It all started when my cousin Claire called me to help her paint the living room of her new apartment. Claire was actually my "first cousin once removed"...her mother Mary was my first cousin; her mother and mine were sisters. In this case, Claire was "removed" in more ways than one, when the family moved out of town so that Mary's husband Hugh could take a job in another town. But that marriage had broken up, and Mary and Claire had moved back here. Claire wanted to go to the university here, and Mary got her old job as a dental hygienist back. Mary was always "Aunt Mary" to me, since there was a fifteen-year difference in our ages, and I always knew her as an adult.
I hadn't seen Claire in six years, so I was glad to help her out. Her apartment was two blocks from the campus, in a hundred-year-old house that had been divided into three apartments, one on each floor. Claire had the top floor. When I arrived, the stepladder had been set up and the paint cans were open. All the windows were open, too, to waft away the smell of the drying paint in the warm autumn breeze. She had provided rollers at the end of long handles, because we were starting with the ceiling. I was wearing the same thing as she was... a tee-shirt and shorts. But her shorts ended just south of her crotch, giving me a great view of shapely legs. Her blonde hair was cut much shorter than I remembered. Her tits didn't show much under her shirt, but she was definitely more developed than I'd remembered. Well, she was over eighteen now, so it figured.
After a half an hour, our clothes had drips all over them. "Screw this!" Claire said, and she took off her tee-shirt. I gasped. She wore no bra, and her tits were on plain view to me... not large, but firm and capped with pink gum-drop nipples. Then she shucked her shorts (she was already barefoot) and stood before me in just her panties, tight enough to show a faint camel-toe.
"Now you!" she ordered. I stripped down likewise, until I had only my boxer shorts on.
"Isn't that better?" she said with a grin. "We can throw all the clothes into the washer when we're done. Wanna stay for dinner? That'll give us time to do a load."
The first load will be the one I'm going to have to shoot before long, I thought. My cock was already swelling.
Now I hadn't seen Claire since she was around twelve. She was four years younger than me, and when you're that young, four years is a huge gap. So we didn't really socialize then, and I just thought of her as one of my kid cousins, just one of many in my Irish-American family. And she probably thought of me as that skinny kid with the acne and the stammer.
But six years later, that blue-eyed freckled kid with the short blonde hair wasn't that kid anymore. She was a by-God woman, with perfect tits and, I swear, a thigh gap and a camel-toe that I could scarcely tear my eyes away from.
"So... dinner?" At the sound of her voice, I snapped out of my reverie.
"Sure."
"Deal! Let's get back to work."
The work went quickly, and we no longer minded getting paint all over our bodies. My boner never went away, and I saw her glancing at it with an impish grin. When we were half-way through the job, having finished the living room and ready to do the dining room, she said "Why don't we shuck our undies? They're getting painty, too."
"You just want to see what I've got in my shorts!" I answered.
"Like I haven't seen one before? Get real!"
"Well, I will if you will."
So she did. But she didn't disappoint. When her panties came down, they revealed a wreath of trimmed blonde hair that framed two sets of labia, the puffy outer ones and just a hint of inner ones peeking out at the bottom.
Stark naked now, she regarded me expectantly. I slid down my shorts and my cock sprang free, getting harder by the minute.
"Well, I might as well put some paint on it," she said impishly as she dipped the roller into the tray and applied it to the underside of my cock. "We're going to wash it all off, anyway."
"Hey, don't I get to do that with you?"
"You'd like that, wouldn't you?"
"Well, fair's fair." I painted her nipples with my roller. "Can I do your pussy, too?"
"I'll think about it," she said. "Let's get back to work. I'll throw those clothes in the washer."
Back to painting we went. As we worked, I found it hard to tear my eyes away from Claire. Even from the back, she was beautiful, with a tight "runner's butt" and a slim waist. When she reached up to paint the ceiling, her breasts lifted up invitingly and then dropped again as she lowered her arms. When she bent over to get to the lower part of the wall, those tits dangled invitingly. And when seen from the rear in that position, she displayed a lovely view of her pussy, begging to be fondled or penetrated from behind. Is it any wonder that my boner never really went away?
It did soften, though, and that gave me something else to appreciate... just the feel of it swinging and hitting my legs as I moved about. I'd never done anything active when I was naked before, and the new sensation of my cock and balls swinging gave me a whole new appreciation of going nude.
So we finished the ceiling and walls, glancing at each other's naked bodies. Just she was getting ready to cap the paint can, she said,
"Paint my nips again!" she demanded. I dipped my finger into the can and painted her nipples, pushing them back and forth until they stiffened. "And my cunt!" More paint, and I put a white streak right up her cleft, massaging her clit with the slippery stuff.
"Now let's shower," she said as she capped the can. The bathroom had an old claw-foot tub with a shower ring supporting the curtain. It was tight, but we made it work. As we lathered each other up and washed the paint off, my boner returned, and I felt her nipples stiffen again as I stroked her breasts. My mind was a torrent. This was my kid cousin, a girl I'd known as a child. But she wasn't that little girl anymore. I felt my lust welling up.
She hugged me, pressing my boner against her belly, and whispered into my ear. "Wanna fuck, Danny?"
"I was thinking the same thing. But is it right? We're cousins!"
"I thought about that when we were painting. You're not that shy, skinny teenager with the stammer that I used to know. You're a different person now. So am I. I'm not getting that familial vibe. And even if I was, I don't think that would make a difference. So let's do it! But first, let's take care of this!" With that, she applied a bit of soap to her hand and ran it up and down my boner. Within seconds, I spewed a load onto her hand as we kissed.
We dried each other off in a hurry and went into the bedroom. The threw herself on the unmade king-size waterbed, lay on her back, and spread her legs in welcome. I knelt on her bed between the V of her legs and fondled my limp dick in anticipation.
"Wait," she said. "Give me head first."
She tasted like pussy and soap, and I lapped it up with vigor. At the top of her slot, I saw her clitoris, now swollen, and gave it some attention.
"Can I finger-fuck you?"
"I thought you'd never ask!"
