Cousins Long Lost

My aunt Sarah approached me from across the room. I had been avoiding her all night because, well, I just felt uncomfortable around her. I just didn't ever know what to say. Our exchanges were always awkward and stilted, the ice never really breaking.

"It's good to see you Jeremy," she said. "It's too bad that Heather couldn't be here. I know that she would have loved to have seen you."

I smiled. "Yes, it would have been really nice to have seen her too," I agreed.

Heather was my Aunt Sarah's daughter, and I hadn't seen her since I was 21. In fact, it had been seventeen years since I had seen either my aunt or Heather, and I wasn't sure if I was disappointed or relieved that Heather wasn't there. Mostly disappointed. No, wait. Mostly relieved.

Oh hell.

My aunt continued, "I know that you two always had a...

special

connection."

I fought hard not to blanche. What did she mean by that? Could she know? If she knew,

how

could she known? Surely Heather wouldn't have said anything to

her mother

!

The look on my aunt's face was unreadable. She wasn't the brightest bulb in the box, so the likelihood that this was some sort of signal to me was slim. But still, there was that look on her face, and the

way

she said it.

She moved on, not saying another word, leaving me with a heart pounding violently in my chest and my legs significantly weakened.

My mind raced. If she knew, was she okay with it? Was that

ex post facto

permission? If she didn't know, what

did

she mean by that? There was no way in hell I could approach her and ask her. As slow as she was, the act of asking the question would have raised considerable suspicion and focus a spotlight on something that I did not want brought to light.

The biggest secret of my entire life.

I excused my way past people talking in the living room and went into the bathroom at the top of the stairs and locked the door.

Slumping down against the wall, I felt the blood pulse in my ears, my breathing constricted. I found myself starting to shake, uncontrollably at the thought that my secret had been exposed, that somehow Aunt Sarah had unearthed what happened seventeen years ago.

I bent to place my forehead in my hands and felt the skin damp with perspiration.

What did she mean?

Maybe Heather had a diary. Aunt Sarah could be a nosy bitch if she wanted to be. Maybe Heather confided to her mother instead. I found that scenario highly unlikely, because Heather always despised her mother. Then again, maybe they had a reconciliation. Seventeen years is a long time and a lot can happen in that time.

Fuck

! I thought, and then realized I had said it out loud.

But then the look on Sarah's face had shown no anger, no concern. I started to calm down a little. It was well known about Heather's crush on me growing up. In fact, it was something of the family joke.

It's strange how relatives can hold onto things you did as a young child and bring them up at inappropriate moments (like family reunions). In my family it was Heather's infatuation with me.

When I was nine and she was six, the story goes much to the amusement of everyone in attendance, Heather would chase me around my grandparents' house, trying to kiss me. I would run away in horror, probably something about how girls had cooties or something.

Cue big laughter all around. Cute kids. Harmless family stories.

Heather's father was in the Coast Guard, and mine was in the Navy. Between our two families we never spent considerable time together because of those distances. As a result, our families almost never were in the same place at the same time.

Whenever we were together, however, the scene played itself out between Heather and me. I don't think there was ever a time when Heather didn't have a crush on me, and followed me around wherever we went. Her older bother Charlie, a mean little kid (and a year younger than myself) would constantly make Heather's life miserable by chanting incessantly, "Heather and Jeremy sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G..."

Heather would plead for him to stop, but Charlie could never pass up an opportunity to try to humiliate his younger sister.

What no one knew or understood was that Heather didn't just have a crush, and it didn't ever dissipate. She knew something that no one else could possibly had ever imagined or believed - for her, it was love at first sight.

Looking back I suppose there was no way to recognize it for what it was. After all, who gets love at first sight when you're a toddler? Nevertheless, whatever it was, Heather jealously guarded her feelings and protected them from Charlie's teasing.

As I grew older I found myself looking forward to the moments when I would see her, few and far between as they were. The three year age difference between us meant that the feelings were confusing. She wasn't like a sister (though I didn't have a sister so I wasn't sure what that would truly feel like), but she wasn't like any other girl I had ever known either. All I knew was I enjoyed her company during those times we saw each other, and soon we were inseparable during those visits.

Sometimes those visits were only for a weekend and years apart, but the only thing that changed were our bodies as we started our journey through puberty. At that age three years means a huge difference, but it didn't change our enjoyment of each other's company.

And the teasing and comments continued, not just from Charlie but from the rest of the extended family as well. We would sit on our grandparents living room floor (the usual place where our families would congregate) and play with our matchbox cars. Our playtime world was more telling for how we played, rather than what we played - Heather would always want to be my "wife" and I would play the "husband".

Looking back now I see that it's completely understandable (and possibly inevitable) that we were teased so much.

It was during one of these gaps between visits that I had the dream, at fifteen. I was standing on top of a mountain with a girl whom I loved with all my heart. I couldn't see her face, but when we held each other I knew that this was the woman I needed to find. She was the perfect woman, the woman that I knew must one day be with me forever.

Even so the feeling was so strong, and it was so pure, it was also tragic. I knew that this woman before me was the one I was made for, but would never be able to have. Even in the dream I knew that the woman whom I couldn't see clearly but felt such powerful emotions represented Heather. I pushed the thought out of my head instantly, dismissing it as ridiculous and the ravings of an uncontrollable subconscious.

I was in denial about who the woman represented, though. I was torn by the sick, twisted meaning that the dream represented and the purity of the love I felt within it. I went to sleep for months afterwards hoping to return to the dream and find out who the true identity was supposed to be. It couldn't be Heather, it

couldn't

be!

I didn't want Heather to be the woman I've considered to be the one for me. I didn't want her to be

the one

. I didn't want it to be true, because if it did it meant that I would never be able to have what I knew I was capable of feeling.

My romantic life became dictated by that feeling I had in the dream, the capacity for love was so deep that I sought it in every girl I ever dated. Throughout high school and college I sought that girl, that one who would allow me to feel the way I felt in the dream. As the years passed on I felt trapped between the overwhelming nature of the emotion, and yet the realistic disappointment that comes with the knowledge that my ability to love so fully and completely might just be an artifact of the mind.

When I graduated college, I had made plans to travel and see the world. I was going to spend a year abroad traveling, working and studying in France. I was extremely excited and had all but forgot about the dream as I had no interest in finding a girl for a long-term relationship before I left.

My bags were packed, my passport and visa ready, and I was good to go. My arrangements were made to leave for the south of France immediately after the July 4th celebration at my aunt's house.

These celebrations were always a lot of fun. My uncle set up a volleyball net in the back yard, they had a pool, and there was more food than could feed a small village. I always looked forward to them and felt that this would be a fantastic sendoff.

Everything shattered like crystal glass the instant I saw Heather. It had been seven years since I had seen her, and the years had not just been kind to her, they had been

phenomenal

. The eleven-year-old that I had last seen had turned into the most amazing 18-year old. Any man, especially one suffering from post-pubescent hormone poisoning, would react to the beautiful woman in front of him.

To my horror, I realized that my initial reaction within the dream - that the woman in the dream represented Heather - was accurate. My heart instantly broke and I felt a weight press down on me so heavy that I could barely breathe. This reunion would be more bittersweet than I could have ever imagined.

When she saw me her eyes lit up, growing wide as saucers. The smile that broke across her face was wide, genuine, and full of joy - exactly the kind of greeting we all hope to have when someone sees us enter the room.

She ran over to me and threw her arms around me, giving me a robust embrace. She was a tiny, slight thing, and her breasts pressed against me as she practically climbed on top of me. She gave me a huge kiss on the cheek, and then another peck on the lips.

I was mesmerized and shocked by my reaction to my cousin. She was gorgeous, sexy, and - how else to put it? -

hot

. I found my mind wandering into places that I never should have thought it would go. I felt the hormonal stirrings inside come unwanted and unbidden.

The day went by in a blur. She never left my side, extremely enthusiastic and always a joy to be around. She was as playful as ever, and once again the comments came out from my relatives.

"Do you remember, Jeremy," one of my aunts said as she chomped on a hot dog. "When Heather used to chase you around Grandma's house, trying to kiss you?"

I didn't. "Actually, no," I said. A couple of the people around the table chuckled.

"Oh, it was so cute!" she continued. Heather, sitting next to me, blushed a little and grinned sheepishly at me.

My uncle, always one for the off-color jokes, pointed at Heather with his beer. "I bet now you wish you had let her catch you, eh?"

A couple of his friends roared with laughter. Heather blushed, but I just feigned amusement. There were several responses going through my head but I felt that it would be best not to encourage anything.

Another aunt piped up. "I remember when you two used to take baths together!"

I looked at Heather, and who shrugged. I raised an eyebrow.

"You mean, when I was four years old?" I asked, trying to diffuse the situation.

My other uncle piped up, "Maybe that's why she was chasing you all those years, stud!"

The entire table erupted in laughter. Heather looked down and blushed, covering her mouth to stifle a giggle. I had no idea what was going through

her

head, but I was not enjoying this line of conversation.

My mother, who had no sense of humor and took things literally, said, "I don't get it."

This just spawned additional laughter, bringing tears to my aunts' eyes. Fortunately, the comment took the conversation off on a tangent where my mother was the focus of abuse, rather than Heather and myself.

Heather tapped me on the shoulder, and suggested that we go cool off in the pool. Eager to get away from the uncomfortable conversation, I agreed.

We went in to change into our suits and I managed to jump in the pool first. When I broke the surface after my dive I was grateful to have the water cover me, as I when I saw Heather emerge from the house I couldn't help but have a reaction.

Heather wore a normal two-piece bikini suit, but as she walked across the lawn towards the pool there was nothing normal about her. She was finely proportioned, her medium sized breasts rising above an iron-tight tummy. The vertical line of her abdomen guided my eyes down to a tiny belly button, below which was the undeniably sexy arcs of her hip bones that dived down underneath the fabric of the bikini bottoms to god-knows-what treasure between her legs.

She ran across the remaining steps in the pool, and jumped into a cannonball right beside me, splashing me. When she surfaced I attacked her, lifted her out of the water and threw her across the pool.

And the frolicking began. Our hands were all over each other as we tried to dunk each other under the water, tried to tickle each other (that was the worst: I'm extremely ticklish and she apparently remembered all of my spots).

She wasn't completely naive, either, as the frolicking got more adult in nature. I picked her up and lifted her up over my head to toss her behind me, and my face came squarely between her breasts pulling her top down just a bit. Lifting her up and over my head I felt the bare skin of her nipples caress my back as she fell behind me.

I tried to wipe the water from my face but as I did she was now completely behind me and decided to get her revenge by pulling down my swimming trunks. The only thing that prevented them from going any farther down than the crack of my ass was the raging hardon that had jumped to attention when I felt her breasts on my bare skin.

She was still underwater, and I immediately reached in a panic to pull up my shorts. She wouldn't let me get away so easily, and held onto the waistband, continually tugging downwards.

I thrashed about and tried to turn away, which meant turning to face her. Her grip got loose on the waistband and slid around to the front, her fingertips grazing my aching erection for the briefest of moments.

She came up for air, gasping from trying to hold back her laughter. I shimmied my shorts up back around my hips and grabbed her by hers, preparing to lift her into the air to throw her again.

Her legs wrapped around mine and tightened around me in a vice. I couldn't lift her off, no matter how hard I tried. Gravity works, though, and her pelvis came to rest on my aching hardon.

There was no way to hide it. She wasn't letting go, and I couldn't go soft. I kept pulling on her to try to get away, tried to avoid her knowing what she was doing to me. She must have thought that I still wanted to throw her because she tightened her grip even more.

The grinding was pure torture. We were both laughing but inside I was in torment. She ground herself onto me, and I found the head of my cock pressing deeper into her crotch, and it suddenly dawned on me that if it weren't for our flimsy pieces of fabric, I would likely be sliding inside of her pussy at this very moment. Attempting to hide this from her was a farce; there was no way she wouldn't notice

this

.

She was laughing and brushing her long hair out of her face, and what I saw on her face and what I felt below the water seemed like two completely different things. My cock had practically pushed her suit inside of her, but here she was laughing and giggling as if we were doing nothing more than two cousins romping around in the pool.

I looked at her and froze the moment in my head. She was beautiful, her body glistening from the water and her laughter ringing in my ears. Once more my heart broke, as I wanted to kiss her at that moment more than I ever thought it was possible to want anything.

I had never felt such love for someone, never felt such conflicted torture. In that moment I didn't think it was possible to have such a feeling for someone.

This was wrong, I

knew

it was wrong. I felt guilty and horny and in love all at the same time.

I took us down under the water, and heard her scream in delight as she tried to get a last gasp of air. I tumbled in the water and tried to extract myself from her legs. It was difficult to do, and in the process we were touching each other all over. My hands held her hips, ran across her stomach, and in desperation I pulled at the front of her bikini.

I heard her squeal in surprise under the water, but she clutched her bikini and leg go of me.

We resurfaced, and tried to catch our breath. "I think..." I said, gasping, "that I need a break."

She held her hand to her chest, breathing hard as well. "Me too," she said.

She looked as if nothing happened before, nothing untoward at all. She turned around to climb out of the pool and I watched as she started to climb the ladder. Her body emerged from the water, dripping down with her bikini bottoms slightly askew. She pulled them back into place, seemingly unaware that I was lasciviously watching her beautiful form.

She turned and looked surprised that I wasn't following. "Are you coming?" she asked.

I waved her on. "Sure, sure," I said, making a show of breathing more heavily than I needed to. "I just need a moment."

... until this erection goes down!

I thought.

I watched her walk back to the house and tried my best to will my penis back to a normal state. As difficult as it had been to deal with the teasing from my relatives, this would have made my life more difficult than even I could imagine.

When I felt that I could emerge from the water without causing a scene, I got out of the pool and went into the house.

My aunt and uncle had a partially unfinished basement that was traditionally the place where the kids and visitors changed clothes for the pool. I headed down and went into the laundry room right next to the bathroom which we used as our changing room.

Wrapped in my towel, I leaned against the washer as I waited for my turn to change clothes. Heather was changing inside the tiny bathroom, and as I waited my turn I tried not to imagine how she looked as she took off her clothes and momentarily stood naked. Despite myself, my erection returned and I struggled to adjust the towel and hold my change of clothes in front of me as I heard the bathroom door unlock.

She emerged in a summery outfit of shorts and t-shirt, nothing sexy or spectacular, but in my mind she was as beautiful as a supermodel. We maneuvered around each other awkwardly so that I could get inside, but it's difficult when you're both holding onto wet clothing.

I went inside and locked the door out of habit. "What's the matter," I heard her call from outside. "You afraid I'm going to come in or something?"

As a matter of fact, yes!

i thought to myself. "Just a habit," I called back.

I tried to take off my wet bathing suit - difficult to do when wet even when not trying to maneuver around a raging hard-on. As I stood naked in the bathroom I stared down at my treacherous cock. The bastard had no clue what he was excited about, and he didn't care. He had no worries in the world about the position he was putting me in

I brought my hands to the bridge of my nose and squeezed, trying to cope with the situation. Again this was wrong, she was my

cousin

. She was more than just off-limits. She was... hell, she was... I mean...

No!!

As much of a betrayal my body was, it was nothing compared to how much my heart had done. I don't know when I had fallen in love with Heather, there was no moment. But I remembered being in the pool and feeling a rush of emotion towards the woman I was holding in my hands far greater than the arousal between my legs. I started feeling a tickle in the back of my throat and inside my nose, a feeling that suggested threatening tears. This was not what I wanted, this could not be what I deserved. It didn't seem fair.