Author's note:
This is a departure for me in two ways.
First, I have never before attempted a story entirely from the woman's point of view, though many of my other tales have tried to include that.
Second, I've never before tried to write incest/taboo. I haven't been there in reality, though this story realises a fantasy for me. Sort of, a past fantasy.
My thanks to my editor/partner for -- deservedly -- ripping my first drafts of this to shreds. (She is a cruel bitch sometimes, but I need that part of her, as I need everything of her.)
And thanks to my kind readers, male and female. You've sustained me with your posts and mails.
*****
He paused and she caught up with him, panting up the steep slope. She noted that his breathing was steady, though he'd fifteen years on her. Was grateful he'd chosen what he called an 'easy' hill for them. It was an unusually hot day for September in Scotland, and she saw with relief that he was pouring sweat too. Good! Cousin Gavin was human.
- Well Jean, think I need a wee rest. This dyke's a nice windbreak. You OK with that?
He laughed warmly and she was glad of his care for her. She knew he didn't really need a rest, but christ, she did.
- Gav, I'm desperate to sit down. I'm not as used to this as you are.
She flounced down behind the south-facing drystone wall. Her feet were hot in the new boots, and her right heel felt tender. She tugged the boots off. He busied himself with the rucsac, foraging for sandwiches and flask, unearthing teabags.
She looked him over. She was glad she'd called him, suggested the walk. She'd always adored him, her elder cousin, and relished the few hours they occasionally managed to snatch together, free of spouses and kids. They were close and comfortable, always had been. She'd trusted him from when she was wee and he'd babysat her, put her to bed, read her stories.
He hunkered down before her, noticed her fingers at the heel:
- Problem?
- Blister coming I think, just a wee bit uncomfortable.
- Get the sock off, let's have a look? Always best to catch a blister before it forms.
His fingers touched the bare heel delicately and she winced. He lifted her leg and twisted to look:
- Aye, a bit chafed. Glad you caught it in time. Let's see the other now, just in case?
He peered as the other sock came off. She liked his fingers fondling her feet, caring for her. His eyes rose to her face, feet still in his hands, and she shivered. He turned back to the rucsac, withdrew a knife and roll of Elastoplast, cotton wool buds:
- Just going to wipe the sweat off Jean, before I put the plasters on.
She watched intrigued as he poured boiling water from the flask into a mug, wiped the sore bits gently. She realised that the last time anyone had touched her feet was when her parents had bathed her when she was wee. Entranced by his care for her, she felt stirring in her loins. He patted the feet dry, cut and applied the plasters. Smiled at her:
- Well, I hope that does the trick! But if you start to feel anything later, tell me.
She felt something now, but not in her heels. As well he didn't know that. He made two mugs of tea, moved to hand her one, and a sandwich. Their fingers grazed slightly, lingering, and he gazed in her eyes. She felt a wee shiver at his look. Not disturbed exactly, but she hadn't seen him like that before, and it pushed slightly outside her comfort zone. He'd looked at her as a desirable woman.
Her groin tingled. Christ, what was this? It's Gavin, daftie! She shook her head slightly, and made herself return his look, unswerving. His gaze held hers:
- Jean, I'm so glad you suggested this. And didn't you pick the right day for it! God, isn't it gorgeous! And it's so lovely to be with you again, just the two of us.
A tremor ran through her. He had sometimes been the subject of her fantasies, though she had difficulty admitting it to herself. Fantasies never happen... but was there something in his voice, when he said that - just the two of us?
He settled beside her, hips and shoulders touching, swept his arm across the landscape before them, naming what they could see. Rough moorland immediately below, the odd blackface ewe grazing, then a wide wooded strath, and more hills beyond. She took a deliberate breath and held his hand, pointed it:
- What's that Gavin, that hill?
- That's Tinto. It's a bit bigger than this one. It has a fascinating Neolithic earthwork on the summit. Maybe for our next outing, depending on how you are by the time we've finished today?
She released his hand, aware that hers was trembling slightly. He turned:
- I do hope, now you've got your boots, that this'll be the first of many days together Jean? If you enjoy it, maybe we can graduate to mountains?
Something in his voice again, and in his look. Or was she imagining it?
- Mmm, not so sure about mountains. But days hillwalking together, yes. Dave's suggested he takes the boys on his own some Sundays, to give me time to myself. After all, he's played golf every Saturday for years. And -- she glanced down at herself -- I could lose a few pounds.
She thought for a moment. Her eyes fell from his. Ach, what the hell:
- A girl can play too.
He looked at her carefully:
- Aye, I know it's been hard for you when he was struggling, working all hours. And the boys were wee, required your constant attention. I know you've had no time to be you, the you beyond the housewife and mother. I'm so glad it's easier for you both now. And you're right, a girl needs to play. But -- he grinned engagingly -- not to lose weight, not this girl anyway. You're very sexy just as you are.
Her blush spread. He'd never said anything remotely like that before. Her body liked the thought that he found her sexy, despite a twinge of cerebral unease about where this might be going. The hint of danger was exciting. And she'd rather be hillwalking with Gavin than sitting with a G&T in her girlfriend's garden.
His smile deepened, crinkles at the corners of his grey eyes as they considered her:
- I'm so glad you've chosen to be with me today Jean.
He leaned in to kiss her, just a soft brush across her mouth. Oh christ, they'd kissed like that before, but this time she felt it between her legs. Couldn't find an appropriate word to say, just looked in his eyes. She felt herself exposed to him, and though there was discomfort, there was something else too.
He held her gaze, knew what had happened. She'd been in his fantasies for years. Now he knew it was mutual. Oh god ...
She felt herself blushing. Knew he was watching her closely, could feel his eyes travel as the flush spread down, over the tops of her breasts, exposed by several buttons undone for the heat, her bra just showing.
He leaned in to kiss her mouth again and this time her lips parted, felt his close on them, his tongue flicker briefly between them, tantalising. When he sat back she was panting, and his face was flushed. Then he dropped his eyes, spoke hesitantly:
- Ach my sweetest cousin -- he made a show of glancing at his watch -- we could sit here all day. But we've a bit to go yet, when we've finished our elevenses.
When they were done and the rucsac was secured, he stroked her leg as she tied her boots on. Stood and offered her his hand, pulled her up. She sank against him, quivering:
- Oh Gavin, what's happening with us? We... we shouldn't, um...
- I'm glad you feel it too. I thought it was just me. Ach lassie ...
He drew her into his arms. Hers wavered, then went round his neck. Her mouth sought his as their bodies closed. She tingled at the contact, felt herself open to him. Exquisite, but...
Eventually he pulled back, held her at arms length, searched her face. She saw him there for her, eyes sparkling with love, a lust-haze too. There was no doubt that he wanted her. She dropped her eyes, clouds stirring uneasily in her head. Something else was stirring too, she tried to ignore it but couldn't. Remembered his hands on her feet...
Finally she looked up again, her face deliberately harder:
- I thought we were going to climb this hill?
There was confusion in his eyes. Good. Her head was in turmoil, her viscera churning.
*****
She insisted on taking the rucsac, and made sure she was in the lead now. She found her second wind, and though her legs were shorter than his, kept a good pace across dry heather and bracken, following a meandering sheeptrack toward the distant summit. The going was fairly easy: they were past the steep bit, and her mind floated as her legs moved automatically across the rolling plateau. Floated places it had no business going. But she felt the joy of the day too, was beginning to understand why her cousin was such an enthusiastic hillwalker.
Her cousin. She heard the steady beat of his boots behind her, was content he wasn't trying to talk. She was aware that her cunt was wet. She realised that she'd wanted him for years, since she was a teenager. But her head was troubled.
She'd flirted with other men of course, been illicitly kissed by a couple of Dave's friends at parties, with a few drinks in her. She'd felt the strange thrill of the thought of an extra-marital encounter then, wondered, but hadn't dared...
This was different. Now she wanted Gavin, at least that's what her body was telling her. Her head? That was a different matter. This was improper. She knew that. No equivocation, her mind told her she shouldn't be feeling like this. But she did.
She twisted and poked at it in her head as she strode. Her body wanted a different answer, but her mind was... well, it knew that what she felt wasn't right. It was taboo, even had they both been single. She resolved to tell him so, and in her resolve, her legs moved faster. When she turned at the summit of Byrehope Mount, he was a hundred feet behind her, and she smiled. Good to beat him at his own game! She was pleased to see he was dripping with sweat as he approached.
- Jesus, he gasped, pulling off his damp shirt. You fair set a pace Jean! Made an old man work for his lunch.
He made to put his arms round her but she backed off:
- No, we mustn't. It's... - she wavered as his eyes held hers, her cunt throbbing -- it's...
Her words were lost as he grabbed her:
- It's wrong Jean? Yes, some think so. I don't believe in that sort of moral absolute any more. Contraception makes the taboo on sex between relations irrelevant. You're on the pill. I know you want it. We both do. Your cunt's wet now, isn't it?
She shivered at his use of the word, helpless in his arms as his fingers traced the seam on the shorts between her legs. Felt herself moisten further. Quivered and kissed him, wetly and in need. Gasped as her mouth withdrew from his, brain taking over:
- Don't Gavin, please. You know we shouldn't...
She wrenched herself away from him. Stood panting, knees weak, nipples aching as they pressed into her bra, insistent. Eased herself to the ground: she could no longer trust her legs to hold her up. Her head was in confusion but her body wasn't. Her cunt was calling out to her, weeping in need. She glanced down, knew the damp patch would soon appear between her legs where he'd stroked her.
