Ninety-five degrees and WLBT First Alert Weather said it felt like one hundred and nine. The humidity at ninety-seven percent made breathing hard and working impossible. The old wood-frame shack was situated under two giant water oaks. It was hot, still, but better in the shade of the trees. No breeze to speak of, but in Southwest Mississippi, that would change when the afternoon storms came.
Just a half-mile from Terry’s Creek Baptist Church, the shaded shack offered little relief from the heat. No air conditioning but for an undersized window unit and a ceiling fan to stir the slightly cooler air. Terry sat on the steps thinking how cool the water flowing through his backyard would be. His cut-off jeans were soaked in sweat and grime from the day’s bush hogging.
Terry’s Creek wasn’t named for him, but he claimed the quarter-mile stretch that cut his property in half. The muscadines hung green and heavy from their vines hanging in the branches above the creek. They were nearing ripeness and he looked forward to the wine they would yield. Once every year, he would make enough to last nearly through to the next making. Running out about a month ago, he craved a new vintage.
He could see the clouds building in the distance, heat lightning flashing silently above them. He knew in a half hour or so that the rain would come. It always did. Another welcome sight was what was walking up his driveway. Belinda was his closest neighbor and his first cousin.
“Hey, Bebe,” Terry yelled.
“Hey, Cuz,” she answered, still a couple of hundred yards away.
Bebe wasn’t a small girl but you wouldn’t say she was fat either. ‘Big boned,’ Terry thought of her. She wore almost as little as he did: old cut-off jeans, hers much shorter than his, and one of her boyfriend’s tank tops under shirts. Soaked in sweat, he could see her nipples from a hundred yards away. No big deal. That was just the way they dressed.
“Fucking hot today, Cuz,” Terry said as she say in his lawn chair just a few feet from him.
“I don’t know about fucking,” she laughed, fanning her face with an old politicians fan left from last year’s supervisor’s race, “But it’s hot.”
Large raindrops began tapping on the metal roof of his lean-to carport. Terry leaned back, hands behind his head when the first rain-cooled breeze drifted through causing the dried leaves to let go and fall from the branches of his shade trees. “Them muscadines ready yet?” Bebe asked taking a long cool breath.
“I give them a week,” he answered, “Gonna be a lot of ‘em this year. You going to help me get them.”
“You know it, Cuz.”
The heavy boom of thunder from the first real tightening strike made them stand up and walk inside. It wouldn’t do to be out there in a thunderstorm. Terry opened the fridge and took two Bud Lights from the bottom shelf, handing one to his cousin. She thanked him, twisting the top from the bottle and taking several swallows. There was just nothing like a cold beer to wet your whistle.
“Looks like this one has set in,” Terry said, leaning on the frame of the open door, looking out at the storm, “You’re going to be stuck here for a while.”
“Oh well, there ain’t shit else to do,” she said, dropping her empty bottle in the big trashcan outside the door, “Want another beer?” She asked, her breast pressed to his back.
Terry downed his and dropped his bottle in with hers, “Yeh, sure.”
Belinda helped herself to another, tossing him one, and then made her way to the second-hand couch under the window. The storm raged, cooling the late afternoon air. The dirty old window was hard to see through so she pushed up the bottom sash, feeling the cool water spray that blew through the rusty old screen.
Terry stood, still watching the storm from the door, “I got some eggs for ya. Don’t forget when you get ready to leave.”
He had about forty chickens in a coop on the lower side of his yard probably a hundred yards from his shack. He gathered eggs every morning, selling dozens to neighbors. It made him enough money for laying pellets and beer, not to mention, that he always had eggs for breakfast.
“Trying to run me off already,” Bebe asked, leaning back against the arm of the old sofa, one foot on the floor and the other stretched out on the cushions.
He looked over his shoulder with a grunting laugh, “Yeah, git your ass on down the road.”
They both chuckled as Terry walked to the sofa. Bebe had to pull her foot out of the way when he plopped down on the cushion. She put her foot on his lap while he took another sip of his beer, “Careful there, Cuz,” he teased, “Don’t bruise anything important.”
“Aw, poor baby,” Bebe teased, rubbing her heel on his fly, “Did I hurt your little pee-pee?”
“Little?” he laughed, “You know better than that.”
“Yeah, yeah,” she admitted, having seen him naked many times as they swam in the creek behind his shack. Cousins, yes but there was nothing weird about skinny dipping, as long as you were just trying to beat the heat.
“So you looked,” he continued teasing his cousin, “You pervert.”
“Fuck you,” she laughed, “I’ve seen you looking at my tits so many times. You probably jack off thinking about them.”
Choking on his beer, Terry spat a laugh, spraying beer everywhere, “Shut up before you choke me to death.”
“Don’t worry, Cuz,” Bebe assured him, continuing to rub her foot on his lap, “I don’t mind. It’ll be our secret.”
The storm had strengthened, lightning flashing and thunder rolling, the cool wind buffeting the window under which they sat. The misty breeze that breached the screen tossed Bebe’s brown hair around the bun that she wore atop her head. Terry couldn’t help but look at her brown eyes that flashed with the lightning.
“You keep that up,” he said of her foot in his lap, “I’m going to have to pull it out now and jack off.”
With a sexy smirk, she pressed her toes onto the swelling in his shorts, “Do what ya gotta do, Cuz,” she said.
Terry downed the rest of his beer then took hers from her hand, downing the half-full bottle in just a couple of gulps. Feigning anger, she pushed his shoulder with her foot, “I want another one,” she said, getting up.
“Get me one,” Terry called over the rumble of distant thunder.
Bebe returned with two more Bud Lights, standing in front of him, feet spread and hip cocked to her right, “You are fucking hard and you call me a pervert,” she said, motioning to the bulge pressing the fly of his shorts.
“You woke him up,” he told her.
“I guess that means you want me to put him back to sleep?”
He gave her a look of mock disgust, “You really are a pervert.”
She tossed him the cold bottle, dripping with condensation, “You’re the motherfucker with the hard-on.”
“Fuck you,” Terry laughed.
“Look, Cuz,” she laughed, “Jack off thinking about my tits if you want but we ain’t fucking.”
“I wouldn’t fuck you with that preacher’s dick,” he cracked, referring to the minister down the road.
“You don’t have to, Cuz,” she returned, “He does it all the time.”
“You’re bullshitting me,” Terry dismissed, “He’s married.”
“So,”
“Your not serious?” He asked.
With a naughty smile, she bit her lip with a nod of her head. Terry was completely hard, just thinking about what she had just told him. He was aghast and utterly confounded. His idea of the man that was supposed to be a role model and a good example to others was just shattered. It wasn’t that he was a churchgoer, but he just thought… Hell, he didn’t know what to think.
“When?” He asked, “Where?”
The lightning was now past, the storm seemed to settle into just a steady rain and distant rumbles of thunder. A cool wind now blew continuously through the window and door. Belinda shifted her weight from one leg to the other, her hips swaying slowly back and forth. She smiled naughtily, knowing she had shocked her older cousin, “I’m just shitting ya.”
“Bitch,” Terry choked again on his fresh beer, “That’s fucked up.”
“That’s what’s fucked up,” Bebe said, pointing at the bulge that persisted to strain against her cousin’s denim cutoffs, “You need to do something with that before you get blue balls or some shit.”
“As soon as you leave,” he answered, “I’ll take care of it.”
Though it was only three in the afternoon, the sky was darkened by the heavy rain and clouds. The dusty driveway had turned to mud.
“I’m going to be here a while, Cuz,” Bebe answered, glancing past him at the window, “You may as well get it over with.”
“With you standing there watching?”
“If you think about them when you jack off, then it’s only fair.”
“I never said that I did that,” Terry argued.
“You didn’t deny it either.”
He swallowed hard, a big gulp of beer, trying to figure the situation out. True, he had fantasized about his cousin while he masturbated. Many times. ‘Fantasy was one thing,’ he thought, ‘This was a different animal altogether.’ He had been absently gripping his hard shaft through his jeans, squeezing his hard dick.
“You’re practically doing it already, Cuz,” Bebe said, “Might as well get comfortable.”
He sat in awkward silence for what seemed like an hour. Bebe, seeing his discomfort, wanted to ease the tension that she had created. Taking a step toward her cousin, she handed him the beer she had been sipping. With a smile, she looked him in the eyes and pulled her wet tank top off, exposing her heavy breasts, “There. Now you don’t have to picture them while you stroke.”
His jaw dropped. Yeah, he had seen them before but not like this. She was teasing him. Encouraging him to masturbate in front of her. He sat, hand still gripping his shaft, shocked and unable to move.
Bebe shook her head, “Here,” she said, straddling his legs and sitting on his knees, “Let me help you.”
Before he could protest, not that he tried, she moved his hand and unzipped his fly, hid snap popped open with the flick of her thumb and finger and she pulled his shorts down to his knees. His cock, erect and throbbing, sprung back up, slapping his belly with a smack. His body, tanned dark by the summer sun was contrasted by the creamy white skin of his private area.
“Wow,” Bebe smiled, “I’ve never seen it hard. It’s as big as my wrist.”
“Fuck, Bebe,” Terry hissed when she wrapped her fingers around his cock, sliding her hand up and down his shaft, “What the fuck are you doing?”
“Just lending a hand, Cuz,” she smiled, “Want me to stop?”
“Are you kidding,” he moaned, “Hell no.”
Bebe continued stroking him, her eyes shifting from his back to his thick cock. She could feel his throbbing pulse and the wetness of his sweat and precum. She took her beer from his hand and swallowed another swig, her other hand still gripping her cousin’s erection. The hair of his legs and pubic area were matted from sweat. Another gulp and her third bottle was empty, “Drink up, Cuz. I’ll get us a cold one.”
He watched her breasts sway heavily, side to side when she stood, taking his empty bottle. The sway of her ass caught his gaze as she walked to the door, dropping the empties in the big trash can. Never having lustfully looked at his cousin before, Terry studied her body. The curve of her hips and the crease between them and her love handles. The narrowness of her waist and the roundness of her breasts.
Her nipples immediately hardened when she opened the door of the fridge, standing out a proud half-inch above her tits. When she turned back, she saw him staring at her while stroking his long, thick cock. She leaned against the icebox, watching him with a smile, letting the cold bottle harden her nipple even more than before. She wondered how far he or even she, for that matter, would go with this.
“Take your shorts off,” Terry said, stroking slowly.
Bebe walked to him, holding a bottle in each hand, “I did yours. You do mine.”
Terry dropped his heavy cock and sat up grasping her waistband and pulling her closer. A quick flick and her snap was open then he slid her zipper down. As soon as he slipped her shorts from her wide hips and down her thick thighs, he could smell her musty pungency. The cinnamon-like aroma filled his nostrils intoxicating him. His cock was a granite baton, throbbing with his heartbeat.
Desire filled both their bodies and things could quickly get out of control. Bebe kicked the short, faded denim from her foot, her knees parted as her cousin slid his palms up her legs and grasped her round buttocks, kneading them with his strong, calloused hands. The cool wind brought goosebumps to her naked skin.
Terry, unable to resist, leaned forward, his nose buried in her hairy mound, and inhaled her scent deeply, filling his lungs with the smell of sweat and sex. He moved one hand from her as down to the back of her knee, pulling her foot up onto the sofa cushion. He had to taste her.
Bebe felt her cousin’s tongue pressing into the folds of her sex, squishing her juices onto his whiskered chin. She felt his lips wrap around the large nub of her clitoris, sending a shockwave through her body, tightening her nipples even more. It wasn’t a ripple, no it was more of a gripping pleasure. Such a naughty and dirty thing they had started.
“Fuck, Terry,” she hissed, “So good. Don’t stop.”
Pushing his tongue deeper, he slurped as much of her girl juices as he could, feeling giddy from the heady scent of her pussy. His cock stood hard and proud from his crotch, his ball sack constricted tightly, pulling his testicles up against the sides of his shaft. It would not take much to kill any inhibitions of incest. As it was, those inhibitions were dying quickly.
Pushing his cousin gently back, Terry shook his head. Bebe, disappointed but understanding stood silent, waiting to know what came next. Her wait was short. Terry stood, scooped her up in his arms, and carried her into the only other room in the small shack. There was no door to close. Gently, he put her on the bed and fell to his knees, pushing her thighs wide and kissing her prominent clit. She tossed and moaned her approval as his tongue danced in her wet folds.
The room was lit only by the torn curtain hanging above the whirring window air conditioner. Dim but still visible, he could see his cousin, her head tossing side to side, eyes closed and her lips in a perennial oh. It was interesting to him how the scent of pussy made you do things you normally wouldn’t.
‘I’m eating my cousin’s pussy,’ he thought, ‘Damn.’
Her finger found his hair, tangling and gently pulling, urging his tongue deeper. She pulled her feet up, spreading her thighs as wide as she possibly could. Cursing and swearing like a sailor, she felt the waves of pleasure building into a tsunami of orgasm. She didn’t even know what a tsunami was. Hadn’t even heard the word before.
Terry could stand no more. His cock ached and even begged for release. His balls swelled as they filled the jet pumps of his sex with his seed. He had to do it. There was no way that he wasn’t going to fuck his cousin. He pushed himself up, climbing onto the bed between her soft, thick thighs. His cock jutted thickly from his loins, standing eight inches in front of his hips.
Bebe, looked up from the pillow tucked under her brown hair, wanting that massive piece of meat inside her sex. Raising herself onto her elbows, she watched her favorite cousin push the wide head of his cock between the swollen lips of her pussy. ‘Damn,’ she thought, ‘He’s as big as a fucking horse.’
Terry looked up at her face, giving her the chance to back out. He got his answer when she bit her lip and quickly nodded. No more encouragement was needed, he pushed forward. She was so wet that he slid tightly into her love tunnel, stretching her, filling her to her limit.
Sweat dripped from the tip of his nose onto her chest. She didn’t mind, already drenched in her own perspiration, their bodies slapped with each powerful thrust of his huge cock. There was nothing exquisite about their tangled copulation. They weren’t making love. No, they were fucking. Releasing boredom and the oppressions of a hot summer day.
No holding back, her orgasm hit first, kicking her door in like a SWAT team coming for a deadly fugitive. There was no escape. It tackled her, cuffing her in shackles of pleasure. She tossed and twitched, moaning and cussing as if wracked by the barbs of a forty-thousand-watt taser.
Terry soon followed, his cum shooting from his loins like the angry cannonballs of a long-forgotten battle. He thrust deep into his cousin with every blast of cum from the tip of his thick member, filling her womb with seed. No condom nor pill had been used nor were they wanted. This was primal. This was animal. Pure sexual desire fulfilled.
The storm ended as all storms do. They sat naked on the wooden steps of his shack, drinking his last two beers. He would drive to the store in the morning to stock up. ‘A few groceries,’ he thought, ‘Yeah, a quick trip to town and then I’ll finish that bush hogging.’
“I had better go,” Bebe said, pulling her shorts up, wiggling them over her hips, “It’ll be dark soon.”
“Don’t forget…
