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Thank you for your consideration. -------------------------------------------------------- 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 *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-* 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. *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-* Kristen's collection - Directory 35