Cousins at Play: Part 7: Bumps in the Road Sex Story

#Incest #PreTeen

By Mr Rodd

As they become adults, is it time for the cousins to leave their childhood games behind?

It was the first day of the summer term and the back seats of the school bus had, as usual, been commandeered by the biggest and coolest boys in school. They were full of tales of their sexual exploits with their “gagging for it” girlfriends, during the previous two weeks holidays.

If their stories were true, they were being ungallant, to say the least, but most of the other boys knew that they were no more than stories, empty boasts and utter BS.

What none of them knew, however, was that the quiet, bookish lad sitting in the middle of the bus had enjoyed the most exciting, sex charged weekend of his entire life.

His generous girlfriend had allowed him carnal delights beyond his wildest expectations

His name was David and he knew he was the luckiest boy on the bus.

David didn’t need to boast.- no one would have believed him anyway. He simply luxuriated in the private memory of his special time with his cousin/girlfriend, Sharon.

He still felt elated, invulnerable and ten feet tall, he was “walking on air” with a new level of confidence and energy that saw him achieve new heights in the classroom, on the football field and even amongst his friends. He was suddenly whittier, funnier and smarter than he had ever been before.

Life was good and there was no reason to expect that to change.


So, he was full of positivity when he arrived at Sharon’s house and strode up the stairs, towards her room. He trod quietly, as was their custom, but if she heard him coming it wouldn’t be a problem. They were going to have an amazing time together anyway.

He pushed her bedroom door open. She hadn’t heard him coming and was sitting at her desk, with her back to him. He would usually steal up to her and spank her on the bum, but that was out reach. So he improvised, reaching in front of her and grabbing two handfuls of beautiful, bouncy, boy pleasing boobs.

“Gotcha”, he whispered, trying not a alert their parents, who were chatting downstairs.

“No, David, get off!”

He was familiar with the game and leant in, kissing her on the neck.

“No, I’m serious….. Marmalade!”

It was their safe word.
She had never used it before.
David was shocked and pulled away instantly.

“Oh, erm, sorry. What’s the matter are you okay.”

“I just can’t play today, okay.”

“We can be quiet, they won’t hear us downstairs.”

“No, I just can’t play today. Leave me alone.”

“Do you want me to go away.”

“No you can stay, just give me a minute.”

David sat on Sharon’s bed and looked around her room. It had a mix of childhood toys, dolls and bears alongside the music cassettes and pop star posters that heralded the approach of her teenage years.

After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, Sharon spoke up.

“I’m sorry to shout at you.
It isn’t your fault.
There’s something that happens to a woman every month that means we don’t want to do “that” and it’s happening to me today.
It’s not very nice and we don’t like to talk about it, so please don’t ask me.”

“I understand,” (I really didn’t!), “Is there anything you’d like me to do?”

“Yes. Could you help me with my maths homework. It really hard.”

I was over a year older than my cousin, so I was able to unravel her maths problems with little difficulty. However, I has no idea how to solve the puzzle of the mystery syndrome that had interrupted our fun and games.

I knew I couldn’t ask my mum to, because women “didn’t like to talk about it”. If I asked Dad he’d ask me want to know why and I couldn’t risk letting him find our about Sharon and me. I was stuck.

I decided to ask Mr Tyrell to help

Mr Tyrell taught us English. He wasn’t too strict and didn’t try to be “cool”. He was just a regular teacher, except that he ran the School Bookshop, at lunchtime.
It was full of adventure stories, comedies, sports albums and anything else, he thought would encourage boys to read. My friends and I had only ever visited it to shelter from the rain and cold of the schoolyard, but today I was there to ask for a book that wasn’t on the shelves.

Every year, without any fuss or fanfare, Mr Tyrell would tell the younger year groups that he stocked a book called “Growing up for boys,” which would answer any questions we might have about sex or relationships.
If ever we wanted a copy to help guide us into adulthood, he would get it too us with total secrecy.

I handed over my £2.50. The shop was busy, so Mr Tyrell asked me to hang back after my English lesson, that afternoon.
I did and he handed me a well stuffed, brown paper envelope. That evening I had my answer (and much more information too).
It was a shame our Biology teacher hadn’t told us that when he explained how babies were made

I next saw Sharon when she had one of her dance lessons and was staying over at my house.

We had a few minutes to chat, before she went to class.
“I’m sorry, about last time. You do know it wasn’t your fault don’t you? she asked.

“Yes, I’ve read about it and it sounds horrible. I’m glad boys don’t have to deal with anything like that.”

“Well, all women do, so I’ll just have to deal with it. I don’t want to have a repeat of last time though, so l’m going to hang a teddy on my door whenever it happens. That way you’ll have a warning.”

“Good idea.” I kissed her thank you.

“There won’t be any teddies on the door tonight though. I have something special planned for you.”


Once she returned from her class, Sharon and I rushed our suppers, and promptly asked if it was okay for her to show me her dance steps before bed. Naturally our parents agreed and moments later I was slapping my cousin’s wiggling bum as she giggled her way up the stairs.

“Now, I said I had a treat for you.
Do you know a dance called the can can can?”
I shook my head.
“Well the big girls are learning it and I know you’ll love it, so wait on your room, while I get ready.”

I happily did as I was told and sat on my bed with nervous excitement, waiting for my treat.

The door burst open, “Ooooooheyyy!”, Sharon squealed as she skipped and cartwheeled in.

Then she turned to dance in front of me. Energetically lifting her knees high and kicking her legs up even higher, whilst singing the famous French cabaret tune.

She wore a red ribbon in her hair, a matching elasticated sleeveless boobtube with two thin shoulder straps hugging her curves and a flared black, knee length skirt covering her black stockings.

However the skirt was barely coving her stockings because Sharon was lifting its front shamelessly as she kicked her feet up, in time to the music.

I sat back. My dick hardening at my girlfriend’s lewd display. The skirt was getting higher and I was in no doubt that I would soon be able to see her knickers. Unless… Unless, of course, she wasn’t wearing any!

As if the teasing skirt wasn’t arousing enough, Sharon’s tits were performing a fascinating jig of their own. Bouncing up and down within her figure hugging top with a freedom that meant she had to be braless.

Her stamina was amazing and Sharon never flagged as she continued her dance, pushing the straps from her shoulders with a grin. The tight top still clung to her body but it was edging down as her bubbling boobs jogged up. I couldn’t look away, tantalise by the prospect of her tits tumbling out for my pleasure. It could only be a matter of time.

But Sharon had other plans. She quickly, turned her back, bent over, shook her arse and flipped up her skirt confirming that she was, indeed, without panties!

She turned another cartwheel, giving a fleeting glimpse of her fanny. And jumped up, stretched and finally released her perky tits from their bonds.

She was still dancing. Tits bouncing freely and skirt raised high enough to reveal all. Without breaking step, Sharon reached back, unbuttoned and unzipped, allowing the garment to fall to the floor.

Another cartwheel and the splits completed the performance. I applauded warmly.
I had never seen her dance so well and had never been so aroused. My dick as hard Blackpool rock.

“Did… you… like…. that…?” she panted.

“Yeeeesssss! Of course. Amazing.”

“And… very… naughty… eh… Sir?”

She climbed over my knee and raised her butt for me to spank.

It was my final and most unexpected treat. I stroked the bared flesh excitedly.
A strange twinge in my groin.
A new tightening in my balls.
I was wetting myself, I out of control, I was soaking my pants.

I pushed my girlfriend to the floor.
“Go, go, you have to go!”
She ran to her room.

I ran to the toilet. Shocked at what at happened, frightened and embarrassed to have lost control. I reeled off yards of toilet paper trying to clear the thick sticky fluid from my body and clean up up my pants and trousers that smelled like a swimming pool.

Returning to my bedroom I balled up the pants and buried them at the back of the wardrobe. Sharon’s skirt was still on the floor so I hid that under my bed sheets, before retiring for the night, eventually calming down enough to fall asleep, dreaming of Sharon’s wonderful dance.


She woke me early next morning. “Are you okay? What happened?”

“I’m fine thanks. I’ll explain after breakfast.” It wasn’t a morning person and it was too early to chat. ” You should take this, though.” I retreived her skirt. “Great dance by the way.”

During breakfast, Dad told us he was going out to get a his car’s brakes and tyres checked – he thought they’d need repairs. Mum, meanwhile was going shopping. We were welcome to go with either of them but, as it was raining, they thought Sharon and I would rather stay home until her parents came to collect her at lunchtime.

They were correct and it wasn’t long before I was explaining that Sharon’s dance at been so sexy that it had made special stuff squirt out of my dick.

“So that was your “sperm” then?”

” Yes and it can make babies, so l didn’t want you to be anywhere near it.”

“I think it has to be in my vagina to do that doesn’t it?”

It was obvious that little Sharon had learnt about the “birds and bees”.

“I think so.”

“Do you think you could, er, do it again?”

“Do what?”

“Squirt your stuff. I’d like to watch.” she said shyly.

She had never asked to see my dick before and I’d never shown it off. In fact I’d always kept it quite private, perhaps in a childish way. But, as Sharon had shown me so much of her beautiful body, so often, year after year, I could hardly refuse.

“Ok, I’ll try. You dance for me like last night andwe’ll see if it happens again.

So, we went back to my room, I sat on my bed – pants and trousers around my knees and toilet roll at the ready. Sharon appeared in her saucy outfit and repeated her performance.

Squeals, cartwheels, fanny flashes, titty teases, bum wiggles, top slipping, boobs bared, skirt dropped, full frontal, into the splits, over my knee, arse up, “spank me Sir”… She did it all, with even more aplomb than the night before. I loved it. My dick loved it. But it didn’t squirt.

Sharon was disappointed, “Would it be alright if I touched it instead.”

“I suppose so, just for a minute. But not down there” I pointed at my balls, “you might hurt me.”

She didn’t know how to massage a cock so she touched it as though she was plucking a chicken. Her palm above the head and her fingers stroking up and down the shaft.

Nevertheless the feeling of her inexperienced hand on my inexperienced dick quickly became too much to bare. It was the trigger and I went off like a machine gun.
Sharon couldn’t react in time so the first shots went right up her arm. The second volley striped her breast, the third got her belly and the remainder hit mine.

” Ooooh. Did I do that? Is there always that much? It feels funny.:

I started clean up, embarrassed but my giggly cousin was curious. She took some on her fingers, checking out the texture and then tasting some. I couldn’t imagine why.
” Not bad.” she said.
Girls are weird some times.


I was climbing the stairs to Sharon’s bedroom hoping not be rejected, as I had been a couple of months ago. I checked the door. No teddies – the coast was clear. I went in. She was on her knees, playing with her dolls house and wearing what looked like underwear – white, nylon and almost see through and shaped like a skirt. I flipped it up revealing pink panties and slapped her on the bum.

“Oh, hi David.” She sounded a little bored. “Do you want to play?:

I was hoping we were going lto play something more grown up than her dolls house could offer but of course I agreed.

“What are you wearing?” I asked.

“It’s one of Mum’s old undie skirts. I got it out of my dressing up box. I used to pretend to be a fairy.” She was being very “matter of fact” about it all, “Now I wear it sometimes because it’s more comfortable than a bra. Not that it’s any of your business.”

She wore it pulled up to her armpits, but it tended to slip down as leant over her to play with her dolls. I coughed and motioned when it dropped down below her boobs.
Shd pulled it up twice but the third time she looked irritated, “What’s the point? You’ve seen it all before. Haven’t you?”
She continued to play, with her tits hanging free.

“Do you want to go out.” she suddenly asked. ” Mum!” she shouted down the stairs, before I could reply, “is it okay if me and David go to feed the ducks.”

There was a quick conversation between the grown ups.
” Okay, David will have to be back by two , or he’ll miss the bus. There’s bread in the kitchen.”

Sharon pulled a summer dress over her head, took off the underskirt and led the way down the stairs without a word.

I held her hand as we walked to the park, but there was little chat. Something was wrong.

I sat on a park bench and motioned for Sharon to join me.

“What’s the matter?”

She took a deep breath. “Promise not be angry. I think we need to stop.”

I didn’t know what to say. Fortunately my (?) girlfriend had planned a speech.

She took hold of both my hands and looked me in the eye.

“I’ve loved everything we’ve done and I will always love you. You’ve done nothing wrong and I don’t have any regrets, but we are getting older now and I won’t be able to give you what you need, so I think it’s best if we split up.”

“What do you mean. I couldn’t ask for a better girlfriend.”

“Remember that time in the tent with the blindfold and all that?”

“Yes, I don’t think I’ll ever forget it…”

“You asked if there was anything I didn’t want you to do…”

“And you said you didn’t want me to put my “anything” in your “anywhere””….

“Yes, and I still don’t, I don’t think I will until I’m sixteen and I can’t expect you to wait that long. I know boys need it and I don’t want to be a tease.” She was trying be brave but I could tell she was upset.
I didn’t want us to split up either.

“Sharon, you have never been a tease. A tease is a girl that lets a boy think he’s going to get something and then doesn’t let him have it. What you’re doing is the opposite. You’re telling me that sex is ” off the table” until you’re sixteen. I know where I stand and that’s fine, I’ll wait. To be honest, I wasn’t ready to have sex that night in the tent either and I don’t know when I will be ready for the responsibility that goes with it.”

“But everyone else is doing it?”

“Nah, everyone else is talking about it, pretending they’ve done it, but they’re just trying to sound big.
If I asked all the boys in my class to tell me, honestly, how many times they’d seen a girl’s boobs, most would say never. The rest would know to the exact number and would remember every instance in great detail because it would be such a rare event.
As for seeing a vagina, touching a naked girl or spending a night with one, I doubt any other boy in my class has ever done that. Most won’t have even kissed a girl.
I know sex isn’t a race but if it was, we certainly wouldn’t be getting left behind.”

“Really? Do you think they’re just making it up?”

” Definitely.”

“But… I’ve let you do all those things. So, does that make me a… slut?

I kissed her, “Of course not darling. How many boys have you ever kissed?”

“Just you.”

“And how many boys have you let touch you?”

“Just you, of course.”

“How many boyfriends, have you had in your whole life?”

“Just you, silly.”

“Well if you were a slut, you would be every boys friend. You’d have string of ex-boyfriends and your name would be on the wall of every Gents toilet in town. It isn’t, because you’re not a slut. You’re just a girl that has known her boyfriend all her life and they love and trust eachother so very much that they do special things together.”

“Yes, but David, don’t you understand. If we wait until I’m 16, you’ll have to wait until you’re 17. That’s not fair.”

“I love you and I love what we do. I’m not going to ask you for anything you’re not ready for. I’m very lucky to have you and I’m prepared to wait.
Unless you want to dump me!!”

“Oh no, of course not.” She gave me a big kiss. We hugged and hugged.

My girlfriend looked furtively around the park. “I’m sorry I doubted you, Sir. That was very rude and it was very silly of me to say we should split up. I think I should let you teach me a lesson don’t you?”
She slipped over my knee, to receive her correction.

The loose light summer dress was easy to flick up and I gave her six playful spanks across her pretty pink panties.

She looked up at me, cheekily.
“I think I was naughtier than that, Sir.”

I had the best [email protected] After checking we weren’t being watched, I peeled her panties out of the way and gave her naughty little bum six on the bare.

We went on to explore the park, hand in hand like young lovers pausing only to snog eachother or feed the ducks.

We dawdled towards Sharon’s house before realising it was 1.55pm. We had promised to be back by 2. We ran the rest of the way, Sharon’s bra free boobs bouncing and jiggling, uncontrollably in the light dress. I’m sure I saw her mum roll her eyes at her as we returned..

To be continued…

By Mr Rodd
#Incest #PreTeen

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