears, taking my earlobe into his mouth and suckling on it, nibbling and biting. His touch was gentle. He knew how to use his mouth. He gestured above my head, and I raised my arms. He rolled my tank top up and over my head, throwing it onto an adjacent bale of hay. He ran his fingers over my breasts, around the edges of the cups of my bra. The touch of his fingers against my skin was electric. It seemed to send pulses streaking through my body. He began to kiss the swell of my breasts, moving up beside my armpits, moving inward to my necks before meeting my lips again. It was sexy. It made me feel as if he wanted every bit of me, every bit of skin that I owned.
He slowly slid down my body, kissing up and down my stomach, his hands greedily squeezing my breasts, almost painfully. The pain was arousing, each jolt sending signals down to my pussy, already ready, already dripping. He kissed back up my stomach, in between my cleavage, pushing my breasts together on either side of his face, burying himself in me. Forcefully, he tugged the cups of my bra down so that they sat below my breasts, and took a nipple into his mouth, sucking on it like a starving animal, nibbling, biting, licking, as if to extract life itself from them.
He began to work his way down my stomach again, and I lifted myself off the bale of hay and undid the clasp of my bra, freeing my breasts so that they fell down with a bounce. He groaned as I did so, looking up at me as he ran his tongue around my navel, taking both of my breasts into his hands and massaging them, squeezing them, clasping them in his strong paws. He took my nipples and rolled them between his fingers, pinching them and pulling them, teasing me. All the while he was running his tongue around my navel, edging closer to my longing womanhood bit by bit, like the gradual takeover of creepers up a tree.
Slowly, he hoisted my dress up and over my hips, exposing my bright blue panties. They were tight, clinging, and I was sure they revealed my shape to him, the small puff of trimmed pubic hair, the swell of my throbbing clitoris, the bulges of my lips, the wet patch evidence of my desire. He hooked his fingertips into my panties and began to wriggle them down my legs, pausing as my pussy came into clear view, groaning and looking up at me.
“Anna, you’re gorgeous,” he said, his voice throaty and imbued with carnality.
“So are you,” I said, looking down into his green eyes, into his boyish face, seeing the light play off the lines of his jaw, of his cheekbones; seeing the sweat glisten on his rounded shoulders. They looked like cannonballs.
He rolled my panties off my feet, running his hands down my legs as he did so, running them over my feet. He drew his finger over each of my toes, along the inside arch of my feet, up and over my heel, before squeezing my calves as he came forward, placing his face in front of my hungry, soaking folds. He ran his fingers through my small patch of pubic hair, smelling me as he moved downward, letting his tongue dart out to touch upon the skin that linked my leg to my outer lips. He licked there, slowly, tracing around the edges of my pussy, his tongue gentle. It was like a rock skipping on water. His tongue would touch down every now and then, but in between those times all I’d feel was the warm breath he exhaled onto me.
Slowly, he began to kiss my lips, kiss them lightly, moving around and around, not quite methodically, but he seemed to favor the circular motion. His lips brushed against my clit ever so lightly. It made me shudder and shiver as tingles of sensation were sent streaking through my body.
He took my outer lips in between his lips, tugging softly at them, sucking lightly. He was looking up at me, and I looked down at him beneath my mound, stared into his green eyes, at his pretty face, loving the sight of him, loving seeing him there, beneath me, pleasuring me.
He began to lick up and down in between my folds, splaying me open to him. He was licking lightly, just touching on my bulging clitoris occasionally, and focusing most of his attention to my inner lips, to my entrance. It was such a tease. I moaned and sighed and felt myself get wetter and wetter to the touch of his tongue. He wasn’t letting me have what I wanted. I wanted him to tongue my clit. I wanted him to take it into his mouth, to suck it, to nibble on it, to stimulate it.
But it was wondrous all the same. He dragged his tongue up through my folds, poked it around my entrance, stimulated every square millimeter of my cunt, everywhere except my clit. I could feel that pressure building up, knowing that the moment he took my clit into his mouth I’d already be so close.
“Oh, Matt,” I moaned. It was a guttural moan, something hoarse and shaky. He groaned into my pussy, and the vibrations were like individual shots of pleasure, each one rippling through me, whetting my appetite for more. “Matt….”
He positioned himself above my clit, and I smiled at him. It was as if my wants were about to be satisfied. My clitoris was longing for his attention. It had been ignored as he had tongued my hole, splayed my labia, and slathered my vulva in his saliva. His tongue darted out of his mouth, flicking at my clit. My stomach crunched at the sensation and my body jolted.
“Oh!” I cried. “More, Matthew.” He did it once more, twice more, before taking my whole clitoris into his mouth and sucking hard, submerging me in a pool of pleasure. “God,” I hissed at him, “fuck!”
My body was beginning to writhe and wriggle on the bale of hay as he continued to suck my clit, tongue it in his mouth. I could feel the waves of pleasure building and building, the inevitable on the horizon, in sight. But he stopped and rose, leaving me exasperated and bewildered.
“What?!” I cried. “No, don’t stop.”
“Why?” he asked, grinning at me, standing up and unbuckling his belt. I was speechless, watching him slide his jeans and underwear down his legs, watching as his cock, impressively thick, sprang forth, freed from the restricting fabric that had kept it prisoner all this time.
“Oh, Matt,” I whispered, seeing him bared, every bit of strength in his body mirrored in the virility of his manhood. His bush was trimmed close, a light brown, tapering to a faint dusting above his navel. The sight of him made me forget, nearly instantly, that he had edged me closer and closer to climax and then left me hanging, left me longing. His cock in front of me, twitching as he flexed his pubic muscle; his thick, wide tip; it ignited in me the desire to take it into my mouth, to feel his large, impressive penis rub against the back of my throat.
“Fuck,” he whispered as I slid my mouth over his thick bell, down the length of his shaft. I could feel his veins on my lips, thick and strong. I could feel his pulse, the beat of his heart, through them on my lips. “Jesus,” he hissed, as I steadied his hips and took him in and out his entire length, opening my throat, taking him in full so my nose was buried in his bush, so that I could smell his sweaty musk, his manly scent.
I reached behind him, grabbing hold of both sides of his hard, muscular ass. I explored it in my hands, feeling the muscle beneath his tight skin, sending my fingers up and down his cleft. He had so little hair; it was unlike any man I had ever been with. Either he shaved regularly, or he was much younger than I thought.
He began to thrust his hips lightly, fucking my mouth, groaning each time he saw the entire length of his shaft disappear into my face, each time he felt the head of his cock press against the back of my throat.
“Oh, Anna, you’re amazing,” he said, his voice laced with lust. His scrotum was pressing against my chin with each light thrust, and each time I took him in entirety. His ass clenched beneath my hands, and I felt its tightness, felt its small but beautiful footprint.
I began to work the back of his head with my tongue, knowing it would be sensitive. I rolled th
e ridge of flesh beneath my tongue, increasing pressure persistently, moving to the rhythm of his breathing. He began to grunt, breathing faster, and I brought my other hand up to start pumping him slowly.
“Fuck,” he said, and I stopped. I let him out of my mouth with a smack, and lay back down against the bale of hay.
“Don’t stop,” he said.
“Too late, and you did.”
“Ah,” he said, grinning at me.
I spread my legs for him, and he looked at me hungrily, bared to him, given to him. “Come fuck me,” I whispered, biting my lip. He mounted me, his cock rigid, erect, like a weapon, his spear. He placed the tip against my entrance, and ran it up and down in between my lips, splaying them open, grating clear view of my pink to him. In one smooth movement he pushed deep inside me, all the way, his lubricated cock sliding deep inside my lubricated cunt with ease. I gasped and moaned, feeling his thickness stretch me, feeling his girth on all sides inside me. In was wondrous, the sheer overwhelming sensation. I felt as if my brain was going to shut down in a sensory overload. I clasped at his strong arms with my own, my eyes rolled back and I moaned loudly as he withdrew himself his entire length before plunging right back inside me.
His rhythm was slow and deliberate, and he steadied himself on the bale of hay with both hands, his feathered triceps poking out, his huge shoulders broad before me. I was nearly screaming with each of his thrusts, feeling myself stretch, and feeling myself filled up. It felt so great to feel full inside, to feel his wide helmet scrape against the walls of my cunt, to feel the veins on his shaft slither past my folds.
Too Taboo! A Forbidden Fun Taboo Bundle Page 5