I don't know exactly when the thought of fucking my cousin became an obsession, but somehow the fantasy has played in my mind so long it has taken up residence. I think about him at night, in my dreams. When he walks in a room, I have to cross my legs to keep the throbbing between them at bay. When I visit my aunt and he's there, my body practically takes on a mind of its own. It's not right, but I am completely powerless to stop feeling the way I do. Sometimes the urge to touch him is so strong that I have to leave the room. I often wonder if he senses my attraction. So often I've imagined him between my legs that I feel like we've actually fucked.
We didn't grow up together, but I don't see how that could really matter. He's not just a distant cousin. He's my first cousin. He's my mom's twin sister's son, which makes him almost like a brother. Never mind that I wasn't raised by my mother. Never mind that I didn't even meet her until I was 18, or him until I was in my twenties....he's my FIRST cousin!
And I'm a good girl. Always have been. I have only been with one man...my husband....and even though we were having sex for over a year before we were married, I am nobody's slut. We've been married over twelve years. We have three kids and I am a good, moral woman. On the outside.
On the inside, my mind takes me places my body only dreams of following. I fantasize. About my coworkers, even some of my friends....I daydream about what it would be like to taste women, to touch their bare breasts, to lick their wet pussies, to drive my finger deep inside them. I imagine strapping on a dildo and fucking them or being fucked by them. I think about the men I work with....what their hard cocks might look like....how they would react if I kneeled down in front of them and took them in my mouth....if they would moan in pleasure or be shocked and horrified beyond comprehension.
I fantasize big...and often when I'm alone, I slide my fingers under my panties and finger myself to orgasm. I like to read other people's fantasies and imagine the sound of their hot bodies slapping together. I daydream about being there, watching, and eventually joining in the seduction.
And it's not like my husband doesn't sexually satisfy me. We're still attracted to one another, and we probably have a better sex life than most parents of three that are working two jobs between them and trying to keep up with the bills.
Having said all of that, I just can't explain my fixation with my cousin. I could have many other men if I so desired. In my early thirties, I'm still able to turn heads regularly. I'm 5'4" with soft curves...large nice shaped breasts with prominent nipples and a round, firm ass. My legs are long for a woman who is on the petite side. My midsection is short, and that makes my breasts seem all the larger.
My hair is just past my shoulders in length...reddish brown and thick....but my eyes are my best feature...big enough that they are the focal point of my face; green and gold flecked with dark, heavy eyelashes. My skin is ivory yet not too pale.
Because my husband and I still share a mutual attraction and get along so well in other areas of our married life, I often ask myself what makes my mind wander so much. Part of me thinks it's hormonal....I'm in my thirties and may be reaching my sexual prime...another part of me thinks it was because I was just barely out of my teens when I married and started a family. Having had just one sexual partner in my life, sometimes I wonder if I just want to know what else is out there.
These fantasies often feel so real that the temptation to act on my feelings is great; I have to consciously restrain myself. So it is where my cousin is concerned.
I remember the first time I met him. I had only met my birth mother a few years earlier, and I was reluctant to get to know this whole new family. I loved my adopted parents, and I didn't feel any emptiness in my life or any drive to find out about my heritage. I had small children, and I was content being a young mother, raising them and being a wife.
One day I was carrying in groceries to the apartment where we lived at the time. My brother-in-law was helping me get them out of the car, and a stranger walked up to me. I focused in on his face, and found myself intrigued. This man was just an inch or two taller than I was, but was absolutely amazing to look at. He had short, sandy colored hair and big green eyes, much the same color as mine. His jaw was strong, and lips full. He had a barbed wire tattoo around both arms, which were bulky with muscle. In fact, he wasn't wearing a shirt that day, and it was more than obvious that he was a man who liked to work out. It was a hot summer afternoon and sweat was beading on his chest. I remember being amazed at how tan and smooth his chest looked, and almost comepletely hairless. I felt the urge to reach and touch his broad chest, but quickly looked away. I speculated that this must be how some men feel, compelled to stare at the breasts of a beautiful woman, instead of looking them in the face. If he noticed my admiration of his rock hard body, he didn't let on. Maybe he was used to women staring at him that way. Maybe that's why he wasn't wearing a shirt, but I couldn't swear to it. I guess if a guy has a six pack to show off, more power to him.
With my eyes back on his handsome face, this stranger flashed me a friendly grin, and stuck out his hand to introduce himself.
"Hi" he smiled. "I know you don't know me, but I think I've seen pictures of you at Mom's house, and I believe you might be my cousin. Are you Anne's daughter, Missy?"
For a few seconds I was taken aback, as I couldn't believe this gorgeous stranger was related to me.
Finally after an awkward pause I had the good sense to respond to him.
"Yes, I'm Ann's daughter." I paused for a moment, trying to think, despite my obvious suprise. Then the thought occured to me. "You must be Chad," I guessed. I had heard enough about the family to deduce that much information. I knew Ann's twin sister, Jan had a son about my age, so this had to be him.
He beamed. "Yes! I'm Chad! It is so good to finally talk to you," he continued. "I've actually seen you around several times. I have a friend that lives in this same apartment building, and I thought that was you in 24E. But I never said anything because I wanted to be sure."
My brother-in-law, Mario, introduced himself to Chad and then took the last bag of groceries in for me. Chad and I stood talking in the parking lot for at least fifteen minutes afterward. He was not only a nice looking man, but seemed like a genuinely nice guy as well. When Chad's friend came out of the building and got into his car, Chad announced that he had to get going. We had been having such a good conversation, and I was disappointed that it had to end. Before he walked away, Chad reached out and gave me a warm, friendly hug. When he touched me, a spark lept from me to him. I don't know if he noticed it, but it was as tangible to me as the ground beneath my feet. When I walked up the steps into my apartment, I realized my heart was beating faster than usual. My palms were wet with sweat. I felt a little weak and my mouth had gone dry. Moreover, when I opened the door and shut it behind me, it occured to me: my palms weren't the only thing wet. I don't know if that exact moment was when I made the decision, but soon I had a change of heart. It was high time I got to know this other side of my family a lot better.
Well, the years have passed and I have spent many an hour hanging out at my aunt Jan's house, getting to know her and her family. When Chad is there, we chat easily, laughing and telling stories. I'm always especially happy to see his car in the driveway when I pull up. My aunt keeps a room for him there at her house. I think she realizes he'll visit more frequently if he feels at home. It is that very same room that is the setting in many of my fantasies. It's me, Chad and a bed....no clothes, no rules, no holds barred.
There are times that Chad gets me hot without even meaning to...although I'd like to hope that back in his mind he's wildly attracted to me, too. It would be such a rush to think that he's also fighting his urges...that he longs to approach me, to let me know how he feels, to reach out and touch my body...but his moral dillemma keeps him at bay.
In my mind, that is the way it is. Deep inside my thoughts, Chad wants me just as much as I want him. He is constantly restraining himself, longing to feel my lips brush against his. His cock hardens at the sound of my voice alone. When I walk in the room, his eyes gravitate to my breasts, and he only hopes I will bend over long enough for him to catch a glimpse of my ivory globes. He frequently passes me in the hallway, just to "accidently" brush himself against me. When I lick my lips, he imagines them on his cock, licking and slurping up and down its length. In my imagination, Chad wants me so much that he has to excuse himself to go the bathroom when I'm around, just to relieve the tension in his throbbing cock. I can envision his hot cum spurting all over his meat, dripping down onto his hand, sticky and sadly, wasted.
