I woke up on Christmas Eve to the sound of someone knocking on the door. It was after nine o'clock. I was asleep in a guest room in my uncle's basement. Next to me was a pair of my panties that were stiff with my dried cum. Cara had used them the night before to give me a handjob while everyone else in the house was asleep. It was the third time in less than a week. The first time was right after she caught me jacking off in her basement.
At first, I felt guilty. Cara was only eighteen years old. She was still in high school. And she was my aunt's step-daughter. We weren't blood-relatives, but it was still an unusual situation. I'd known her since she was in elementary school. Our family thought it was cute that she had a crush on me growing up, but an actual relationship would have been scandalous.
But the guilt faded quickly. It was replaced with desire. The taboo element to our secret encounters made them more thrilling. I was becoming obsessed.
I had tossed and turned the night before. After Cara left my room I couldn't stop thinking about her. The curves of her body. Her thick, black hair. Her dirty mind. Her eagerness to stimulate and please me.
Even though I had just gotten off, I wanted more. Three encounters had concluded with only a handjob all three times. She had put my cock in her mouth twice, but not given me a complete blow job. I'd caught a glimpse of her bush and played with her tits a bit. It had been months since I'd have actual sex and I wanted more from Cara. I knew I was being greedy, but like most young men, I wanted to push things to another level.
I'd gotten myself off again before falling asleep. My eyes were closed tight as I imagined her riding my dick wearing nothing but stockings.
My late-night tossing and turning led to me sleeping in. I knew everyone else must have had breakfast already. I assumed either my mother or sister had come down to see if I was dead. I pulled on some pants and stumbled to the door. I was surprised to see Cara standing there.
"I was sent down to make sure you're still breathing," she said loudly. She flashed that wicked smile. "Actually I volunteered," she said quietly. "I don't think anyone followed me down."
Cara stepped into the room and pushed the door within a few inches of closing.
Her incredible curves were hidden beneath a baggy red plaid flannel shirt and loose olive corduroy pants. Her thick black hair was down and she had on her black-framed glasses. Anyone who saw her like that in a coffee shop would have just mistaken her for schlubby grunge rock nerd. They'd have no clue how sexy she was. Her wardrobe and the fact that she went to an all-girls Catholic school were probably the only reasons she was single.
"I brought something you might like," she said playfully.
She pulled a pair of panties from her pocket. Simple white nylon briefs with little pink roses on them.
"Would it excite you to think of me in these?" she asked
"It would excite me if you'd give me some pussy," I snapped quickly.
I surprised myself with the quick temper flare. Maybe it was the lack of sleep. Or just not having a cup of coffee yet. Somehow during the night, I'd started feeling like she was getting everything she wanted and I was being used somehow. Like I was her plaything. It was an absurd way to feel.
"Wow," she said with surprise. "What's that about?"
I took a deep breath.
"Sorry," I said. "I'm just grumpy in the mornings and didn't sleep well."
"Sounds like more than that," she responded.
"I had a sex dream. About us." I said.
It wasn't really a dream. It was a fantasy when I was wide awake. But I was trying to recover from my rash reaction. I knew I wanted more than a handjob from her. But at the same time, I knew I was acting entitled. I had no right to be upset with her. I needed to be more subtle and content with just handjobs if that was the only option.
Cara was very curious. She raised an eyebrow.
"What kind of sex dream?" she asked.
I gave her a high-level overview of my fantasy from the night before. That I was on my back and she was riding my dick.
"Sounds hot," she said. "Not much detail, though."
"You want the details?" I asked.
"Sure. Of course."
"You were on top of me," I said. "With your shirt open. Like that first night in your parents' basement. When you were grinding on my cock. Your gorgeous tits bouncing."
"You like my boobs?" she interrupted. "They're not very perky."
"Fuck yes, I like them," I gushed. "They're full and sexy. I can't stop thinking about them."
"What else happened in the dream?"
"That's it. You were on top. You were riding my cock. And you were wearing white stockings. I had to jack off after it."
"Stockings?" she said. "That's new. So it's not just silky things that excite you?"
I blushed a little and nodded.
"Have you fucked a girl wearing stockings?"
"Yes," I admitted.
"Who? Some sorority slut at college?"
"No. My high school girlfriend. It was years ago."
"What else turns you on?" she asked.
I was worried that I was going to freak her out. Liking the feel of silky lingerie is one thing, but did I really want to reveal how much I thought about lingerie and outfits? I didn't want her to question my sexuality. Men weren't supposed to fetishize clothing. Still, I felt the need to be honest. I told her I was into slips and other lingerie.
"What about outfits? Dresses?" she asked.
"I like when women wear dresses," I said.
"You think about the way women dress a lot. Do you like the women or the clothes? Don't most men just want women out of their clothes?" she asked. "Are you bisexual?"
"No," I answered. "I just get turned on by certain things. I'm very visual and I like the anticipation of a woman undressing I don't know why."
She seemed to think about my answers for a second.
"So do you think I'm too boring in my baggy shirts and jeans?" she asked. "You're just having some fun with me because I'm here and there isn't some slut in a short skirt around?"
"I don't think there is anything boring about you," I said.
"Really?" she questioned. "That excites me."
"I'm kind of hard," I answered.
"Show me," she said.
I slid down the track pants I'd pulled on earlier. There was a growing bulge in my shorts.
"Let me feel how wet you are, Cara."
She glanced at the door that was only slightly ajar.
"I've been down here a while," she said. "What if someone comes down?"
"I'm sure they think you're just hanging out while I get dressed or whatever."
She bit her lip and thought about it for a second. She sat down on the edge of the bed and unbuttoned her pants. She pulled the zipper down and held them open. Her panties were simple white nylon briefs with a white ribbon bow on the waistband.
"Go ahead," she said. "You can touch."
I sat to her right on the bed. I slid a hand down her pants and cupped her pussy. I could feel the heat coming off it. Her panties were definitely damp.
She touched me at the same time. She cupped my dick and rubbed it through my shorts. I went from semi-erect to fully hard.
I rubbed her pussy faster. She let out a soft moan.
"We have to stop," she said. "Someone is going to come downstairs."
"They've forgotten you're down here," I said. "They're probably all talking or wrapping gifts or taking a nap."
"My brother," she said. "He's using the room next door. Or he will come to watch TV."
"Nobody is coming," I told her.
I was actually as nervous as she was. But I was also twenty-one years old and insanely horny all the time. It was worth the risk. At that point in my life even fingering a woman was still a thrill.
I slid her panties to the side to get inside her pussy. My index finger slid in easily. She gasped.
"We have to stop," she said again. "We can't."
"Can't right now? Or can't ever?" I asked.
I spoke slowly. Sliding my finger in and out of her pussy at the same time. Making her moan.
"Now," she panted. "Or maybe ever. I don't know. It seems wrong. It's too much."
"And jacking me off isn't wrong? Putting my cock in your mouth isn't wrong?"
"No," she said. "I mean yes. It is."
She whimpered as I worked another finger into that tight pussy.
"It is. But it's not as bad," she said. "It's just a little bad. This is really bad. My dad is married to your aunt. We're kind of cousins."
I kept working my hands in her pussy. I'd been fingering girls for a long time. I was confident in my ability.
"But we aren't cousins," I said. "Not really. Just by marriage."
"They'd kill us," she panted. She was squirming on the bed. "They'd disown us."
