Breaking The Seal

They fell asleep together on the sand before waking up again, hours later. It was still day but the sky was a deeper, greyer blue than before; it wouldn't be long before the sun started setting. Peter and Katya took in their surroundings, smiling when they realized they were still with each other and that this hadn't been some cruel, taunting dream. Peter reached up and caressed his cousin's face.

"You are beautiful," Peter marveled.

"You are beautiful," Katya returned the compliment, running her fingers along his face in kind.

"I don't know what we do next," Peter admitted.

"We drink," Katya answered, stretching over as far as she could without letting her legs leave Peter's sides and grabbing the bottle of vodka, which was still two-thirds full. She brushed the sand from the bottom of the bottle off with her hand and rested it square on the center of Peter's chest.

"To long overdue reunion," Katya pronounced, lifting the bottle from Peter's chest and taking a long swig. She handed the bottle to Peter. He took it and sat up; Katya scooted back, still straddling him, his sleeping prick resting snugly between his pelvis and her still warm and wet slit.

Peter held the bottle and thought hard about what to toast to. Finally it came to him and he held the bottle up with confidence.

"To nostalghia," Peter proclaimed, taking a long swig. He stopped feeling so proud of himself when he noticed Katya just staring at him blankly.

"What?" Peter asked.

"I don't know," Katya answered, equally confused.

"Nostalghia," Peter repeated himself. "That's Russian, right?" She still looked at him blankly.

"I mean, in English, nostalgia just means a longing for or reminiscence of the past. But doesn't nostalghia, in Russian, specifically mean homesickness for Russia?"

Katya still looked at him blankly.

"Like, it's a metaphor, and I'm trying to say you're Russia, and I've been homesick for you, and now I'm home."

Katya still looked at him blankly.

"Oh, come on!" Peter grew frustrated. "Like in the Tarkovsky movie? I'm not imagining the definition of this word, am I?"

Katya continued to stare at her cousin until finally she burst out into uncontrollable laughter. She collapsed onto her cousin, laughing into the chest she had been clawing into only minutes earlier.

"What?" Peter complained.

"I am sorry, cousin," Katya tried to spit out between long bursts of laughter.

"What?" Peter insisted.

"I appreciate sentiment," Katya, still barreling over with laughter, tried to pick herself up again so she could look her cousin in the eye, "but what is word in English?" She still laughed in spite of herself and in spite of her stone-faced cousin lying beneath her. "Cheesy!" she finally exclaimed. "What you say is very cheesy!"

"Well I love you too," Peter shrugged.

"Ooohhhhh," Katya fell forward and kissed her cousin several times indiscriminately on the cheeks and lips, simultaneously playfully and sincerely. "I love you, cousin. Does not make what you say any less cheesy," she laughed and took a swig of vodka before holding the bottle forward and offering it to Peter. Peter took another large swig to assuage his bruised ego. Katya could detect his discomfort.

"Hey," Katya asserted. "I am just teasing you, like cousins do, yes?" Peter listened. "I want you to be open with me. Always free to be open with me, da? I want you always to be honest with me, no matter how cheesy," Katya gave her older cousin a reassuring smile. It reminded Peter of their time as children, when she acted like his guardian even though he was older than her. He leaned forward and kissed her and she welcomed his kiss. The taste of the alcohol on both their lips made Peter realize he was starting to feel buzzed, and he wondered if Katya felt the same.

"Yes," Katya said, practically reading his mind, "but we must finish bottle before night is through, come Hell or gold water." Katya laughed to herself. "That is American expression, yes? But I change it slightly, to fit current situation. Is how you make joke, yes?" Katya laughed, proud of herself, and Peter laughed too, feeling better knowing that, yes, his cousin was getting drunk at roughly the same rate as him.

"Do you have to go yet, cousin?" Katya asked hopefully.

"Nope," Peter replied. He felt the barest hint that, yes, his bladder was starting to fill, but he was nowhere near the point where he'd have to relieve himself.

"Well, it will come," Katya assured him, holding up the bottle that still had entirely too much vodka in it. "We will make sure of that." She took another long swig and handed it to Peter, who matched her.

"Have you had many girlfriends?" Katya asked. Peter seemed surprised for a moment by the question and stopped mid-swig.

"Answer honestly, cousin," Katya admonished. "I will not be jealous about women in your past, just as you should not be jealous about boys in my past."

"Have you had many boys in your past?" Peter deflected the question.

"I have had couple," Katya answered, "and 'boys' is right word. They were enjoyable. I had good times with them, but they could not do what you do," Katya smiled conspiratorially, looking back on the amazing experience they just shared, and took the bottle from Peter and took another swig.

"And what about you?" Katya pressed on. "Tell me about your girlfriends. I won't believe you haven't had any."

"I had one," Peter admitted, "for a few years." Peter thought back to Kate, his girlfriend he met his first year of college, who didn't care that he was so much younger than all the other students, who wasn't intimidated by his intelligence and who found his innocence to be her biggest turn-on. "I don't really want to talk about her," Peter finally confessed.

"Fine," Katya answered. "But we have so much bottle left," she held it up as evidence, "you will spill eventually." She slid her slippery sex along her cousin's resting cock. "In more ways than one," she added. Her mischievous grin was arguably the sexiest weapon in her arsenal.

"You're English is very good," Peter remarked, taking another drink.

"Thank you, cousin," Katya replied. "I am guessing your Russian is still..."

"Non-existent," Peter finished her sentence. "Yes. Language was never one of the areas of study I took to as quickly as others, and I started too late."

"Nonsense," Katya took the bottle and took a drink. "Never too late. I teach you."

"You're going to teach me?"

"Yes. Perfect opportunity. We are Russian. We are Russian and drinking, and you know what else we should be doing when we are Russian and drinking?"

"I have a feeling I know," Peter dreaded the answer.

"Singing!" Katya announced proudly, slapping Peter's chest as she took another swig. She handed Peter the bottle and he took a longer swig himself, to steel himself for all the inevitable folk songs he didn't mind missing out on when his parents kept their culture to a minimum around him. For the next hour and a half the cousins polished off another third of the bottle as Katya ran him through every Russian drinking song she could think of. They were rapidly getting drunk at this point, their sloppy singing echoing across their empty stretch of beach and out into the ocean beyond. The sun started to set and the sky and the waters beneath it took on a golden hue.

Peter felt the familiar pressure building in his bladder, felt it starting to balloon, but it wasn't yet at the point of being unbearable and he still felt he could hold it.

"Do you have to go yet, cousin?" Katya asked, seeming to read his mind again. She still straddled him while he lay on his back—they hadn't moved from their comfortable positions in hours.

"No," Peter replied. "Do you?" He had felt her fidgeting, gently grinding her pelvis against him for some time now, like she might be trying to hold it in.

"Yes," Katya smiled.

"So go," Peter looked around the beach, indicating she had all of it to use to relieve herself.

"I will," Katya's smile grew bigger. She wasn't getting up. She stopped rocking back and forth and settled herself down just above the tip of Peter's flaccid cock and his belly. He felt her warmth begin to emanate from her, quickly followed by the actual stream. Any lingering concerns Peter might have had about this new development in their sexual relationship were quickly washed away by his cousin's golden stream. Her hot piss felt good on his skin in the cool breeze; she poured herself out on top of his cock and down his belly, and Peter lifted his hips up off the sand, lifting his pissing cousin up with him, so her stream would flow farther down his chest. Peter felt his cock twitching to life under his cousin's continuous shower as it only grew in intensity, spraying torrent after torrent down his body and bathing his torso completely to the neck. A few stray volleys even shot higher through the air and towards Peter's face, and without thinking about it he opened his mouth wide and tried to catch them. Most of them splattered against Peter's face, forcing him to close his eyes, with only one round landing squarely on his tongue and letting him taste his cousin's salty secretions. It made him thirsty for more.

Katya's flow wound down in intensity as Peter's cock rose to its full length. Katya pressed her fingers to her folds, shaking out any remaining excess, and once it was clear she had nothing left, Peter slid himself up and inside his already wet and waiting cousin with ease. She moaned excitedly and pressed down, burying his hard prick down to the hilt inside her. As he began thrusting up inside her tightness, Katya leaned forward and pressed her dry flesh against her cousin's soaking hard body. She slid her body along his, painting her breasts and belly with the same warm juices she had used to paint him. She kissed his chest hungrily and licked and sucked every last drop of herself from him while it was still warm, and as Peter pounded himself more furiously into her, she stretched up and kissed his lips, snaking her tongue into his mouth, sharing her taste with him. The taste of his cousin's piss in both their mouths sent Peter into a frenzy; he held his cousin tightly to him and began bucking uncontrollably into her. The cousins moaned loudly and shamelessly into each other's mouths, Katya's piss still swirling between their tongues, as Peter stabbed deeper and harder into his cousin's piss-drenched cunt. Peter grabbed Katya's ass firmly and held her tight to him as he pounded her pussy with abandon.

Katya began to shake uncontrollably in Peter's grip and she forced her lips away from his and howled in ecstasy. Peter lost control in tandem with her and let out a guttural cry in kind as he fired jet after jet after jet of his hot cum up into her tiny twat. Just minutes before they had serenaded their private beach with Russian folk songs; now they sang a chorus of an entirely different nature.

The cousins lay still in the sand for some time, recovering, their bodies glorious, glistening messes of sweat, piss, and cum. The beach was getting darker now, the sun setting on the horizon and the last vestiges of gold reflected on the water giving way to deeper blues and blacks and the faint white glow of the moon and the stars. Silently, Katya stood up and extended her hand to Peter. He took her hand and she lifted him up, leading him to the waters rolling in on the shore, where they took their time washing each other clean.

They walked back to the beach and sat down on the sand, cooler now under the night sky, with the bottle of vodka between them. They shared another drink silently, simply appreciating each other's company and the beauty of the view before them, the beach giving way to the ocean and the sky that seemed to stretch out into infinity.

"Why you have no friends?" Katya finally asked her cousin, looking concerned.

"What?" Peter was taken aback and tried to play it off like the question didn't bother him.

"Our parents' still talk, da?" Katya explained. "I hear things." When Peter looked away from his cousin and down at his feet in the sand Katya quickly followed up, "I do not mean to pry. We can talk about other things."

"No," Peter finally answered, firmly. He and his cousin had shared so much over the last several hours, had made up for so much lost time, that he didn't want to ruin it with dishonesty now. "You're right. I don't really have any friends."

"But you did?" Katya asked.

"Yes." Peter felt the pressure in his bladder building. It wasn't just the full-but-bearable feeling now; he felt the first stabbing pangs puncturing his abdomen, the feeling he was about to burst.

"When you still had girlfriend?" Katya finally pressed.

"Yes," Peter answered, grimacing through another sharp stab. Rather than continue Peter took another drink, even though he knew it would only add to his inner torment.

"What happened?" Katya asked, taking another drink in solidarity.

"We broke up," Peter replied. "We didn't even break up, really," he corrected himself. "We just grew apart. I don't even know why, neither of us did anything to hurt the other." Peter grabbed the bottle back from Katya and took a long chug, trying to dull the pain but only adding to the immense buildup inside.

"I am listening," Katya reassured him.

"Afterwards I just didn't feel like being around people," Peter continued. "All my friends wanted to be there for me, of course, but it didn't help. Being with other people just felt perfunctory and I saw no point in not just being alone." Peter looked at the bottle while considering the rest of his statement. "You make enough excuses when people ask to hang out and eventually they stop asking, you know?" He took another long swig and cringed at the stabbing in his bladder.

"When did you break up?" Katya asked. Peter drank again.

"Two years ago," he admitted, shamefully.

"That is long time, cousin," Katya said compassionately.

"I know," Peter acknowledged.

"You can move on," Katya offered, taking the bottle from him and taking another swig.

"I don't know if I can," Peter confessed.

"Why?" Katya probed.

"It wasn't just a relationship, it was," Peter searched for the right words. "I've never believed in destiny or soul mates or there being one specific person out there for everyone or any of that crap, but Kate, Kate made me question that." Peter took another long drink. "I couldn't picture anyone else equaling that, so why bother being with anyone?"

"Is funny, her name being Kate," Katya smiled, taking a drink.

"To be honest, it hadn't even occurred to me," Peter laughed.

"You say you don't see point of being with people, but you are being with me," Katya observed.

"That's different," Peter argued feebly. The pain in his pelvis was piercing now; he scrunched his body forward to contain it.

"Why?" Katya asked.

"I don't know," Peter said. "You're from my childhood." They both knew that wasn't an answer.

"If we had been friends together, all these years," Katya asked, "would you have shut me out, too?" Peter couldn't help but cry, knowing the answer might well have been yes.

"Why can't you let her go?" Katya pressed on, knowing her cousin was nearing a breakthrough.

"Because I don't want to forget," he confessed. "I don't want to forget the feeling of what we had."

"Because you don't think you will have it again?" Katya asked. Peter nodded yes and took another drink. "When I had first boyfriend," Katya began, taking another drink for herself, "I thought, 'I love this boy. No one else will make me feel like this.' That lasted for couple weeks. Next boyfriend, feeling was even stronger. I thought, 'I was foolish, thinking that was love with last boy. Clearly this is what love really is like.' That lasted for several months, but eventually it ended too. Had I not tried with second boy, I would have gone on thinking what I felt with first boy was all love could be. Second boy not work out either, but he leaves me with hope; maybe third boy will be even better," Katya looked pointedly into her cousin's eyes.

"There's no guarantee of that," Peter demurred.

"Of course not," Katya retorted. "Such American thing, to expect guarantees. Not guarantees on anything. But no point in anything if everything guaranteed."

Peter groaned audibly now. His bladder felt like it was about to burst; he felt like he was being skewered inside by a thousand tiny needles, all about to puncture his balloon.

"You do not want to forget girlfriend," Katya continued. "Letting go is not forgetting. She is part of you, will always be part of you." Katya stood up and helped Peter stand up to face her. He was older than her and towered almost a foot over her as he looked down into her eyes, but just as in childhood, he looked at her as though she was his guardian.

"She is part of you," Katya reassured him, "but as time passes, there are things that are part of us that we no longer need." Peter struggled to stand upright as the pain seared through his pelvis. Katya knelt down, her face directly in line with the organ that gave Peter so much pain. She reached up and, with her tiny fingers, gently lifted his trembling member up towards her face. "Is no shame in letting such things go. Is natural."

Peter sighed in relief as he let himself go. He sprayed forth violently, his piss plastering his cousin's face, and she closed her eyes and opened her mouth gladly to welcome it. She drank of him as much as she could until her mouth overflowed and she began to gag, at which point she directed his spray up into her scalp and hair where it poured down through her blonde locks and down her shoulders and her back while she let the excesses in her mouth spill down her chin and neck and down her tiny tits into her crouching lap. She baptized herself in his piss, guiding his prick helpfully with one hand while rubbing herself anxiously with the other. Peter's hot shower insulated her from the beach's cool breeze, and looking down on her, Peter could see the steam rising from his beautiful cousin's submissive, nubile form. Katya directed Peter's stream downwards, bathing the rest of her body more completely in him, before bringing him back up into her mouth and drinking down his remaining salty cascades.

When Peter had nothing left to let go Katya guided him gently down onto his knees on the beach before her. She wrapped her small fingers around his prick and worked him up into an erection faster than Peter or anyone had ever managed before—a matter of seconds—before standing up and placing her own winking vagina directly onto his anxious mouth. She let her dam break and streams of her poured straight down Peter's hungry throat, and when he could swallow no more he directed her, like she had him, to shower the rest of his body, first the top of his head and then down the front of his body. She baptized him just as he baptized her, in their holy golden water, and when she was done he guided her body downward onto his waiting hard prick. They fucked each other sitting up, their bodies bathed in each other, their eyes locked unbreakably into one another's, the steam from the hot piss coating their bodies in the cool air rising from both of them like a pair of phoenixes emerging from the ashes. They were one now, both in their bodies and in the knowledge that this was the best either had ever known, but that their union came with no guarantees. But guarantees were irrelevant in moments of such utter bliss.

* * *

The cousins awoke next to each other in the morning in a patch of soggy sand created by their many myriad juices. They washed themselves off in the ocean again, kissing and playing like kids splashing about in the water. When they got out they realized they hadn't brought a towel, so they washed their trunks and bikinis in the water as well before getting dressed.