Family picnics and parties were agonizing for me when I was growing up. They weren’t made for kids. I wasn’t included in the adult conversations and the only kids around my age were two cousins, girls. There was Uncle Harry, my dad’s brother, Harry’s wife, Amelia, and his step-daughter, Mila. The rest of the family included my mom’s sister, Bee Bee, her husband, Garth, and their adopted daughter, Cicely.
So each November, we assembled for Thanksgiving dinner at one of our homes for turkey and pumpkin pie. The six adults sat at one table. The three of us kids sat at another. It’s easy to understand why I felt out of place.
After dinner, the girls played with their dolls and giggled. I mostly stayed to myself with my Galaxy tablet playing video games or took refuge in the TV room to watch football along with dad and my uncles. In a word, it was boring.
In time, things began to change. I got taller; my voice couldn’t decide if it was a soprano or a baritone; peach fuzz had turned to an acceptable beard; and the girls looked, well, more captivating.
On a warm Memorial Day, our families gathered at Cicely’s home for a cookout. Mila had just turned seventeen. Cicely was the taller of the two, but younger by several months. I was nearing the end of my sophomore year in high school. By that time, things had become decidedly more interesting. The girls no longer played with dolls, but still giggled and whispered secrets to each other whenever I was nearby. Maybe I shouldn’t have taken it personally, but it seemed they were talking about me. Truthfully, I was both curious and annoyed while being around them.
During that Memorial Day afternoon, the two were sitting on the patio when I walked by. “Hey Cousin, who’s your girlfriend?” Mila asked sarcastically. They knew I had no girlfriend. In fact, they suspected that I was petrified of girls.
“I don’t have one.”
“Why not? Are you gay?” Cicely said with a smirk.
I turned and looked hard at them saying, “Excuse me?”
“Well, maybe you are gay,” Cicely added. “You don’t talk to girls.”
“Of course I talk to girls. Why do you think that?”
Mila said, “You never talk to us.”
“Why should I talk with you? I mean, if you were more friendly, maybe I would.”
They stopped talking for a moment and looked at each other. Then Mila said, “Maybe it’s you that isn’t so friendly. Would you be nice and bring us a Coke.”
“Okay. I can be nice,” and I walked deliberately to the cooler to fetch two drinks.
When I returned handing them Cokes, they had slipped off their summer dresses revealing bikinis that they wore underneath. “Do you like our bikinis, Cousin?”
A little embarrassed, I said, “Yeah, sure.”
Mila asked, “Why don’t you put on your swim trunks, and we’ll all jump in the pool?”
“Fine,” and nonchalantly I headed to the bathroom to change.
The pool was more about water fights, splashing and dunking each other than flippers and goggles. For the first time, I actually enjoyed being with Cicely and Mila. We all were laughing and having a great time when one of them reached behind me and pulled down my trunks. As fast as a lightning strike, I yanked them up and jumped out of the pool staring at them as they looked at each other as if nothing had happened.
After the burgers were served and the heat of the day had turned to dusk, Mila came to me and said, Cicely and I want to show you something.
“What is it?” I asked.
“We’ll show you later. Meet us in the woods when it gets dark.” I’m thinking this was going to be another girlish prank, and I debated about going along with it. But like a cat curious about what’s in a shoebox, I was anxious to know what they had in store for me.
It must have been nine thirty when the sun had set. In the distance, I could see someone waving a flashlight as if it were the Lorelei bewitching sailors on the Rhine.
I took my time. Cici asked, “What took you so long?” They giggled. I didn’t answer, then Mila got serious. Hey Cousin, have you ever seen a girl?”
“Sure, lots of ’em. I’m looking at one now.”
“No, I mean her tits?”
“Of course,” I lied.
“We don’t mean on your computer, stupid,” Cicely said. “Here’s the thing, we want to show you ours. If we show you our tits, will you be honest and tell us your opinion.
I blushed with embarrassment and said, “Sure, if you want.”
“There’s one more thing, Cousin,” Cicely said. “You have to show us your thingy. You know, your dick.”
So that was the deal, the tradeoff. My cock for their tits.
“Okay, but you first,” I demanded.
Mila offered a compromise. “First Cicely, then you, then me.” So, that’s how it happened.
When Cicely took off her bikini top, it was difficult to make out her form in the dark. “Hey, it’s too dark. Turn the flashlight on her tits,” I growled.
The girl had perky tight tits with hard nipples that stuck out like the eraser end of a pencil. After a brief moment or two of spinning around to show off all of her curves, she replaced her bikini top saying, “Okay, cousin, now it’s your turn,”.
I objected. They said that was the deal. I objected again. Then Cicely came over and pulled down my swim trunks with Mila using the flashlight like a spotlight on my privates.
“Keep ’em down, Cousin,” Mila urged as she unfastened her top letting it drop to the ground.
At that point, things turned rather murky. Who did what and when was unclear. I remember that Mila’s tits were larger, fuller than her cousin’s and more mature. They had an upward tilt to them that quickly got my attention.
What happened next couldn’t have been more unexpected when Mila went to her knees to take a closer look at my growing erection.
“Cici,” she said, we have a winner here,” and she took hold of my now fully erect cock.
Cicely followed and began lightly massaging my balls as my stiff cock found it’s way into Mila’s mouth.
All I remember is both girls took turns at sucking and stroking. With whom I ejaculated is still a mystery. What I do remember is that, for me, it was like the shot heard around the world.
I didn’t see Cicely and Mila again until long after college. Uncle Harry had been transferred by his company to a city across the country. Bee Bee and Garth had some kind of falling out with my parents over a meaningless issue, so we no longer had holiday parties together. It seemed ironic that just as my two cousins and I had found a common interest, we no longer could enjoy our friendship.
College was a blur. I barely finished with a degree in finance and had squandered a great deal of those years with a number of sorority girls. Don’t misunderstand, they weren’t all from the same sorority. I didn’t discriminate. If she wore a bra, I was available to help her undo the strap.
Anyway, Uncle Harry helped me find a job on Wall Street. I worked for a large brokerage firm at an entry level position and quickly moved on as an assistant analyst. I loved the job and their parties even more.
There was a huge convention in Las Vegas in my second year at the firm. My boss asked if I’d like to join him, mostly helping him with the day to day details. I needed to keep track of his schedule and take notes during important meetings. Of course I said yes.
The first two days were hectic. I ran around as my boss’ “gofer” trying to keep things in order. We had welcoming dinner with the other firms on the second night where I met colleagues with my same job description. For the first forty-eight hours, it was slave labor that we all basically loved.
After dinner, three of us sat at the bar having a few drinks and a guy I had just met, Bob Sterling, suggested we check out Larry Flynt’s Hustler Club. He didn’t have to ask twice. All of us badly needed down time. An overpriced taxi took us to the front door of the strip club where we were greeted by a rather muscular fellow asking for our ID’s. Of course it was mandatory. Even the white hair customers needed photo ID’s. Inside, the club reminded me of an overly-decorated country club but much larger with a stage. A young scantily dressed woman led us to our table saying the talent wouldn’t start for a half hour. She took our drink orders as we waited.
The show opened with a dozen fully dressed women parading together in front of the stage introducing themselves. It reminded me of the Miss America pageant. Their names were stage names, of course, like Bo and Cuny, Memphis and Puffy. I don’t remember all of their names but from where we were sitting, they all looked fabulous.
All but one was left on stage. It was Memphis who began the show.
I had never been to a strip club before but her act was pretty much what I had expected. The gown she wore was like a tear-away football jersey. Once down to the essentials, she danced around a pole using it in a simulated fuck scene. The obligatory loss of her top produced an applause by the mostly male crowd, but her g-string never was more than a tease. A few ten dollar bills floating onto the stage encouraging her to spread her legs but that was all. To be honest, I was disappointed.
Bo was next and a little better. She at least turned, dropped her thong showing her ass, turned back to the audience for a quick pussy glance, then pranced off stage. I began thinking these two strippers were the warm-ups for later performers.
We had been there probably a couple of hours when the main attraction came on stage.
For me, there was something more. Storm looked vaguely familiar. I was seated several rows back, but I really couldn’t be sure I knew her. So to get closer, I asked the waitress if Storm did lap dances and if so, to let me know when she was available.
The waitress said she would check, and came back telling me to go to the VIP room at one thirty. It was only one at the time, a half hour of anticipation to wait.
Finally it was my turn and the moment I walked in the room, I recognized her. She apparently didn’t have a clue who I was.
She wore little to nothing while she danced to sensual jazz filling the room. Her tits swung back and forth like fruit swaying in the breeze. Her erotic expressions were timed with the music until she sat facing me pulling my face between her tits.
This went on for awhile until she seductively removed her last piece of clothing. I now could appreciate all of her including a fully shaved and puffy pussy. She helped me unzip and pulled out my engorged cock, sitting on it and using it to massage her clit.
She timed it perfectly. As soon as I was at the point of no return, she had her mouth around my pulsing shaft taking every drop of cum I delivered deep in her throat.
“How was that, Cousin?” she asked. “I usually don’t give blowjobs but hey, you are family,” and she gave me a wicked smile.
Incredible! She did recognize me. “Mila,” I said, “I didn’t think you would know me.”
“Well, I wasn’t sure at first, but when I saw your dick with that little birth mark on the end, I knew it was you. It was something we noticed about you that night in the woods.”
“So you remember that?”
“Of course. I was a little bit inexperienced at the time.”
“Well, it sure was memorable to me. It was my first blowjob.”
“Yes, we saw how nervious you were. We thought you were going to faint.”
I needed to change the subject and asked, “Look, can we meet for lunch or dinner tomorrow?”
“I’d love to, Cousin, but I really can’t say until the last minute. Give me your cell number and I’ll give you a call. By the way, what’s your real name? We only remember you as, Cousin.”
“I’m Dalton.
“Okay Cousin Dalton, I’ll give you a call when I know what’s goin’ on this afternoon.”
She was reminding me it was already day three of our trip to Vegas, and I had to get up in a few hours.
The others had already left the strip club when I looked for them after being with Mila. Another taxi ride had me back to the hotel after 3:00 AM. Morning came early. Breakfast was at seven, and the day’s activities began at eight. At five thirty, Mila called. She could meet me for dinner at eight that evening. We would have only had a short time together because Storm said she needed to be at work by ten.
We talked a little about old times, then I asked, “Please don’t take this as being judgmental, but how did you become a stripper? I mean you are beautiful. Your body is fantastic, and you are very good at it.”
“Oh, she answered, “it’s a long story. I was in college and needed money. My boyfriend, at the time, said he had a friend that organized parties for the fraternities. They sometimes wanted a girl as entertainment.
“My boyfriend said it was only for an hour of work and they paid well. I thought about it for a couple of weeks before agreeing to try it. The first time was a little nerve wracking with the boys shouting at me and saying really randy stuff, but I really didn’t mind. I liked showing off my body and loved the attention. After that, I did more parties and got pretty good at doing what they wanted.
“Of course, a few of them masturbated while I was on stage. Funny, to me that was like applause. After the show, they wanted blowjobs or asked me to have sex with them. I never did that except with my boyfriend, although,” and she hesitated looking down at her fingernails, “I stripped for my boyfriend at his twenty-first birthday party. Things got kind of wild and out of hand when I did a gangbang. I really thought it would just be him, but it wasn’t.
“I left college my junior year and was at a loss for something to do. So, I auditioned at a local strip club near home. I was hired and stripped there for year.
“One of my jobs was to sit with the customers, encouraging them to buy watered down drinks. I kept them company as long as they kept drinking and paying. One guy said I was too good to be stuck in a joint like that. He said the real money was in Vegas. So, here I am.”
I wondered, “Did you start here with Larry Flint?”
“No, I started down the strip at a smaller place. One of Flynt’s associates was looking for new girls and saw me there. They pay more at Larry’s club.”
“So you are on a first name basis with him.”
“Not really but all the girls call him Larry.”
“Have they asked you to be featured in Hustler magazine?”
“Of course,” she answering as if it was a dumb question. “Almost all the girls have been in it once or twice.”
“What was it like?”
“Really really dreadful. I mean, the pictures make it look like the girls love having sex. In reality, its a slow tedious repetitive job. I do it for the money, of course, but it also got me in a couple of videos.”
“Porn videos?” I asked.
“No, Shakespearian plays,” Mila answered sarcastically. “Honestly, there are some scenes I really don’t like doing, like anal and DP, but that’s where the money is.”
She picked up her purse and said, “Look, it’s been really nice seeing you again, Cousin, but I need to get back to the club. We are entertaining for a big private party in the penthouse tonight. I need to get ready.”
“One more thing, Mila. Have you talked to Cicely?”
“No, in fact, I don’t really know where she is. The last I heard, Cicely had moved to New Jersey or some other state out East. Ask your parents. Maybe they know.”
And she was off to work.
I found myself wandering down the Strip, throwing a few bucks at slot machines and marveling how times had changed over the years. It was past eleven and things were really alive on the Strip. I was feeling a little lonely while toying with a second martini when my cell rang.
“Hey, Cousin, it’s Mila. I’m at the club and one of the girls asked about you. She saw you leaving the VIP room with me last night. You want a date? Her name is Vicky, and you definitely would like her. She’s easy on the eyes.”
“Okay, when?”
“Come to the club now and tell the bouncer you are meeting Princess Di. It’s code for taking you back stage. When he brings you there. Ask for Puffy.”
I met Puffy a little past midnight. She had finished her show, and was ready for a good time. She was a looker, just as Mila had said, and we connected from the start.
“Please call me, Vicky. Okay Cousin?”
“Fine, if you call me Dalton.”
She knew of a late night jazz club where we danced, drank martinis, danced and drank some more.
She followed me back to my hotel room. Vicky was a girl of easy virtue. Oh how she loved to suck cock, and how I loved eating pussy. If that was all we did, the night would have been a success. But wait, there’s more!
We fucked like rabbits. I began by easing myself into her hot soft snatch, then moved in quickly and deep after she yelled, “Push it in, Dalton, get it all the way in. I want all of that big fat meat filling me.” She never got enough of my cock, and I was enamored by her tight cum bucket. I drilled her for a good half hour before unleashing a torrent of cum squishing out with every last stroke.
Vicky let me rest for a short while before demonstrating that she was the virtuoso of sex positions. We started with the basics, then she showed me some I had never tried. It must have been the dancer in her that made her so limber and agile.
We did a standing sixty-nine, and another with her as a contortionist while pumping my cock with long smooth strokes. I got really deep inside her when she spread her legs, knees bent, feet behind her, and opening herself to my rapid thrusts. It seemed to bring on her most frequent orgasms and a powerful climax while I erupted in her sweet cunt for a second time.
At sunrise, neither of us had gotten more than an hour of sleep. I showered, gave her the going rate and a generous tip before meeting the boss for breakfast.
Vicky wasn’t in the room when I returned. She left her business card on the desk that read, “When you’re lonely and need a friend, call Vicky.” On the back side she wrote, “Thanks.”
For me, on the flight home, it all felt like a mirage, an illusion. The nearly five hour flight that morning give me time to catch some zzz’s. But I wondered about my other cousin, Cicely. If Mila was working at such an unanticipated profession, maybe Cici was doing something equally erotic. If not erotic, maybe something fascinating. I had to find out.
Find out what Cici is up to in “Cousin Cicely, Part Two”
