Expect the Unexpected – Chapter 1 – Part 3: Pitching a Tent

Incest story: Expect the Unexpected – Chapter 1 – Part 3: Pitching a Tent

Author: viceofchoice

“So was it good sex?”

I realized I was stuck. I couldn’t get away with a non-answer or diversion. “Yeah. Usually,” I admitted. Jennifer’s expression seemed to fall a little bit, but I saw no point in lying to her. I had nothing to be ashamed of. “European girls are…pretty open to things, especially having sex with someone you’ll never see again.” Jennifer nodded thoughtfully when I was done. “Could have been better, though,” I added, feeling my stiff cock ache.

I could see she was intrigued now. “How?”

“There wasn’t…how do I want to put it?” I mused, searching for the right words. “There wasn’t any emotion to it. It was good sex, but that’s all it was: sex.” Jennifer stared at me, looking for more. “It lacked the bond that comes with making love instead of just having sex,” I summarized.

She raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean by making love?” she queried.

“I guess I’d define it as having sex with someone you’re not only physically attracted to, but emotionally or intellectually attracted to, too.”

Jennifer took a deep, contented breath. “And you didn’t have that with them?”

“No, not really,” I admitted with a slight shake of my head. “They were hot, but we’d just let our hormones run away with us as opposed to actually building any kind of relationship. That’s the difference.”

“Oh.” Jennifer slid off my chest and curled back up beside me.

Was the conversation done? I hoped it was, but I couldn’t be sure. Where was she going with this interrogation of my escapades in Europe? I had an inkling, though I wanted desperately to be wrong. I was hoping this lull would last long enough to quell the sexual urge I was feeling, but I didn’t have a lot of hope. Sure enough, just as I felt my turgid partner start to settle, she spoke again at last.

“Carter?”

“Hm?”

“I’m starting to get a little warm now.”

This wasn’t what I expected. Maybe the danger was over. “So…do you want to take the sleeping blankets apart again?” I asked her.

“No,” she giggled sweetly. “Then I’d get cold again. I just need to find a happy medium.”

“Oh.”

Just then, Jennifer started rubbing my chest again. There was no stopping it; whatever length and girth my raging erection had lost, it regained it instantly. As if that wasn’t enough, I then heard the words I simultaneously yearned for and dreaded.

“Carter?”

“Hm?”

“Do you mind if I take my pants off?”

I hesitated, and swallowed hard with nervousness. There it was: the heavy dilemma I was now faced with. This single, potent question was what had caused me to reflect on this entire day. What was I to do? Deny Jennifer her comfort? It was a compromising situation, but obviously my cousin felt comfortable with it. I wouldn’t force her into anything, but she could act how she wanted, right? She was, after all, eighteen now.

I repeated my mantra in my head: Nothing could happen. Nothing would happen.

“Yeah…I suppose,” I permitted. “If…you think it’ll help you be comfortable.”

“Oh, I know it will,” she responded, reaching deeply down inside our shared sleeping bag. A moment later, she brought the pants up and out, and tossed them off to the side of the tent. She laid down again and embraced me.

There we lay, together: me naked from the waist up, her essentially naked from the waist down. My heart was racing faster and harder than ever. My breathing was long and deep, trying vainly to calm myself down. I was overheating myself, trying to radiate out the warm apprehension I was feeling. In my pants, there was a raging beast, fighting angrily against the chains that bound him.

I couldn’t release him – not yet. Not unless I knew – for absolute certain – that that was what she wanted.

“Carter?”

“Hm?”

“You’re not uncomfortable with this, are you?”

“No,” I half-lied, trying to keep a straight face and my voice flat. It wasn’t completely false; it’s not that I was uncomfortable, just apprehensive. I knew she could see right through me, though. There we were; Jennifer’s body pressed so close to mine, my arm around her abdomen, her arm atop mine. There was no way she wouldn’t be able to feel the tenseness I was feeling.

Without speaking further, she took my hand in hers and led it gently down her body. Together, we crossed the thin strip of her panties around her waist. I nearly had a heart attack just from feeling it. Then, I felt skin – Jennifer’s skin. Her bare hip was waiting for me, inviting me to explore it. Jennifer’s flesh was warm and soft. I squeezed her hip, pulling her closer to me. Never had I craved feeling a woman’s body so much. She sighed in my embrace.

“Carter?”

“Hm?”

I turned to look at her. Jennifer was already staring at me. She moved in closer, closer to my face. I turned slightly towards her, anxious to accept whatever her mouth had to offer, whether it ended up being words or something wordless.

Our mouths were so close together. I could feel the softness of her breath on my lips as it escaped hers. Slowly, the gap disappeared between us. I saw her eyes close, and mine followed suit. Our lips touched. Her plush mouth was incredible to feel pressed against the roughness of mine.

The kiss we shared was long and deep. The satisfaction it gave me was terrific. The warmth and affection was undeniable, filled with the passion, honesty and sense of unity that had been built up over years of restraint. Our mouths slid perfectly against one another, expressing a mutual affection for which words failed us.

A second intense kiss passed between us, then a third, before I finally came to my senses. I broke away reluctantly, putting my hand to her mouth. Jennifer kissed my fingers instead. It was a few seconds before I was able to speak.

“Jen…” I addressed tenderly.

“Hm?” she answered with a peaceful smile, mocking the reply I had been giving her.

I breathed slowly a few times before I continued. The heat of the moment was overwhelming. “Should we really be doing this?”

Jennifer sighed heavily, closing her eyes in shame. “I know…” she agreed ruefully. “We’re cousins…”

“Yeah… We’re cousins…” I lamented with her. It just didn’t seem fair, but I had to do the right thing. “And I’m seven years older than you. I’m just trying to be responsible.” She furrowed her brow in frustration. “I’m sorry, Jen.”

The words hung heavily in the air like an invisible weight of disgrace. It was only us, no one else had seen the romantic gesture, but the stifling, taboo nature of it was a sledgehammer to the chest, knocking the wind out of me. It had been so wonderful, felt so right and so comfortable. Because of just how breathtaking the moment had been, I found myself questioning just how wrong it could possibly be. Wasn’t this love?

Jennifer must have been reading my thoughts.

“Carter?”

“Hm?”

“Do you regret kissing me?”

“No!” I exclaimed as quietly as my emotions would let me. Jennifer’s face lit up. “How could I, Jen? I could no more regret kissing you than I could graduating college.” Those sparkling blue eyes were filled with wonder and affection for me, more than I’d ever seen before. “Do you regret it?”

“Not at all! I’ve wanted to kiss you all day! Like, really, truly kiss you!” she cried out quietly. “Then…when I learned we’d be sharing a tent together… Oh, it just seemed like the perfect opportunity.”

I embraced her tightly. “I know, Jen…” I lulled her, holding her head squarely against my shoulder. “I know.”

We laid there for another moment, basking in the realization of just how we felt about one another. Damn social norms! Damn them to hell! Why did natural, perfect affection like this have to be held in such contempt? If a man could love another man and a woman could love another woman, then I could love my cousin, damn it!

“Carter?”

“Hm?”

“Do you think I’m pretty?”

I backed my head away to look at her, struggling to comprehend as to whether I’d heard that right. “Jen…” I admired her. “I think you’re absolutely beautiful!”

“Beautiful like your European girls?”

“Jen,” I complimented her, “they honestly don’t hold a candle to you.” It wasn’t flattery. I truly meant every word. “Remember what I told you? I had a physical connection with them, but lacked that connection on a deeper level, an intellectual attraction?” She nodded in reply. “That’s what I have with you, Jen.”

“And the physical attraction?”

“You don’t have anything to worry about there, Jen. Not a thing!” Jennifer just smiled and smiled. “You have had that covered for years. You are so beautiful, always have been!” I brushed the hair away from her face so I could see her better. “And in the past couple years… Your body…bloody hell, Jen! You’ve matured in a way that blows my mind! You are incredibly sexy! You’re absolutely gorgeous!”

“Even with only these?” she asked bashfully, staring down at her chest with a pout.

I looked down. Jennifer had never been a chesty girl, and having stretched up and lost her baby fat through adolescence, her breasts had remained relatively the same size for years. I never realized that they might be something she wasn’t proud of. The thought had never even occurred to me. As far as I could tell, the beautiful, womanly set was something she worked and worked well.

“Jen…” I gasped in disbelief, not knowing what to say. “These?” I reached to her chest with my free hand. I expected Jennifer to halt my attempt, but instead she moved her arm out of the way. I ran my hand over her, lightly stroking the curve of her breast through her shirt. “These are absolutely stunning!”

With a careful, light touch, I spun my thumb around the point of her nipple. I could feel it harden through the fabric. Jennifer closed her eyes and drew in a deep, sharp breath, exhaling it in a shiver.

“I can’t believe you’d ever be disappointed with these, Jen.” I let my hand stop and cup her firm breast completely, giving a gentle squeeze. Jennifer closed her eyes again and whimpered softly in delight. “These natural beauties?” I admired. “They’re incredible!”

Jennifer opened her eyes again and half-smiled. “But I’m only a 32B,” she mourned.