Writer's note: This story is set in Europe. It is quite normal for Europeans to marry cousins and obviously legal. The tone is set from a woman's perspective. Hope you like it.
*****
Many times I have read the stories my husband writes about me on this site. Finally, after five years of marriage, today, being our anniversary, I decided to jot down the story of how he conquered me, for all to read.
Not that he was incorrect in his telling, but it is, of course, through his eyes, his emotions. There are always two sides to every coin, and perhaps this coin also deserves polishing and showing.
In a nutshell, although we married late, it's not as if we had not met before. Because we had. Many years before. And why is that? Simple. We were first cousins. Figuratively, and practically, kissing cousins.
Ever since I can remember, there was always this strange attraction to each other.
From the days when we were young not to know any better, we played doctor together. We learned, explored, asked, and enjoyed each other heartily. I loved touching his little penis, a little acorn which used to get so stiff, while he rubbed his finger up and down my tight cunny, getting me excited without knowing exactly why.
My throat used to dry up and some strange animalistic pleasure would possess me.
Of course, nothing further than that would be experimented upon, and we spent our younger youth years wondering what it was that we were doing to each other.
Going swimming regularly together in secluded rivers meant I would never wear a bathing suit bra or shirt while I had budding breasts. Chris was fascinated by the large nipples which were the first to bud, and his circling fingers on each bump meant they were often hard as nails.
We were pretty inseparable until our parents eventually stopped us spending too much time at each other's house and in each other's company when my mum found out that we had gone swimming and my bra top was still at home. It was a shock to our system since we were so close.
Growing up, we met and married others. To cut a long story short, my husband was killed on duty in the first Iraq war, while Chris's wife left him for some woman she worked with. A lesbian artist or something. Sad. But it was a mercifully swift closure.
As single adults, now over thirty, we grew closer together again. My mother died first, my father not lasting the year after her passing, while Chris's parents lived on the other side of the city. We rarely saw them. That was fine with us really. Neither he, nor I, got on too well together with them.
I sold my tiny apartment and moved in to mom's house again.
The house left to me was too big actually. It was a huge sprawling single story building out in the suburbs, with few neighbors around. Well, no neighbors, actually. More out of loneliness than being afraid, I sked Chris whether he would be interested in sharing the place.
There were too many rooms and when I offered him the complete east wing, overlooking the beach we frequented as youngsters, he accepted. His lease for his apartment was due extremely soon, and his landlord had hiked up his rent once again.
The biggest change I would have to overcome was my perchance to go around the house clad only in panties, or at most, a negligee'. I was no longer the slim dancer I once was and had rounded up a bit too much.
My breasts, especially, had grown larger every year, and now I sported a natural 36D bust which admittedly drooped down more than I would have liked it to. Still firm, but with a little sway to them. Strange as it may seem, I enjoyed feeling their movement beneath me as I moved around at home. I worked mostly from home, so on many days, I was content to let the girls go free.
As a divorcee, working as a freelance IT-support, Chris had enough money but was not immune to the perils of renting. He lived a minimalistic life, and his possessions barely filled one of the rooms. His pride and joy was the huge sixty-five inch television which he installed with the entertainment center in what we had christened the tv-room. It was a dining room we had converted into somewhere we could relax.
Realistically, we would have little, if any, visitors, and it was too good a room to leave empty.
My cousin had pulled into the garage on that first November six years ago, all his belongings in the truck, barely filling the back. The TV, the entertainment unit, his game consoles and computers, a smattering of clothes, and his cat, Nibbles. I didn't really want pets, but when his ginger cat jumped on to my lap and curled up on me, totally trusting, I soon changed my mind.
When we put the clothes in the closet, we had to laugh at how little space they occupied. Like me, Chris too did not need to go anywhere to work, and as he said he mostly worked in boxers and socks, I had to laugh at the incongruity of it all.
We agreed that for conformity's sake we would wear a t-shirt and shorts.
"Although if you are cool with it, I have no problems with you walking around with your boobs showing." His reply was typical male. I had to understand him. I don't suffer this political bullshit thing. I was a girl, I liked guys. He was a guy who liked girls, and thus, boobs. Easy to understand.
The first four weeks were perhaps the strangest days of my life as I had to once more, share a house with another person. With his job, Chris supposedly had to be on call to help people out at odd times of the day. With the time zones the United States employed, it was only natural to keep these hours. He had however joined loose forces with some other guys to distribute their workload according to the time zones. This meant he would generally be done by six in the evening.
Similarly, I worked with an electronics company, specializing in logistics, or box-shifting. Electronic Components supply was no longer a luxury, but a necessity, and my day was spent haggling with the major silicon companies.
It seemed to us that it made sense that we convert a room into an office. Chris was dead nifty with wood and after some trips to our local Ikea, created something I had only dreamed about for so long.
He had shooed me out on the last day, before adding LED strips along the ceiling, behind the desks, and under our monitors, cutting out direct light totally. The eggshell grey ceiling was topped with a gentle curving corniche which deflected the lights laid down behind them, a long low desk on which both our Macbooks stood, two 'gaming' chairs in front of each computer, and laminated wood floor paneling.
Movie posters adorned the two walls which did not have windows in them. The room was transformed totally, and I must have gasped as I entered our new 'office' for the first time.
I pulled him to me and enveloped Chris in a hug, unmindful that I was just wearing a thin t-shirt, through which, no doubt, he could feel my large, soft, titties. I didn't care. I enjoyed the sensation of somebody human touching me again after all that time.
So yeah, those first few weeks went by swiftly, working in the mornings until perhaps noon when we stopped for a light lunch, and after a short rest, returned at two, until we called it a day at around six pm.
Pretty soon it was December, and we had grown once again, accustomed to each other's presence and intimacy. We liked each other a lot, I guess more than was proper. But we were two human beings who had had bad luck in life and were starting to find it a bit lonely at night.
Which is why our eight-o'clock daily appointment in the tv room was sacrosanct to us. We either challenged each other to a chess game, read together, or simply slumped in the overly large sofa, covered with a throw over, to watch soccer (Chris was an avid fan) or the latest movie on Netflix.
We wanted for nothing, and we needed nothing. The house was mine, we were secure financially, and were enjoying the spoils of war, so to speak.
All that we lacked was the nightly companionship in bed. And that included sex, naturally. I was a different woman to most. While most of my colleagues had serious issues with sex, I relished it when my husband was still around. It felt so natural, so joyful, to give yourself completely to your partner with no inhibitions at all.
So it is no surprise to mention that my favorite evening for cooling down was when we watched a movie. We would cuddle up under the light quilt and simply hold each other. Many a day we dozed off in front of the tv, and I would invariably be the one to wake up around midnight, movie long over, and mostly unwatched. Sofas do not make good movie-watching experiences.
I guess this is where it got interesting. Chris was a heavy sleeper, and once he is under, it would need a great undertaking to wake him up. And how do I know? Well, once, it must have been a week before Christmas, I woke up groggily, feeling him slumped against me. His hand was on my breast, just over my flimsy t-shirt, while he snored softly but deeply, dead to the world.
I tried to shake him awake, but it was like trying to animate a brick wall. Meanwhile, my nipple under his hand was growing harder by the second as I continued to think of where it rested. With a show of boldness, I pulled my t-shirt up and over my breast, hissing as I felt his soft warm hand over my exposed booby. My nipple was elongated enough to fit between his fingers and as I moved slowly beneath him, I could feel my sexual instincts kick in.
My left hand moved to my uncovered pussy, pantiless as usual after my shower, and I diddled my clit slowly as I moved his hand over my breast, sending sparks through my nipple, fully distended. It felt heavenly and I had to bite my quivering lip to keep myself from moaning out loud. Horny as I was, it didn't take me too long to cum, and as I pushed three of my fingers into my sopping pussy, I shivered with delight and passion. I trembled as I came quietly but forcefully, seeing stars as I held my breath against explosive groans.
My feet spasmed with the force of my orgasm, and I rubbed my engorged clit slowly as I came down from such a high. The forbidden nature of this masturbatory session had left me flushed and desiring more.
Chris snored on, blissfully unaware of the wanton thoughts of his slightly younger (but very horny) cousin. His hand was still on my breast, and I took a chance and touched his pj covered penis.
It was big. Not excessively so, but a good size nonetheless. And It was erect. Hard and proud. I wondered about that. I slipped my hand through the opening in the pajamas and sighed as I felt a cock in my hand after so many months.
I thought I would be content with just holding it, feeling new sensations coursing through me, but within a couple of minutes I knew I would not be satisfied, and felt my way around his magnificent manhood. Suddenly he shifted his position, and his hunched over stance changed to one on his back, and his length increased by a good amount. At that time, instantly, I knew I had to have that beautiful tool for myself.
My state of arousal was complete, however I could not bring myself to do anything else while my cousin was asleep. I stood up to go to my room and diddle myself to another orgasm, but not before bending down and slurping his tool in my mouth. It smelt of soap and desire, if desire had a smell...
