Age is but a number. I have heard it said, but for me, it is life. My cousin Jean fits me like a glove, literally, despite being seven years older than I.
Our family were always regarded as the poor relations, the cousins from the countryside. They, by contrast, lived the good life. Her father was Comptroller of State Houses, and personal secretary to the President. Her mother was my mother's eldest sister so we paid visits to their home fairly regularly, but only when my father was at home, from his job driving trains for the Railways.
Her siblings who were closer to me in age always had such good toys, better than I had ever seen, or could hope to have. I remember toy guns, and big toy cars. In those days she was a much bigger girl than me, such that there was almost nothing in common between myself and her. Or so one would think. If she liked anybody she could have picked any one of my sisters, whom I had in plenty. But for some reason I cannot tell you even now, she liked me and would often call me to her room. She always had some interesting books, in particular the Readers' Digest magazines. At first I must only have looked at the adverts' colourful pictures but at some point I must have started to read the stories. This love of reading impressed Jean so much that these visits to her room became quite regular when we were visiting my aunt.
I must tell you that my cousin was the most beautiful creature I had ever set eyes upon, even at eight or nine years of age; she would have been nearer sixteen. I do not remember much before that, but we must have formed a bond quite early on. She took after my aunt who had a roundish figure, big boobs, very white teeth when she smiled at you, and smooth, flawless café-au-lait complexion. I must have been a naughty boy even then to have noticed these things. My cousin was like her mother, not very tall for her age. Therefore she did not beat me by very much despite the difference in age.
When I joined high school at the age of fourteen, she was in her final year at university. So I was delighted to learn that the campus was within a walking distance from my school so I could visit her there. During the four years of my high school I saw her fairly regularly. After her studies she was employed by the same university and given housing not very different from what she had while a student. I visited these quarters too. It was here that our love, platonic so far, bloomed out into the carnal variety. It happened on this wise.
One evening during my fifth year of schooling when I had reached the ripe old age of nineteen, I was to be lead speaker during the school debate. I forget what the topic was but it gave us all quite a headache. I thought to myself, 'Who could be so lucky as I am, that I have a scholarly cousin, who is not very far, and is my dearest friend?' The resounding answer was, 'Nobody!' Now it so happened that only the headmaster had a house within the school grounds and his wife loved flowers; she had planted lots of them. So one day, when I planned to visit Jean, I plucked a few very pink blooms from the patch at the gate to that house. I looked at them as I walked along the road and thought to myself that the pink was so deep it was almost red. You probably know the proper name for that colour which I still do not know to this day. I had not a thought about how I must have looked in school uniform, and carrying this bunch of flowers.
When I knocked on Jean's door, my hands were hidden behind my back. She opened, took one look at me and knew at once that I was up to something. Neither of us had any idea at that particular moment how far that 'something' was going to take us. I walked in at the door and turned my body towards her, keeping my hands hidden from her. As soon as she had closed the door, I flashed out the flowers and handed them to her. Her scream of pleasure must have been heard as far as the student block.
I had merely wanted to please my dear friend who just happened to be my cousin, but she grabbed me in a bear hug, swung me round in sheer ecstasy. Then she kissed me right on the cheek. Both of us were shocked. We stared at each other as if accusing the other of having crossed boundaries. But then she looked again at her flowers.
"Bob, where did you get such lovely flowers?" And her arm went around me once again.
"My secret!" I answered. After a nice cup of tea, which even in those days she flavoured with some spices, I lay my problem before her. I had never before stood before a crowd of people, much less tell them anything. The very idea filled my stomach with butterflies. But as the hour crept along I had a clearer idea of what to say. But how I was going to do it remained a source of great worry. As I left she hugged me again and kissed me. "I know you will be very good!"
I walked on a cushion of air on my way home. Not just because I had material for the debate, either! The feel of a woman's body against mine was new, but how delicious! I wanted to run back for another hug. That night my cousin featured in my sexual fantasies for the first time ever! I had used other women, including my teachers, girls I met in the bus, or even maids in my private movies before this. I had mastered how to give myself thunderous orgasms with those movies playing in my head.
Somehow, my cousin brought me to a much greater height of pleasure than anyone else. I masturbated three or four times that night, so delicious was my cousin Jean. We had become so easy with each other over the years that I felt no reluctance to tell her of my experience with her in my mind when I next met her.
"How did the debate go?" she wanted to know.
"Oh, it was fabulous! Our house won the debate, the games and the academic points for the term. So we came out as Cock House. It was due to you that we won the debate." Then I told her what happened to me the night after getting her advice, and many more nights after that.
She looked at me with mild shock; but behind it lay something like admiration. "Thank you for being brave enough to tell me that. You could have kept it a secret and I would never have guessed." She then hugged me and lay her head on my shoulder. This made me feel so mature and responsible that I put my hands around her more tightly than ever I had done. We sat like that on her sofa for long moments, enjoying the closeness. From the blues, a thought crashed into my brain that I could feel her boobs against my arm. I moved our bodies so that I could rub them more.
