Shoulda Seen That Coming

Editor's note: this fictional work contains scenes of completely fictional incest or fictional incest content.

*****

This is the story of how I lost my virginity, and at the same time lost my boyfriend. No, that's not quite right--let me start again.

I want to tell you the story of how my cousin helped me lose my virginity, and at the same time, stole my boyfriend. By stole, I don't mean to imply that I lost him entirely, because I haven't. But she ended up marrying him and I... well, as my cousin frequently reminds us, "At least we're keeping it within the family." But that's another story.

You have to understand that this all happened a long time ago--before cell phones and personal computers, before the Internet and cable television. It was the summer I turned nineteen, and my parents had decided to take a sight-seeing trip into the United States--without me. I was an only child and they were quite protective of me (well, my mother definitely was), so they arranged for my cousin Salome to come and stay with me while they were away.

Of course Salome is not her real name--as Jack Webb used to say, "The names have been changed to protect the innocent." Not that Salome was ever innocent.

Salome is my mother sister's (Aunt Ruby) daughter, my first cousin. She's almost two years older than I am, and she's always been like the older sister I'd never had. Not that we grew up together--Salome and her family lived a two and a half hour drive away--but the families visited one another often enough that we saw each other sat least four times a year.

Wilfred and I (names have been changed, remember) had been boyfriend-girlfriend for about two years. Secretly. As I mentioned, my parents were very protective, and although I'd been allowed to date when I turned seventeen, it was only if I was chaperoned. My parents knew about Wilfred--at least, they knew him as my sometime math and science tutor. He came to my house two or three times a week to help me study. Wilfred wasn't much to look at--nerdy, under-developed, glasses, quiet and shy. My parents weren't at all worried about him.

And quite frankly, I wasn't any great beauty myself. I mean, okay, my figure wasn't too bad--my hips and bottom maybe a bit larger than ideal for my top part, but my boobs were okay, even if you could barely notice them under the klutzy clothes my mother made me wear to school. And I had unattractive glasses and crooked teeth.

The summer he and I turned eighteen, Wilfred started coming over to my house while my parents were at work. We'd sit and play cards, and cuddle and kiss. We were both younger than our years and naive, and it felt pretty wicked when I let him unfasten my bra and touch my breasts (inside my blouse, of course. Heaven forbid he should see anything!)

Fast forward to my nineteenth summer and things have progressed a bit between us. Wilfred and I have managed to get to second base (who decided on baseball as a metaphor for physical intimacy, anyway?), and we arranged for him to sneak into the house after my parents left for work, come up to my bedroom, and get into bed with me. Him fully clothed, and me in my baby-doll pajamas.

One Friday evening, late in July, my Aunt Ruby, her husband, Uncle Jack, and Salome arrive at our front door, and I find out that the adults are taking off early next morning for a two week sightseeing trip to the United States, and that Salome will be staying with me while they're gone. Surprise!

Monday morning Salome and I are wakened by the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs. I know immediately that it's Wilfred. I'd completely forgotten our arrangement. And Salome is sharing my bed.

It gets worse. We were in the middle of a heat wave, our house didn't have air-conditioning, and even at night two bodies in the same bed became uncomfortably warm. So the two of us were sleeping in as little as possible. Just panties.

So Wilfred steps through the open doorway into my bedroom and freezes. Salome is on the side of the bed nearest the door and she's got the bed sheet down around her waist, and her bare boobs are on full display.

At this point I should mention that my mother and Aunt Ruby are twins and Salome and I share a lot of physical attributes. So much so that, at a distance, we could be mistaken for one another.. Okay, so she was prettier, didn't wear glasses, and had perfect teeth, but body-wise we were very similar. Except her boobs were just that little bit fuller and perkier. I mean, mine were pretty good, but hers... And she wasn't shy about showing them off. Oh, and she has no tan lines. Anywhere. Come summer time, she and Aunt Ruby sunbathe in the nude in their back yard. My mother has been scandalized by her sister's immodesty since they were little girls.

Wilfred's eyes are glued to Salome and her gorgeous breasts. This is definitely not the way I want him to meet my cousin. If I had my way they wouldn't be meeting at all. But it's too late now. Salome turns onto her side facing him and looks him up and down.

I'm still not comfortable with him seeing me naked to the waist and I snatch the sheet up to my neck and yell at him. "Wilfred!"

Salome makes no move to cover herself up. She turns her head to me, and raises an eyebrow. "Boyfriend?" she asks.

At that moment I can only think of two options:

I say no. But then how do I explain what he's doing in my bedroom?

I say yes. But then how do I explain what he's doing in my bedroom?

I end up blurting out both. "No!... Yes!" I sigh in resignation. "Salome, Wilfred. Wilfred, Salome. My cousin."

Salome looks him up and down again and smiles, like a cat playing with a mouse. "Not bad, Delilah (not my real name). A boyfriend. I didn't think you had it in you. Are you sleeping together?"

"NO!" (Yeah, I shouted that. I didn't want to leave any doubt.)

"So what's he doing in your bedroom?" (I told you she was going to ask that.)

Now I have to try and explain why Wilfred has an open invitation to come into my bedroom early in the morning and climb into bed with me.

Aargh! (Yeah, I pulled the sheet over my head and screamed.)

"Umm. Should I go?" Wilfred asks. Bless his sweet, gentle heart.

I flip the sheet off my face. "No. Stay."

Salome is now sitting up, the sheet pooled around her hips and thighs, and her breasts hardly sag at all. I hate her. She looks at me and waits.

I sigh again. "Wilfred and I have been seeing each other secretly for about two years now. My parents know him, but they don't know he's my boyfriend." I glare at her as fiercely as I can. "You. Can't. Tell. Them."

Salome raises her hands in mock surrender. "My lips are sealed." Another wicked smile. "But it's going to cost you." (Yeah, I saw that one coming.)

"We've been kissing and stuff, but that's all," I try to explain. "I just wanted to know... what it might be like... to have him in bed with me. You know. Cuddling, Spooning. Sleeping."

Salome giggles. "Sleeping. Together. But not sleeping together."

"I told him he has to keep his clothes on."

"Well, don't let me stop you."

Salome examines Wilfred again, still standing in the open doorway, then turns to me with an evil grin. "You know, it's pretty warm already, and if he gets into bed between us, with all his clothes on, he;'s going to get pretty sweaty."

"What are you getting at?" I'd known Salome all my life. She was up to something.

Salome pats the space in the bed between us. "Wilfred, why don't you shuck down to your underpants and come into bed with us?"

Wilfred's jaw drops. His face turns pink.

"SALOME!" (Yeah, I shouted again.)

"What?" she says innocently. (I did mention she was never innocent, right?)

"He can't!" I cry. "Not... naked!"

"He's not going to be naked," Salome says calmly. "Although if you want him to be, I don't mind. I'd kind of like to see what's making that bulge in his pants."

My eyes slide to Wilfred's groin, and there's a definite bulge in the front of his pants.

I'd seen that bulge before, of course, and felt it against me--but I usually tried to ignore it because I knew it embarrassed Wilfred. The first time it happened he was almost in tears apologizing. Wilfred is a very private and self-disciplined person, and I knew he felt betrayed by this obvious sign of his sexual arousal. I really hadn't been upset by it, in fact I'd felt a glow of pride that my body could do that to his. We had a long talk about it that afternoon, and the intimacy that developed between us has never faded.

I have to pause here and give you a bit of our back story. Wilfred first tried to touch my breasts a few weeks after we'd started kissing. Salome had warned me about boys and their obsession with boobs, so I wasn't surprised. But I pushed his hand away. "Don't," I said.

A month later our high school class went on a field trip to a grand old mansion that had been partially converted into a museum. The main part of the tour had finished, and we had an hour before the bus left, and we were free to browse the collections or peruse the gift shop. Wilfred found a nondescript door that opened onto an unused study, in which there was a couch. We closed the door behind us and settled down for a kissing session.

The back of my blouse came loose from my skirt, and Wilfred put his hand underneath to stroke the bare skin on my lower back. I liked him doing that and I snuggled into him. Our kisses got pretty hot.. His hand went a bit too high and touched my bra strap. I giggled and kissed him harder. (We were in a public place. What could happen?) Wilfred continued to stroke my back, occasionally slipping his fingers under the strap to rub the skin there.

I don't know what prompted me, but for some reason, instead of telling him to leave my bra alone, I said, "If that comes undone, you have to do it back up." Well, of course, I might as well have said, "Go ahead and undo it." because that's exactly what he did. And we kissed for another half hour, with him gently stroking my unimpeded back. He tried fastening my bra strap back up without looking, but when that didn't work, I had to let him push up the back of my blouse so he could see what he was doing.

From then on, whenever we were alone and kissing, my bra came undone. When I knew we were going to be together I wore blouses that buttoned up the back, so he could have easier access to put things back the way they were supposed to be. Pretty quickly our kissing sessions saw me lying on top of him, my back completely bare, with his hands roaming free over my exposed skin. And if it happened (and it often did) that the hooks and straps would get badly tangled, I would sit up with my back to him, take off my blouse and bra, and hand the bra to him to untangle, It felt so daring to be sitting in front of him nude to the waist. And he never tried to peek around to my front.

So that's where we were when "the accident" happened--two weeks before Salome arrived. Summer vacation had just started and it was our first time together in more than a month. It was a hot day, and I chose a flimsy old blouse to wear with my shorts. It was years old, and was a little tight across the chest. The cotton was thin, and the button holes stretched and worn.

We lay on the couch in the living room, me on top facing him, and he pushed his hands underneath my blouse to undo my bra. Of course the buttons over my boobs popped open, but I didn't bother trying to do them back up. He stroked my back for a while and we kissed a bit, and then I turned over onto my back so he could fondle my boobs. (Yeah my blouse was open. So what?) I dozed off. Wilfred's caresses managed to nudge my bra further north and pop open the rest of my buttons, 'accidentally' uncovering my breasts.

I woke, realized that my chest was completely exposed, and with a scream rolled onto my stomach on the couch, spilling Wilfred off onto the floor. I was so embarrassed but the whole situation was ridiculous; I knew it was too late to act modest, so all I could do was laugh helplessly. Wilfred apologetically offered to put me back together. Keeping my chest firmly against the couch I helped him take off my blouse. And then he said, "Lift up and I'll put your bra back in place."

I had to have known what would happen--I mean, I wasn't

that

naive, was I?--but I pushed up on my arms. and of course my boobs swung free right in front of his face. I squealed again and threw myself flat, but the cats were out of the bag and I couldn't put them back in again. And now we were both laughing.

To tell you the truth, Wilfred finally seeing my boobs was a relief. The big question now was: What did he think of them? Too big? (I wish) Too small? Did he love them or hate them? So I allowed him to coax me into turning onto my back. I kept my hands over my boobs while I turned, and watched his face carefully as I moved my hands away. His eyes grew wide, and he looked me in the eyes and he whispered (yes, whispered, in awe). "They're beautiful!." And I loved him even more.

At that moment, if he'd asked to see me completely naked, I might have let him. But instead he asked, "Can I kiss them?"

Whoa!

Well, we had a bit of a discussion about that. Eventually I watched carefully as he pressed his lips first to the right one, then to the left. That was when I first really noticed him get erect.

Seeing the interest on Salome's face makes me realize that Wilfred's endowment is... significant. (Like I said, I was pretty naive.)

"Don't tell me you've never seen each other in your underwear," Salome mock whispers.

Salome always knew how to push my buttons. Sure, Wilfred had been in my bed a few times and had seen me in my baby doll pajamas (and a couple of days before Salome, I'd even let him take off my top). But I'd never seen him less than fully clothed. There was no way I was going to admit that to her.

"Of course I have," I lie. "But... oh, never mind."

Salome looks at Wilfred (cat/canary). "You heard her. Get out of those clothes and come into bed." She pats the space between us again.

Wilfred gets that deer in the headlights look. "You want me to...?" He waves his hands vaguely in the general direction of his pants.

"You're not going to turn down two sexy girls in their panties asking you into bed, are you?"

The bulge in Wilfred's pants jumps, and his face grows even pinker. "Umm, no."

He walks over to my dressing table, turns his back to us, and slowly undresses, folding each piece of clothing neatly onto my dressing table chair.

Underneath his shirt and slacks he's wearing a simple pair of white briefs. He has a pretty well-developed derriere, and his legs are strong and straight. But I could see his ribs and shoulder blades and the bones of his spine. He turns around, hands clasped modestly over the front of his briefs, hurries to my side of the bed, clambers over my feet into the space between Salome and me, and slithers himself under the sheet.

Wilfred and I are afraid to look at one another, and we both lie quiet, side by side, staring up at the ceiling. Salome waits for a few minutes, then... "Aren't you going to kiss each other?"

"What!?" (Yeah, I know. I should have expected that.)

Wilfred turns his head and stares at her.

"He's your boyfriend, isn't he? You're in bed together. In your underpants. Kiss him."

We'd always done all our kissing in private.

Kiss him? In front of Salome?

Wilfred turns his head to look at me.

I still have the sheet pulled up to my neck. Wilfred's chest is partly exposed. And Salome, of course, is shamelessly naked to the waist.

I sigh (I think that's my third) and turn my head to peck Wilfred on the lips.

"That's not a kiss! Come on, Delilah! You can do better than that!"

Sigh number four: I keep the sheet between our chests while I roll half on top of him and press my lips to his in a big, warm kiss. Wilfred unfreezes and kisses back.

Wilfred is a good kisser. We'd practiced a lot over the past year or so, and he'd learned pretty quickly what I liked and didn't like. His lips are warm and firm, but also soft. No wet slobber. Sometimes, if we were both pretty excited, he would touch the tip of his tongue to my lips, and sometimes I would touch it with mine.

We touch tongues. And then I lie back in my place, still clutching the sheet.

"That's better," Salome coos. "But now I feel left out. Is it okay if I kiss him, too?"

I did not see that one coming, and I was flummoxed. On the surface of it, it was an innocent enough request. But as I think I've already mentioned, Salome was anything but innocent. I stall. "You want to kiss my boyfriend?"

"Uh-huh." Butter wouldn't melt in her mouth.

I wanted to say no. I really did. "Just one."

Salome doesn't wait. She flips over, tugs the sheet clear of Wilfred's chest, and presses herself against him. The kiss seems to last for hours, and to Wilfred's credit, it was only towards the end that he touched his hands to her bare back.

Salome finally breaks the kiss and settles herself beside him on one elbow, her perfect boobs practically in his face. "You're a good kisser," Her voice is like buckwheat honey, spicy and sweet. "Did Delilah teach you? Or are you a natural."

Wilfred's face is back to pink. "A little of both, I guess."

I can't stand it; my horny cousin is flirting with my boyfriend. I push down the sheet and fling myself on top of him, pressing my mouth and my breasts onto him shamelessly. I poke my tongue into his mouth. His arms clasp around me and pull me tighter, and we kiss with a passion I've never felt before. The hard warmth of his erection is only two thin layers of cotton away from my belly and I don't care.

"I have to pee," Salome suddenly announces. We both look at her. She hops out of bed and crosses the hallway to the bathroom, sashaying her hips like a hooker. Wilfred can't resist staring. I grab his head, turn it towards me, and kiss him some more. A couple minutes later the toilet flushes, loud enough that I know she hasn't closed the bathroom door, and she comes back in.

"Break it up, you two," she says. "I'm hungry. What's for breakfast?"

I insist on all of us getting dressed. Salome tries to cajole me out of it but there's no way I want Wilfred staring at her boobs while we're eating. I don't like the way that bulge in the front of his briefs jumps at the sight of them.

"Fine, then," she pouts. "But I'm only putting on a t-shirt."

I know she's gonna wear the thinnest, tightest top she can find, but I don't argue. Salome struts around my bedroom "looking for something to wear". While Wilfred is distracted I slide out of bed, grab the clothes I was wearing the night before and run into the bathroom to dress.

Yeah, I was still shy around Wilfred. Okay, he'd seen my boobs a few times, including that morning, but I'd always been fully dressed below, except when I was in my pajamas. (But that didn't count, right?) I wasn't ready for him to see me in my panties. Never mind being naked.

Salome puts on a top that barely reaches her waist, and so tight her nipples are poking through. After breakfast we play Monopoly until Salome gets bored and suggests we play cards. "Strip poker," she grins. I veto that idea. No way do I want Wilfred seeing her naked body next to mine.

"What do you guys normally do when you're alone?" Salome asks.

"We usually just lie on the couch and neck," Wilfred answers. I feel like strangling him.

Salome's smile is sweet enough to cause cavities. "Do you mind if I watch?"

"Umm... sure. Okay," Wilfred stammers. And now I'm ready to kill her as well. Slowly.

But Salome isn't done--not by a long shot. "You know, it's really warm in here." She was right; it was very warm, "It'll be even warmer with Delilah on top of you. Don't you think you'd be more comfortable if you were both in your underpants? Like you were this morning?"