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K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
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WARNING!
This text file contains sexually explicit
material. If you do not wish to read this
type of literature, or you are under age,
PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE NOW!!!!
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Visit from Cousin Chelsea
by Bellawesterly (bellawesterly@comcast.net)
***
My 13 year old cousin Chelsea and her mother had come
to the East Coast for a funeral followed by a lakeside
family reunion. As luck would have it, she got
permission to ride to the reunion astride my
motorcycle, setting off numerous episodes of
increasingly risque foreplay cumulating in passionate
first-time sex atop my motorcycle. (Mf, ped, exh, inc,
1st)
***
My great aunt Helen had finally died. The grand old
lady passed away at age 93 after suffering for several
years from Alzheimer's disease, and most folks said her
death was really a blessing. She was a beloved aunt
the last survivor of my grandparent's generation and
over one hundred relatives were packed into the small
church.
The family's memorial service for her progressed slowly
as one speaker after another took turns reminiscing and
sharing fond memories. It was only 10:30 AM, and
already the day's sultry humidity had everybody inside
the building dripping with perspiration.
Sitting shoulder to shoulder on uncomfortable pews
didn't help matters. The weather forecast said this
would be one of the hottest mid-summer days seen in
Connecticut for a decade, and indeed, ceiling fans did
little but push around the muggy air. My imagination
wandered, and for a few minutes I thought about the
large family reunion planned later that day, before I
guiltily pulled my mind back to the loss of Aunt Helen.
After what seemed like ages, the service ended and we
filed out of the building. I linked up on the front
steps with my Mom's divorced younger sister Susan and
her 13 year old daughter Chelsea. They had flown in
from Northern California one day earlier, and Susan
quipped that the family got together only for weddings
and funerals. Our plan was to head out of town to a
small state-owned lakeside recreation area, where a
large pavilion had been reserved for the inevitable
gathering of relatives that did take place whenever
someone got married or died.
The short walk to the church parking lot caused us all
to perspire even more, and the men quickly shed
uncomfortable jackets and ties. The humidity made
everyone sticky, and I could see the outline of
undergarments beneath several women's thin summer
dresses. As if reading my mind, Chelsea quipped that
she had worn a bathing suit beneath her dress in
anticipation of swimming up at the lake.
Indeed, the hints of a black bikini were visible
beneath my young cousin's sleeveless white cotton
dress. Held together by a wide belt and row of large
black buttons running down its front, the dress seemed
oddly festive for a funeral. As we talked, she
unselfconsciously unfastened the top two buttons
because of the heat.
I hadn't seen Chelsea in nearly a year, when my family
had stopped by her house while on a West Coast
vacation. In the interim, she had begun the
transformation into a budding young teenager whose long
tresses of raven colored hair accentuated the thin form
of her still developing body.
I thought fondly of that day one year earlier when the
two of us had driven alone into San Francisco to
explore Golden Gate Park. Chelsea was 12 and I had just
turned 18 two cousins sharing each other's company.
Her parents had recently divorced, and she missed her
dad who had moved to a distant city with his new wife.
Looking for reassurance, Chelsea grabbed my hand as we
wandered down a tree lined path and didn't let go.
Resting on a park bench in an isolated grove, the girl
poured out her heart and began to cry. While I didn't
have any answers, I did tell Chelsea I could be a good
listener. Chelsea leaned against me, and it seemed
quite natural when our lips met in a kiss not the
peck one would give to a close relative, but one with a
surprising amount of passion.
I missed my girlfriend back home and this was a good
substitute. But our age difference was a problem not
to mention we were cousins so I broke off our embrace
and suggested we continue our journey. Later, after
sharing a dinner in Chinatown, we drove north across
the Golden Gate Bridge and stopped at a rest area
providing a grand panorama of San Francisco's skyline.
The view was spectacular, and as lights of the city
began to twinkle on, quite romantic. Again, Chelsea
offered me her lips and we embraced in a lingering
kiss. But the rest area was crawling with tourists, and
glancing around, I caught a couple of disapproving
stares. So we jumped back in the car and drove back to
Chelsea's house. My family departed for home the next
day, and other than an occasional card or email, we
hadn't communicated since then.
Now, as we walked across the church parking lot,
Chelsea jabbered to her mother about that brief visit
to San Francisco. Even thought the words were directed
towards her mom, I had the distinct impression the girl
was trying to flirt with me. But clearly, she had
enjoyed last year's outing. Luck would have it that I
had parked my new motorcycle right next to Susan's
rental car.
As I peeled off my jacket and tie and jammed them into
a small duffle bag, Chelsea excitedly asked if she
could ride up to the lake with me on the bike. Her mom
was initially skeptical since Connecticut lacked a
helmet law, but then my own mother walked up and asked
if she could hitch a ride in the car; this would give
the two siblings some private time with one another.
Susan said that because I was a responsible kid, it
would be OK for her daughter to hop aboard my
motorcycle as long as we followed right behind the
rental car. Chelsea had never been on a motorcycle, so
I showed her how to sit on the narrow seat right behind
me and told her to wrap her arms around my mid section
for proper balance.
Straddling the seat was awkward with a dress, and
Chelsea loosened its three lowest buttons which enabled
her to slide its hem well above her knees. Nobody
seemed to notice that fully half the buttons on her
dress were now undone. As we joined the caravan of
relatives heading towards the lake, the 13 year old
snuggled her torso a lot tighter to me than was really
necessary for balance, but this was fine with me and I
admonished her to hold on tight.
It was hard to talk over the bike's engine and rushing
wind, and Chelsea yelled that even though she had come
to Connecticut for a funeral, she had hoped that we
could spend some time together. As the motorcycle
lunched through a busy intersection, one of Chelsea's
hands slipped beneath the buttons of my shirt and
unexpectedly made contact with a nipple.
This surprised me as much as it did her, and I flinched
involuntarily. She started to pull her hand away, but I
said keep it there, and soon my shirt was half
unbuttoned and all ten of Chelsea's fingers were
tweaking my stiffened nipples. I knew girls liked to
have their breasts played with, but gosh, I was a guy
and this was an entirety new experience for me!
I didn't realize it at the time, but Chelsea had been
into the habit of masturbating since the age of ten,
and the ritual of daily orgasm had become an integral
but secret part of her life. The feel of a high
compression 1,100cc motorcycle engine between her legs
was an entirely new sensation, and since she sat almost
on top of it, one that simply wouldn't stop.
After a futile attempt to resist the bike's erotic
pulsations, Chelsea loosening a couple more buttons on
her dress and positioned her bikini-clad clitoris on
the motorcycle's seat in a way that provided maximum
stimulation. This wasn't planned it just sort of
happened. Her roaming hands made it difficult for me to
concentrate on driving, and I didn't notice the girl's
subtle but rhythmic dry humping of the seat behind me
until vibrations of the engine had pushed her nearly to
orgasm and her whole torso, which was crushed against
me, slid an inch up my back, and then down again, over
and over.
Completely lost in her own reverie, Chelsea began
cumming just as we hit the state recreation area's
gravel driveway. We parked beneath a shady grove of
trees, and Chelsea gasped an embarrassed apology to me
while quickly buttoning up her dress. Our mothers
walked towards us, and noticing the red blush on her
daughter's cheeks, Susan commented about the thrill of
wind in one's face. She hadn't a clue!
In the men's changing room, off came the remainder of
my dress clothes and I climbed into a pair of cut off
denim shorts that buttoned up the front, practically
willing my hardened cock to diminish in size so it
wouldn't be noticeable. Stepping out into the bright
midday sun, I bumped into Chelsea who was now clad in
just the small black bikini she had worn beneath her
cotton dress. Her mom joined us, also wearing a black
bikini.
I commented on the family resemblance between them. For
someone in her early 30's, Susan's figure remained
outstanding, kept in shape by a number of different
athletic activities. But at age 13, Chelsea still had
some maturing to do before she would fill out a
swimsuit like her mom. Our family has always been fair
skinned, and we took turns slathering greasy sun block
all over exposed body parts that otherwise would have
quickly turned red with sunburn.
The afternoon was spent eating too much barbequed meat
and some delicious homemade salad, while mingling with
an array of cousins, uncles, aunts and distant
relatives whose relationship to my immediate family
remained vague. Making small talk with the adults was
getting boring, and my 15 year old brother Tim rescued
me by whispering that a few of the younger family
members were sneaking behind the pavilion to smoke a
joint.
Together, we wandered around the corner of the building
and joined a circle people including Chelsea, the
youngest one in the group. Always the enterprising
sort, Tim had smuggled a couple of beers away from the
adults, which along with the marijuana was passed
around lip to lip. The pot was quite strong and Chelsea
began to cough, causing the rest of us to tease her
about being a lightweight. To prove us wrong, she
defiantly gulped down an entire beer, only afterwards
complaining about its bitterness. After the joint had
burned to an ember, we decided to cool off with a dip
in the lake.
Considerable horseplay ensued. Totally stoned, the guys
battled one another in waist deep water as the girls
sat astride their shoulders and attempted to topple
their female opponents. Chelsea volunteered to be my
partner, and climbed aboard my shoulders effectively
buttressing my ears with her bare thighs. I could feel
her bikini clad pubic bone press hard against the back
of my neck. We won several bouts, but also had our
share of getting dunked beneath the water.
Chelsea's bikini top was a bit oversized for her small
breasts, and twice after she popped out of the water
after a fall, it slipped enough to expose a pert brown
nipple. Tugging her top back into place she gave me
looks that implied she knew I was getting an eyeful.
The girls became increasingly aggressive as they
grappled, and as a 17 year old cousin fell backwards
off my brother's shoulders, she grabbed Chelsea's
bikini top and pulled it completely off.
Chelsea, now topless, remained perched on my shoulders
for several seconds before diving into the water,
unsuccessfully covering her exposed breasts with one
hand while attempting to grab her bikini top with the
other. Kids can be cruel, and they made a game of
tossing the top from one person to another, just out of
Chelsea's reach.
It eventually got to Tom, who tossed it to me. To
Chelsea's delight, I handed it back to her and modesty
was quickly restored. In her stoned condition, however,
Chelsea was laughing as hard as the rest of us she
obviously enjoyed being the center of attention. I'm
sure my dick wasn't the only one hardening at the
coquettish behavior of our young cousin.
As if to confirm the effect she was having on me,
Chelsea several times brushed her hand against the
bulge in my shorts. We had drifted to a somewhat deeper
part of the swimming area, and the girl showed no
outward reaction as I slipped both my hands beneath her
bikini bottoms to cup the flesh of her buttocks. Back
on dry land, however, we had to stop our risquι
behavior.
As evening approached, family members began to pack up
and say their extended goodbyes. My dad had booked the
state park pavilion, signing a document guaranteeing
the entire place would be left in clean condition. So
of course, he assigned me the task of gathering up
paper plates covered both with bugs and half eaten
dollops of potato salad, gnawed corn cobs trampled into
the dust, and a scattering of similar debris.
The task was more disgusting than daunting, so I tossed
an empty trash bag to Chelsea still clad in her
bikini due to the heat effectively drafting her as my
assistant. Her mother saw this, and handing her the
dress she had worn to Aunt Helen's memorial service,
told Chelsea she could ride back home with me on the
motorcycle once the picnic ground had been cleaned up.
As we tossed the last of several trash bags into the
dumpster, a ranger came along and said the park was
closing in thirty minutes. This allowed us enough time
to take one final dip in the lake, after which, we sat
atop a table in the now deserted picnic area and
watched the sunset. I pulled a tightly rolled joint out
of my duffel bag and together we took long drags.
Again my cousin hacked and coughed, but I didn't tease
her; rather, I said it was a sign the pot was good. I
reminisced about the time we had walked hand in hand
through Golden Gate Park a year earlier, and Chelsea
asked if I still liked her enough to kiss her. Of
course I did! Our lips met and soon we were making out
like normal teenagers.
My hands slipped beneath her bikini top, and I cupped
each small breast in my palms, eventually twisting and
pinching each nipple into hardened knobs. Probing each
other's mouths with our tongues, we French kissed so
long that when finally breaking apart we had to gasp
for breath. Asking Chelsea where she had learned to do
that, she shyly responded that she made out a couple of
times with guys back home in California. I asked her
what else she did with the guys, and in response she
pulled off her bikini top and handed it to me.
Just then, the ranger's truck reentered the parking lot
prompting Chelsea to run topless into the women's
changing room. I wandered to the motorcycle and put on
the shirt I had worn to the memorial service.
Chelsea exited the changing area wearing her sleeveless
dress and handed me the top and bottom of her bikini
which I placed in the duffel bag. Noticing my surprise,
she said the swimsuit was full of suntan oil, and that
she didn't want it stain the dress.
The heat of the day still remained, but now at dusk,
the humidity had gone up and my shirt was soaked
through with perspiration. Chelsea was no better off,
and just the exertion of walking around caused the thin
cotton dress to cling to her skin. Silhouetted by the
setting sun as she stood in front of me, Chelsea was
oblivious to the fact that subtle hints of brown areola
could be seen beneath the damp garment.
There were ten buttons on the front of her dress, the
top two of which were already undone. I caught a
glimpse of wispy black pubic hair as she unfastened the
bottom three to make herself more comfortable while
straddling the motorcycle seat.
As my cousin hugged her thin torso close to me, her
hands went directly beneath my shirt without
hesitation. Even before we exited the state park,
Chelsea was again stimulating my nipples as she began
to press her naked cunt on the motorcycle's vibrating
leather seat.
Although it was slightly uncomfortable, the tip of my
stiffening cock worked its way out of the denim shorts.
It was only a matter of time before Chelsea's roaming
fingers brushed against it. After a brief pause of
surprise, she began to rub my glans head in earnest,
making it slippery with pre-cum. Then one after
another, the buttons on my cutoffs were undone and my
engorged penis popped out fully exposed.
I was now being jerked off by a 13 year old while
zipping down a state highway at 50 miles per hour!
The rush was intense, and at that point I didn't care
if any passersby saw what was happening. The girl had
been acting like a little prick tease all day, and I
figured it was only a matter of time before she found
the real thing. As she masturbated me, Chelsea somehow
managed to unfasten the remaining five buttons on her
dress, which was now held in place only by a belt
cinched tightly around her waist.
With white cotton billowing out behind us, she hugged
her nearly naked torso tightly to my back. To this day
I have never experienced a more erotic sensation, and
as my young cousin's hand worked its way up and down my
shaft, big gobs of sperm spewed all over the inside of
my shirt and onto my chest, which Chelsea proceeded to
smear around as if it were hand lotion.
Chelsea was near to cumming herself and was avidly dry
humping the bike's seat as she had done that morning on
our trip up to the picnic area. She hadn't quite
reached orgasm when I abruptly pulled the motorcycle
off the road and into a deserted overlook I had
discovered a couple of years earlier while taking local
girls out on dates (the place was popular with lovers,
evidenced by a scattering of used condoms and empty
beer cans).
I liked it because it was possible to look at the tiny
lights of farms and small villages in the valley below
us. However, my cousin and I were so horny that the
setting's romantic qualities didn't even enter into the
equation. Jumping off the motorcycle, I threw the
sticky shirt to the ground as the already loosened cut-
off shorts dropped to my ankles.
Even thought I had just cum, my turgid dick pointed
skyward. Chelsea herself was virtually naked, and had
been ever since undoing the buttons of her dress, which
she now slid off her shoulders allowing it to bunch up
on the frame of the motorcycle. Turning side saddle on
the leather seat to face me, her vagina was fully
exposed since at that early stage of puberty, the
thatch of hair covering her crotch was still quite
sparse.
Our lips smashed together as we embraced, with my penis
wedged between us. I then bent down and easily engulfed
one small breast and then the other into my mouth,
lapping the hardened nipples as I did so. Standing back
up, I grabbed my cock and slid it across the flesh of
Chelsea's stomach leaving a trail of pre-cum along the
route. I then rubbed its tip against the nubbin of her
exposed clitoris before attempting to push it into her
vagina.
My young cousin was tight too tight at that point
so I encouraged her to take hold of my penis and use it
to exploit the sensitivity of her vaginal opening. She
was close to cumming when we arrived at the hidden
make-out spot, and this pushed her over the edge into a
noisy moaning orgasm.
Reflexively, Chelsea wrapped her legs around my naked
buttocks and pushed her pelvis against my swollen
glans. Again I tried to enter her, this time with
success. We gradually developed a rhythm, repeatedly
thrusting our hips together at the same moment and then
pulling apart -- her vagina eventually swallowing my
cock one inch at a time. I had never screwed someone so
young and so tight, and the cadence brought me to the
evening's second orgasm.
We had not considered using birth control, so at the
very last second I jerked my penis free just as it shot
a wad of cum over her pubic lips. The remaining spurts
of jizz landed on my cousin's stomach and wide spread
legs.
We remained locked in a fucking position for several
minutes afterwards, continuing to kiss one another and
catch our mutual breath. Chelsea said she had never
before gone all the way with a guy. Geez, I thought,
you're only thirteen! Then, regaining our senses, we
walked naked over to the edge of the scenic overlook,
finally taking in the beauty of the moonlit valley far
below.
I pointed out where I thought my parent's house was
located, and suggested we get on the way before someone
down there noticed our prolonged absence. So we pulled
back on discarded clothing and zipped down the road.
With so many visiting relatives, things at home were in
pandemonium and nobody took note when I drove up the
driveway.
Chelsea and I were both a disheveled mess, which we
plausibly explained was due to cleaning the picnic area
followed by a windy ride home. Our parents didn't give
the issue a second thought, and told us to go get
cleaned up!
END
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The author does not condone child abuse, this story is
meant as an erotic fantasy not real life. Anyone acting
out such scenarios in "real life" can look forward to
many unproductive years getting it up the butt by a
fellow convict in their local prison.
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Kristen's collection - Directory 35