1997: My Cousin's Nasty Wedding

It took eleven years to my cousin Lella to get married, after the day she announced me her intention to do it.

It was eleven very long years for me, full with happiness and tears.

During those eleven years the world had changed. The Cold War was over, central Europe had been liberated, Germany unified, Soviet Union collapsed. There had been the First Gulf war, Somalia with the loss of innocence of the Italian Army, and then the wars in the Former Yugoslav wars had started and weren't over yet.

I was very changed too.

I had been keeping on my program to explore the world as much as I could, basically together with my best friend Franco, trying to dick down as many girls as possible along our way.

Meanwhile, I got myself a long lasting girlfriend, I dumped her as she betrayed me in Jamaica (quite an item in Literotica I know, but this one is a true story), and most important of all, I got married. I had grown into a happy and confident man, and I believed I had achieved my final status.

During all that time, I had staid away from Lella. Our forbidden excursion within the Taboo Zone had led us to quite a dangerous situation, and I had no desire to make things worse by continuing our illicit sexual relationship.

She had been engaged since, and never tried to catch me back. Not that we didn't meet during these years: we saw each other plenty of times, but always together with somebody else, friends or family, and none of us tried to make it different. Most important of all, we never spoke about what had happened between us.

Maybe because there was nothing good we could get out of it by talking: it was just wrong, and we both knew it. Besides, I knew by then I was not in love with my cousin: I just lusted her... And I didn't anymore. Surely, not after I met my wife.

I didn't know weather she felt the same though. She got engaged all right, but she also fucked me after she did... Feeling very guilty too, sure, but she did.

On the other hand, during those eleven years she didn't try again to slip into my bed.

She didn't do anything at all, for that's sake.

She painfully made her ground to a stop at Uni, she got a good job as a secretary at a lawyer's office and quitted it after two years to go back to study... And nothing else, apart from two Church-led trips to Tunisia and Jerusalem, both with her fiancé.

She actually made friends with my wife, which surprised me quite a lot considering how different they were, and the day they met she actually winked at me saying, "So we both have found our mates at last, uh!"

Maybe she was sincere, maybe she was just behaving in face of my obvious love for my wife. Anyway, they went out together quite a few way, shopping.

The situation looked definitely settled, and if professionally speaking I was grounded at the Defence General Staff in Rome (which I hated), my sentimental life seemed to have reached its final harbour.

My forbidden story with my cousin seemed to be definitely over too, and slowly disappearing into oblivion...

...But, as my wife liked to sing, Life is never still, life is changing... My wife died, killed by a lung cancer in less than four months.

I was devastated. It can't happen at 36, it's unfair. Besides, my mother passed away just one year earlier, just for the same reason... Goddamned cigarettes.

If it wasn't for my dog and the Army, I don't think I would have made through it. Ysa, my Bull-Terrier (actually, my wife's), gave me somebody to love and care for; a living, good reason why I couldn't dispose of myself; she suffered as much as me, and stood beside me in those horrible times, more effective than any relative or friend. I owe her my life.

The Army kept me busy. And, I must say, didn't leave me alone. Superiors and colleagues gathered around me far tighter than I expected, and helped me out.

I was sent to Albania in April 1997. No US troops involved, so Operation Alba is hardly known... But it has been the first military operation under EU flag ever, and the largest amphibious invasion without American involvement since Suez. We put ashore almost 15.000 men under Italian command and from eight different Nations, and in less than a month we managed to restore a fallen state and put Albania back in track, killing only one and losing nobody in the process. We were proud of it.

When I came back from Albania, I realized I wasn't only a soldier anymore: I was back a person too.

Ysa was my companion, but I slowly found back my friends and relatives too.

I slowly started living again, trying to put my life back on track.

That was the situation, when my cousin announced her wedding.

I admit it: I was in no mood to celebrate. I was trying to come out of my own sorrow tunnel, and I didn't believe my presence would take much happiness, but everybody insisted and, since I was still living in Rome, I had no good excuse.

Lella herself made it clear she would not accept a no as an answer.

Plus, she actually told me, she needed special help from me.

I sighed away from the headphone and asked what she needed.

Her voice was all jolly from the other side of my handy: "The girls of our group organised a bachelorette party for me the night before the wedding," she explained. "It will take place in an hotel near the airport, and I presume we will be quite late, and... Well, I don't expect many of us to be sober at the end."

Right. Prim and proper Lella had quite a weak side, as far as alcohol was concerned.

"I can't run the risk to get stuck or worse... Couldn't you be my driver to and from the party? You know I'm not supposed to see the groom at all, the day before the wedding."

Great. How to completely fuck both my Friday evening and night... I was going to be sleepy all the ceremony the day after. But, on the other way, my evenings were not all that exciting either, and my only night companion was Ysa.

"No problem," I said. "I'll take you there and you will call me at home when you need to be picked up."

"Fantastic!" she sounded overjoyed: "I knew I could relay on you. You're my dearest..."

I picked her up at her place in the early evening of Friday. I managed to find a parking in front of her parent's house and went upstairs to cheer the overexcited parents.

My aunt kissed her child lovingly on her cheek and smiled tenderly, "Have fun my dear... And remember to sleep well!"

She kissed back and we went downstairs together. On the way to my car, I couldn't help looking at her: she looked great.

Those eleven years she had changed quite a lot. In particular during the last two years, she had really changed from a tiny girl to a full woman. She was thirty-one now, but from her face she could easily have been ten years younger; her body though, had shapen up quite a lot. Her hips widened, erasing that peculiar look of tiny girlie she used to have, and her breast also developed in a couple of full C-cup tits. It was like her hormones had recently reacted to a serious baby-warning.

She was dressed up, also something I wasn't used to: a proper evening dress, crimson red, with a long cut along the left leg, which showed her very classy dark grey stockings matched by stiletto heels which made her as tall as me. On top, since it was winter, she wore a brown fur coat, which comfortably covered her naked arms and shoulders.

I admired her as she entered my car, and as she sat down I couldn't help noticing the garter and the suspender showing through the opening of the dress side cut.

Lella being Lella, she did nothing to hide her silk-clad thigh as I drove her to the airport. Not that I complained.

I was still in no mood to hunt for women, but I still appreciated a nice show of female beauty. I will be dead the day I won't.

There was a lot of traffic, due to the hour on Friday evening, but we were in good time so we relaxed and talked pleasantly along the road.

It had been years since the last time we had been talking in private to each other.

As you can expect, she was in great mood, all excited for the party, and over the moon for the incoming great event of the day after.

We spoke about their future plans, the house they rented for start, Michele good job with the European Space Agency outside Rome, her plan to finally finishing her University life...

When I pulled into the airport area, she purred: "It was so long since we had been talking like this together, just the two of us! I was missing it..."

I smiled: "Well, I suppose we have been busy, haven't we? I had having a wife and a job, and you got a fiancé and your study. It's only two years since we came to Rome, and you know all what has happened..."

My mother's death, the war in Bosnia, and finally my wife tragedy...

"I know. I am only sorry it went like it did... I would have liked it to be pretty different, you know. And I would have liked to have more time with you..."

It started sounding like dangerous ground, and suddenly a bell warned me we were kind of approaching once more that same Taboo zone I assumed be lost in the past.

Luckily, I was pulling into the hotel parking.

Lella bended over me and kissed me lightly on the lips, whispering: "Thank you for taking me here, cousin. It really matters to me you did it... I will phone you home when I need to be taken home."

She slipped out, offering me another quick glance of her stockinged legs, and walked confidently into the hotel hall for her last unmarried night.

I was watching an old movie on TV, when the phone rang.

I watched the clock on the screen: it wasn't 23:00 yet... Could it be my cousin?

It was her: "Hi dear... Would you mind to come and take me away?"

"Err... Sure. I didn't expect it to be this early. Wasn't a nice party?"

"It's great, but I don't want to be too tired before tomorrow, you know... Wear a tie, so you can come in and have a drink before leaving. You deserve it."

I sobbed. I hate ties. And I hate tight low shoes. Good thing the Army force you into camouflage and boots most of your life...

I dressed up and drove to her through empty roads, so I was there in less than fifteen minutes.

It wasn't difficult to find their party room... It was by far the noisiest place in the hotel. You know, about thirty girls, all of them a little tipsy and loose of their significant ones... They just scream their lungs out to show their fun over the music.

I knew by sight just a few of them, the others were totally unknown to me. I assumed they were all from the Church or from Uni environment, both of which I usually tried carefully to avoid.

Lella welcomed me with a hug and a kiss, making it clear she had quite a few drinks, and then she introduced me to a few of the chicks, offering me something to drink.

I took an not-alcoholic drink and sipped it, looking around.

The girls were all dressed up, even if few of them could match my pretty cousin, and most of them were far above the driving threshold. I wondered how they were going to make it home, but of course they were far from finished with the party even if the main character was leaving so early.

Lella waved them goodbye, and some of them hugged and kissed her, laughing and crying and whishing her good luck for tomorrow. A few smirked at me as I took her away.

I can't say she was drunk, but sure enough she wasn't sober either. Her dress draped around her body made her quite beautiful in her nonchalantly attitude as we walked through the hall to the wardrobe where she retrieved her fur.

"Got fun?" I asked, as I helped her with the coat.

"Hmmm.." she purred, "It was beautiful. I'd love to stay, but I have something rather important to do, you know..."

I smiled my understanding and took her under my arm to walk out.

The valet opened us the crystal door with a wide smile: "Good night sir, and congratulations. You have a beautiful wife!"

Lella glowed with satisfaction, and I didn't bothered explaining I wasn't the groom. The valet didn't care either; his eyes were fixed on Lella's silk-coated legs, quite exposed through the dress cut as she walked out.

I helped her into the car and she relaxed on the leather seat, with a wide smile.

"Thank you for coming, Roberto. This evening is really fantastic, I will remember it forever!"

She said it in Italian of course. And in Italian, tenses matter a lot in a phrase... Lella's wordings clearly meant her evening wasn't over yet.

On the moment, I assumed she was just tipsy and chose a wrong word. I dismissed the point and started the engine.

"How do I look like?" she asked.

I smiled, looking at her without driving away yet: "You look really good, little cousin. You make a very pretty lady and a beautiful bride."

She clearly appreciated the compliment. She took my hand from the steering wheel and placed it on her uncovered thigh.

She took me by surprise. I felt the warmth of her leg through the thin silk of her expensive stockings.

I didn't know what to say. It doesn't happen often to me, but that evening I really got taken aback.

"Take me to an hotel," she said with a deep voice.

I looked at her questioningly, and she softly smiled her explanation: "I want to spend my last unmarried night with my favourite cousin... You."

I shook my head: "You must be out of your mind. How many drinks you got?"

She smiled again, pressing my hand on her lap: "Quite many... I needed to collect all my guts to ask you this."

"Lella, be serious. Tomorrow this time you'll be on your way to honeymoon with your just married husband."

"True. That's why it has to be this night. I've been waiting for eleven years; now I want you to make love to me a last time."

I looked at her, pulling my hand free: "Lella, this is wrong. You're drunk. Tomorrow you get married, you are scared and all. I'll take you home now."

A sheepish smile: "You can't."

"Why?"

"My parents know I'm sleeping at the hotel after the party... And I didn't even take the keys with me. They are sleeping now, and if you take me home they will be deadly worried something got wrong. You know how excited they are these days..."

Fuck. I didn't want to wake them up in the middle of the night if they weren't expect their daughter back.

"If you prefer, we could go to your place..." she offered, grabbing my hand back.

I was jealous of our house. I would never take another girl in my wife's bed. She knew that.

I looked at her, exasperated. I was tired, and wanted to go to bed. Alone.

Unexpectedly, she caressed me, tenderly: "Try to understand. Michele and I never made love... He wouldn't do it before the wedding. We only touched each other till now. Once I tried to take him into my mouth, and he stopped me saying, What are you doing... Like if I was degrading myself."

She sobbed: "I don't make love since the last time we did it. I touched myself so many times thinking back of you and I together! Roberto, you are still my only man.

I wonder weather you will always be! Tomorrow my husband and I will do it for the first time... And I hardly remember how to do it. Damn, I need to have you this night!"

I was still speechless. I tried: "But... Why? Why this night? It's going to spoil the most important day of your life..."

Lella smiled tenderly: "I couldn't compete with your beautiful wife, not even with her memory... This evening I found the courage to tell you because I am drunk, I am excited and it is the last chance we have."

I shook my head in disbelief.

"I need to have you one last time, Roberto. I have been waiting eleven years now, and there will be no other opportunities. I think we both deserve this... Besides, I also believe it will be good for you."

Maybe, I found myself thinking of her last remark. The closeness of a beloved one can help healing sorrow, and Lella was in a way the closest person I have left, also considering what had happened to us in the past...

I was growing weak, and she sensed it.

She pursued me more thoroughly: "Think of that: tomorrow I will give myself to my husband for the first time. I know I am his first. Should I be a hungry and clumsy chick, or rather a self-confident and caring partner for him? And even better, shall I be clear of my long lasting lust for my first, forbidden lover, or shall I make love to my husband thinking of somebody else?"

That was a good one. I knew there was something completely wrong in her argument, but on the moment I couldn't find it.

Her hand pressed mine between her thighs. I felt her warm, naked skin above the garters... "Take me to a hotel, cousin. Take me there, and make love to me."

I shook my head again: "I don't know Lella... Taking you to a hotel, like you were just a..."

Lella giggled: "Like I was your clandestine lover? My love, we are clandestine lovers..."

I was desperate. I was weak. I was wounded.

My resistances were falling, and she knew it. She knew from the feeling of my hands, moving between her bare thighs.

"Take me to a hotel, my love. Take me there, and make me yours for the last time."

There was a good, clean and discreet hotel I knew, on the speedway between the airport and Rome.

The receptionist asked for our documents, took my Visa and handled me the magnetic card of our double room, just giving us a curious look.

I suppose we made a nice couple: Lella was stunning in her evening dress and the fur coat, as tall as me on her high heels and a confident, alcohol-induced expression on her adult pretty face; and I wasn't that bad myself, for once dressed up in jacket and tie, my short greying hair and my skin still tanned by the Albanian mountains sun.

We entered the lift and before I could push the button Lella grabbed me by the neck and purposefully kissed me open-mouth, rubbing herself against me as the sliding doors closed the view of our indiscretion to the receptionist.

We French-kissed each other all the way up, and long after the doors opened on our deserted corridor.

"Better going to the room," I smiled, pulling free of her.

I opened the door and let her in before closing it behind me.

Lella slipped out of her fur coat, leaving it fall on the easy chair and looked around.

"Hmmm... Nice. Just as I imagined it to be... Being taken into a hotel room by my clandestine lover, I mean." And she smiled wickedly. "Do you think I can have a drink from the mini bar?"

"Don't you think you had enough for the evening?" I asked stupidly.

"Why, I am about to betray my husband the night before the wedding, of course I need another drink!"

I felt embarrassed. In a way she was damned right, in another way I really felt like a was a bastard of a cousin.

But she also felt like she over spoke, and came close, giving me a hug: "Sorry, I shouldn't say that. This is such an important moment for me, you can't believe. I have been dreaming of it for so many years, thinking and planning how it could be... And now here you are, all for me."

We kissed.

Lovingly.

She parted our lips and smiled, her eyes shining.

"I love you..." she whispered.

I should have felt an animal, a rotten prick, the most disgusting of the traitors for what I was going to do to my cousin's life, but in that moment I just felt moved and beloved.

For the first time in months, for a moment I didn't think of my lost wife.

I kissed her again, and then I prepared her a drink. I made one for myself too.

Moet et Chandon... Always present in the hotels'mini bar.

We sipped it, looking straight into each other's eyes.

Maybe what we were doing was damned wrong, but there was a magic in that moment, kind of a spell which made my ears flush.

It wasn't just me though. I watched intently at my beautiful cousin: her shining brown eyes, her wide-open nostrils, the accelerating breathing, the tongue constantly wetting her curling lips, the erected nipples protruding through the shiny tissue of her red evening dress... Everything in Lella's look told of her unholy sexual arousal.