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Age is but a number. I have heard it said, but for me, it is life. My cousin Jean fits me like a glove, literally, despite being seven years older than I.
Our family were always regarded as the poor relations, the cousins from the countryside. They, by contrast, lived the good life. Her father was Comptroller of State Houses, and personal secretary to the President. Her mother was my mother’s eldest sister so we paid visits to their home fairly regularly, but only when my father was at home, from his job driving trains for the Railways.
Her siblings who were closer to me in age always had such good toys, better than I had ever seen, or could hope to have. I remember toy guns, and big toy cars. In those days she was a much bigger girl than me, such that there was almost nothing in common between myself and her. Or so one would think. If she liked anybody she could have picked any one of my sisters, whom I had in plenty. But for some reason I cannot tell you even now, she liked me and would often call me to her room. She always had some interesting books, in particular the Readers’ Digest magazines. At first I must only have looked at the adverts’ colourful pictures but at some point I must have started to read the stories. This love of reading impressed Jean so much that these visits to her room became quite regular when we were visiting my aunt.
I must tell you that my cousin was the most beautiful creature I had ever set eyes upon, even at eight or nine years of age; she would have been nearer sixteen. I do not remember much before that, but we must have formed a bond quite early on. She took after my aunt who had a roundish figure, big boobs, very white teeth when she smiled at you, and smooth, flawless café-au-lait complexion. I must have been a naughty boy even then to have noticed these things. My cousin was like her mother, not very tall for her age. Therefore she did not beat me by very much despite the difference in age.
When I joined high school at the age of fourteen, she was in her final year at university. So I was delighted to learn that the campus was within a walking distance from my school so I could visit her there. During the four years of my high school I saw her fairly regularly. After her studies she was employed by the same university and given housing not very different from what she had while a student. I visited these quarters too. It was here that our love, platonic so far, bloomed out into the carnal variety. It happened on this wise.
One evening during my fifth year of schooling when I had reached the ripe old age of nineteen, I was to be lead speaker during the school debate. I forget what the topic was but it gave us all quite a headache. I thought to myself, ‘Who could be so lucky as I am, that I have a scholarly cousin, who is not very far, and is my dearest friend?’ The resounding answer was, ‘Nobody!’ Now it so happened that only the headmaster had a house within the school grounds and his wife loved flowers; she had planted lots of them. So one day, when I planned to visit Jean, I plucked a few very pink blooms from the patch at the gate to that house. I looked at them as I walked along the road and thought to myself that the pink was so deep it was almost red. You probably know the proper name for that colour which I still do not know to this day. I had not a thought about how I must have looked in school uniform, and carrying this bunch of flowers.
When I knocked on Jean’s door, my hands were hidden behind my back. She opened, took one look at me and knew at once that I was up to something. Neither of us had any idea at that particular moment how far that ‘something’ was going to take us. I walked in at the door and turned my body towards her, keeping my hands hidden from her. As soon as she had closed the door, I flashed out the flowers and handed them to her. Her scream of pleasure must have been heard as far as the student block.
I had merely wanted to please my dear friend who just happened to be my cousin, but she grabbed me in a bear hug, swung me round in sheer ecstasy. Then she kissed me right on the cheek. Both of us were shocked. We stared at each other as if accusing the other of illegal bahis having crossed boundaries. But then she looked again at her flowers.
“Bob, where did you get such lovely flowers?” And her arm went around me once again.
“My secret!” I answered. After a nice cup of tea, which even in those days she flavoured with some spices, I lay my problem before her. I had never before stood before a crowd of people, much less tell them anything. The very idea filled my stomach with butterflies. But as the hour crept along I had a clearer idea of what to say. But how I was going to do it remained a source of great worry. As I left she hugged me again and kissed me. “I know you will be very good!”
I walked on a cushion of air on my way home. Not just because I had material for the debate, either! The feel of a woman’s body against mine was new, but how delicious! I wanted to run back for another hug. That night my cousin featured in my sexual fantasies for the first time ever! I had used other women, including my teachers, girls I met in the bus, or even maids in my private movies before this. I had mastered how to give myself thunderous orgasms with those movies playing in my head.
Somehow, my cousin brought me to a much greater height of pleasure than anyone else. I masturbated three or four times that night, so delicious was my cousin Jean. We had become so easy with each other over the years that I felt no reluctance to tell her of my experience with her in my mind when I next met her.
“How did the debate go?” she wanted to know.
“Oh, it was fabulous! Our house won the debate, the games and the academic points for the term. So we came out as Cock House. It was due to you that we won the debate.” Then I told her what happened to me the night after getting her advice, and many more nights after that.
She looked at me with mild shock; but behind it lay something like admiration. “Thank you for being brave enough to tell me that. You could have kept it a secret and I would never have guessed.” She then hugged me and lay her head on my shoulder. This made me feel so mature and responsible that I put my hands around her more tightly than ever I had done. We sat like that on her sofa for long moments, enjoying the closeness. From the blues, a thought crashed into my brain that I could feel her boobs against my arm. I moved our bodies so that I could rub them more.
“That is the most delicious hug I have ever enjoyed!” she murmured. You can have no idea how good that sounded. I had offered my cousin, seven years my senior, something that nobody had ever given her! Wow!
When we moved our mouths towards each other’s the kiss on the lips came very naturally. Both of us enjoyed the new feeling so much that we spoke to one another by tightening our embrace and moving our bodies more. I was astonished when I discovered I had a hard-on for my cousin. She, on her part, was breathing more heavily and moaning softly. It was with the greatest reluctance that we broke the hug. Both of us were panting.
That night the feelings coursing through my body during the hug were inspiration for fresh fantasies. I saw myself nursing on my cousin’s large boobs and making her feel so good that her little cousin was treating her like a grown woman. I shot fat wads of come onto my sheets from these visions. If she felt the same hunger of seeing me again as I was, she was going through major upheavals on her bed. I even tried to imagine what she did to herself to relieve the heat between her legs. When those words passed through my mind they caused another tectonic explosion from my loins.
No great imagination is required to know that the next time I was in my cousin’s cubicle it was explosive. She grabbed me at the same moment that I did. We went at it hammer and tongs until I pulled her boobs from the confines of her blouse. I was to discover that she did not keep her bra on when she came back from work. So I had unfettered access to them on opening the buttons. I sucked her nipples while she held my head as if she were suckling an infant. Meanwhile my hands were moving clumsily over her back. When I think back now, she must also have been quite illegal bahis siteleri the novice at these matters, but we managed to excite each other to the point that I was fondling her thighs. She moaned quite loudly, enough to alarm me.
She parted them enabling me to explore further inland. I felt her hand struggling with my zipper. She must not have handled another one before for she did not seem to know quite what to do with it. I took one hand down there to help her and we had my school trousers down to my knees. She held my cock, but so tightly that I had to tell her to loosen her hold as it was causing some pain. After that she managed to stroke me very well until I was almost pouring out my nectar. I on my part, had overcome her panties and drawn them lower to leave her cunt open to my fingers. The wetness therein excited me more than I knew was possible. Again I escaped coming by only a whisker.
Then we both knew somehow that cunt and cock would do the most good with each other, than in our clumsy hands. I arranged her on her sofa and fumbled to get my cock in the right position. As soon as I felt the warm wetness of my very own cousin, I could not hold it in any more. I poured my offering right there on her outer lips before she had got anywhere. Neither of us knew at that point we had fallen short, but the sight of our genitals out in the open, and next to one another was such a wonderful sight that we fell into each other’s arms again. We lay glued to one another until my semen started drying on her thighs. We parted that first time after a most marvelous experience that would keep the other in our minds throughout the weekend.
By the end of my sixth year, I was madly in love with Jean. She was the first woman I had reached such a point with. We fucked nearly every week, so it remains a wonder to this day that I did not get her pregnant.
When we visited her parents’ home her father was not usually at home, as he was nearly always with the President. It was my aunt who was home, although she would be busy looking after their myriad businesses, particularly the grocery shop which she tended herself.
One Saturday, instead of Jean leading me by some time, we arrived together. Aunty asked where we had come from, and we almost gave ourselves away.
“From home,” blurted Jean. But almost immediately realised that that would mean we had been in her house, which in fact we had been since the previous evening. Her mother, or mine, or indeed any of our parents were not to discover these trysts of ours at her house. She amended, “His home, and I from my house.”
But that hesitation seemed to cause my aunt to think something was not quite right. She could not bring it out without delving into taboo subjects, so we were left with the suspicion that she had questions about our friendship; maybe it was not all it seemed.
Jean swore that after school I would not tarmac looking for work; I must get a job as quickly as she did. Since the results of my examinations were to come out in March, and university entrance was in September, I would have nothing to do until that time. She pleaded with her father to speak with his friends to find me a job in the meantime. What my aunt thought about that is difficult for me to say here.
At any rate that was how I found myself facing the interview panel at the Central Bank. The lead interviewer only asked me how come I was so thin, if I had so many sisters. The following week I received word that I had been accepted as a temporary. Now it was possible for me to earn some money of my own. I had dreams of seeing Jean as my wife, driving a nice German car. She looked, in my daydreams, so beautiful, and smelt so nice! Our romance survived my stint at CBK, my university studies, until I was taken on as a management trainee at Commercial Bank of Africa. Jean had had a word with the Personnel Officer, G. K Gecau. At the interview I was asked if I knew anybody who worked at CBA. I could answer truthfully that I did not, as Gecau was not my acquaintance.
By this time Jean’s experience had allowed her to take a better job with UNICEF, domiciled in the canlı bahis siteleri UNEP headquarters in Gigiri. On Fridays their offices closed at 2pm and she was usually home before very long. I went straight from work to her place where we had a very late lunch together, then spent the rest of the afternoon and evening in amorous games. I usually got home quite late in the evening.
Our parents still had not realised the extent of our love, beyond the teaching that they had got from Grandfather about always loving each other. They thought that Jean and I were merely practising what they had drilled into us as children. My and Jean’s mother had four sisters and one brother, my uncle the Hon. Patterson Regeru. It was well known that his daughter Margaret was very friendly with Ben, the son of their youngest sister. They went out with friends of theirs to drinking spots and the group were rumoured to be into drugs ever since the two cousins had been in high school.
There were friendships between others of our cousins but I am unable to put down on these pages whether love had blossomed in any of them.
“I had a dream,” Jean said to me one evening.
“About?” I asked absently unaware the bombshell that was about to drop.
“We, the family, aunts, uncles and cousins were at a wedding reception at Nairobi School.”
“Two of our cousins.”
My head jerked up suddenly. I had been dreading that if something like that happened, our own union would be threatened, as the family elders could not countenance two incestuous unions; one would be one too many, in fact.
“Who?” If there was anyone more likely than ourselves, it would be Ben and Margaret.
“Ben.” My blood froze.
She looked at me fixedly. “What has scared you like that?”
“Don’t you realise what a threat a wedding like that would be in the real world? I don’t know how it could be allowed, but that would be the end of us.”
We sat there, she in my lap and my arms around her, feeling as if the end of the world had come for us. Neither of us could imagine a life without the other. It was only with great effort that we reminded ourselves it was only a dream.
I slowly, languidly stroked her generous boobs. She moaned and kissed me with a vigour that seemed to want to obliterate that dream from our universe. We heated up faster than we could remember doing. Presently I was turning her to sit astride me. I held my cock and strummed the lips of her very eager cunt a few times before slotting the helmet between them, dipping into her wetness, and rubbing her slit. I touched her large clit which I rapidly frigged until she squealed like an animal at the slaughter.
Without warning I shoved the cock as deep as it would go in one stroke. Then I became quite still, feeling her cunt muscles squeezing me, a harbinger of the spasms that would milk me after she had come. Holding her by the hips I moved her so that my cock entered and reversed out, then in it went and out again. She caught onto those movements and met me on the inward stroke. Her arms were tight about my body, but when she neared her climax they almost strangled me. Then she erupted like some dormant volcano. “Fill me with your fertile seed, my love!” she yelled. “Oooh, fuck, yes, like that…!”
These words incited me now to empty my pail into her. If I were trying to impregnate my delicious cousin, the lucky sperm would have to be very assertive while swimming upwards. We stilled our movements, while I responded to her milking action with a twitching of my cock in her channel.
It took me a whole week to shake off the horror of Jean’s dream. At times it would come back to me as if had truly happened and it would take a mighty effort to remind myself it had only been a dream. I wracked my brains to find a way of jumping over the family consent barrier, which I knew would be very hard to surmount. I went off in pursuit of a method and each time I returned to the same fork. There were only two alternatives: either announce that she was pregnant, which would result in a whiplash of reaction, with Bible verses thrown at us. I foresaw that very clearly. The other option was to relocate to another country altogether, start a new life away from anyone who had known us. Could we turn our back on parents and siblings? What about friends we have made in school and workplace? Neither option looked at all easy.
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