Cousin Teased And Cums

In the master bedroom there is a key hole. If you peek through it you can see my bed, and dressing table. I have been given this special room because I am the special girl from England. And the silly, contradictory thing about India is that although they place such importance on modesty, the toilet doors don't have locks, the bathrooms have spy-holes, the bedrooms have key holes and the cousins have aching curiosities. My bedroom is no exception and has one big keyhole.

I know my cousin is watching me. Sonu is a nice guy, handsome and straight as an arrow, but he's also red-blooded. At nineteen years of age he has natural urges, yet we expect him to behave properly around his lovely cousin-sister.

For the last week he had been trying to catch glimpses of my flesh, the devious little pervert - hovering nearby after I'd showered, his neck craning at bath time down corridors and near doors, desperate for an inch of leg or a naked arm - even an inch of back. One time he crept into my bedroom after midnight. I pretended to be asleep as he fetched something from the cupboard but all the time his eyes were on my body. I allowed him the privilege of seeing me, but I was in my long black nightie - lying on my back, bare arms, some legs, neck, face, but of course he must have enjoyed my shape, my boobs beneath the viscose material.

I was just eighteen, and attractive; fully grown and pretty, with large features and black hair in a fashionable bob-cut. I was staying in India with family for the summer. Gosh it gets hot in July in Delhi.

So one night after my shower I sit on my bed with the towel safely wrapped around me, covering everything but my face and shoulders. My dripping wet hair is drying fast - I've not got the air conditioning on. I hear Sonu in the hallway. I know his eye is at the key hole; he's looking at me through the space.

It's exciting knowing I'm being watched. I feel like I'm one of those Bombay dance girls, who strut about on stage wearing mini skirts and tight tops, and have rupees raining down on their bodies. I imagine after the dance some dirty old man gets to fuck them. Anyway, I decide to tease Sonu - I run both my hands through my hair; I arch my back, push out my chest, pretending to have some kind of back ache so my hands are now down at the base of my spine. How he must have longed for that towel to fall. How he must have grown big at the very idea. I started to feel sexually excited.

Then I think, what the hell? What does it matter? Let's tease him more; let me give him a performance; let him see what he can't have, and then when I'm mean to him it'll hurt him even more. So you know what I did? Or rather what I undid? I undid the towel knot and exposed myself to Sonu - I wore that towel around my waist like a skirt, and showed my cousin my tits. He'd probably never seen anyone topless before.

My boobs I see as I glance down - they look amazing - pert, round and full of fat, two perfect mangoes - a C, sometimes D-cup, 32 inches round are my measurements - suckable, fuckable yumminess. Why do boys love them so much? It's weird. And yet, as my nipples harden, I feel wet seeing myself; I am turned on by my own body.

My skin isn't feeling dry; it is soft and smooth and unblemished - but I wanted to send my impudent cousin mad with lust. I took some butter milk from my bedside table and popped off the lid. It aroused me, knowing what I was going to do. My hands shook as I applied a couple of fingers of cool, creamy lotion to my body - shoulders first, the tops of my arms, my cleavage...eventually, finally, and by now I knew Sonu must have been touching himself for sure, I started rubbing the cream into my breasts. It felt cooling. It felt lovely. I watched them glisten and shine. It felt like cum on my chest. Oh wow. I felt so horny - so pretty. I wanted more. I wanted sex. I wasn't a virgin - far from it - but I knew Sonu was. I decided to act; to change tact.

I stood up suddenly and put on a top - the closest one to hand - a white cropped top like a blouse. It felt tight around my chest - I think they'd become engorged. I then crossed the room and headed for the door. I heard a scuffle and movement in the corridor - Sonu must have abandoned his peeping position and raced into the living room. He slept on a camping bed - a charpay - in that room. It was very late. The whole household was fast asleep.

Into his room I walked, slowly, back straight, crossing the floor towards the kitchen. My god it was hot. I saw that Sonu made a pretence that he was asleep, but he obviously wasn't.

'Eh - Sonu - were you outside my bedroom?'

'No, Didi, I was asleep.' Sonu pretends to be sleepy. He yawns. He isn't wearing his top / his shirt.

'Okay,' I say and I enter the kitchen. 'Sonu!'

'What Didi?'

'Help me get something.'

Sonu is standing in the doorway of the kitchen and he is only wearing his pyjama bottoms and he's standing side-ways because he's trying to disguise the fact that his cock is erect. I face him, my tits that just a few minutes ago were exposed for Sonu to enjoy, are imprisoned inside this tight top. I see he is looking at them even now. Gosh, they ache to be free; they press against the cotton; Sonu can see a clear outline of my chest, and the gap between top and towel exposes my flat stomach and sexy tummy.

'Sonu, I want those biscuits on the top shelf. Please get them. I'm hungry.'

Sonu has to step close to me, and reach up above me. I don't move from my spot. His body is just inches away from mine. He is forced to almost touch me. There is no A/C in the kitchen. I am starting to sweat a bit. My hair is still wet. And - what's this - the buttermilk has made some oily marks on my cropped top. Sonu just manages on tip-toes to retrieve the biscuits.

'Thank you, Sonu,' I say, taking a biscuit out and putting it to my lips. I let it linger there a minute, my tongue out a little. 'Would you like some?' I offer him my biscuit.

'Yes, Didi.' He doesn't move. He's trembling. I pretend to be shy as my eyes linger on his chest and ribs, on his purple nipples, on his muscles and broad shoulders.

I put the biscuit up to his mouth. He parts his lips and I pop the biscuit inside. I leave my fingers there, and insert one of my index finger into his mouth. He doesn't know what to do. Neither do I, but I decide to tease him as much as I can - I run my fingers down his face, down his chin and carelessly stroke across his chest.

'Cousin, I am feeling so hot tonight,' I find myself saying.

'Oh yes,' he replies.

My hand is on his nara - the string that keeps his pyjamas up. I slowly undo his string. I am breathing fast. Sonu says something that surprises me: 'I love you, Meena,' he says.

'Don't call me that,' I complain. 'I'm your Didi.' And with that I slip my hand inside his pyjamas and take hold of his cock, which is rock hard. 'Sonu, you're very hard,' I say. I know he's not going to last very long - he is moaning already. 'Have you been spying on me, Sonu?'

He cannot speak. He's over-whelmed. I ask him again; 'Have you been watching me rub oil on myself? Have you watched me masturbate?' That last question is a bluff - I've not yet played with my cunt in Delhi.

I am so very naughty because I know when a boy is going to ejaculate. Sonu is close. I take my hand away and move both my hands up to my top. 'Want me to take this off, baby?' I ask him, holding the top with my fingers. I edge it slightly. He must think my breasts ar just seconds away.

He cannot speak. He nods. 'You've been peeking at me, Sonu?' I say and my hands are already back on his cock, one gently stroking his balls, the other moving fast up and down on his erection.

'Please Didi no,' he says, but I close my eyes and make a noise that sends him into ecstacy -

'Oh baby, Sonu, you have been peeking, Oh Mmmmm,' and I moan and he says...

'Uuuuuh, Ohhhhh,' and he cums all over my hands, very hot and very sticky. He is disappointed. It's over. He's annoyed and he feels cheap, I know it. He hates me suddenly, and I hate him.

'Good night you dirty pervert,' I say, and return to my bed, smiling.