Confessions of a Slutty Cousin Ch. 03

"Don't know."

"Count," he scolded, slowly slipping his fingers back inside of me.

"…F-five." That is when I realized the inequity of my situation. "Six guys, only—only five orgasms." It felt strange and petty to complain, but I did feel cheated. I laughed at myself, thinking I was delirious. "Not fair."

"What would be a good rate?"

And I tried to actually think about it! One per guy, at least, seemed reasonable, but with every now and then a double-up. So… "Five to four-ish?"

"Hm."

Somehow, in spite of its treatment, my pussy was coming back to life. Again. Jacob was still slowly slipping his fingers in and out of it, like he was trailing his fingers through the surface of a pond.

"So for six that's… seven or eight?"

"Something like that," I sighed, clenching on his fingers.

But his fingers left, again. He gathered my hands up in one hand, taking them away from me, again. I shifted a little to get more comfortable, since my weight was on my face and my tits. He said, "You're two or three behind."

Was he rubbing it in? "Yes," I said, trying to sound pouty, or hurt, but I was mostly confused. "Shame."

"Maybe you should come on my dick again before we get on with it, then," Jacob said.

'Get on with what?' I wondered, but I said something like "Ah!" or "Umph!" instead, because just as soon as that, he had his cock inside me, again, and his fingers on my clit.

I felt like I didn't have much say in the matter. It only took me about half a minute to come, that time, and I was twitching and muttering and begging him to stop a half a minute after that, and he did, sort of.

He took his fingers off my clit, at least. And started running them in and out of my pussy, again, like before, like he was dipping wicks. In and out. In and out.

He walked me back from the bed, still holding my wrists in one hand. "Bend in half again," he said.

I tried to free my hands, for balance, but he didn't let me. He pushed at the small of my back, where he was holding my wrists.

"How?" I said, off-balance.

"Just fold."

I did, trembling with tension. Now he dipped his dick, instead. All the way in, all the way out. Slow as sin. Again. And again.

He shifted, and I hung there, uneasy, as he kept track of my balance for me; when he pressed me towards him with his hands, I knew he'd be pressing me away, from the other side. I tried to prepare my overwrought pussy.

But that was not to be. One of his slick fingers dipped again, but then slid upwards.

"Oh, God," I thought.

One of his thick fingers started pressing, slowly, into my ass. My poor, abused ass! At least after David's pounding it didn't feel so bad--one finger wasn't much at all--but then the second and the third were there, too, and I had the feeling it was about to get much worse. Because Jacob's cock is bigger than David's, thicker. It seemed like too much.

"Wait," I begged, "please--"

"You said 'anything,' didn't you? Do you want another spanking?"

I shivered at his tone. He sounded like he was talking down to me. "No," I lied, "I'm sorry."

"Now just try to keep still," he said, "and be a good girl." And like that, out came his fingers, and in went his cock. I squealed as he groaned, and pushed himself in by inches.

My body woke up, again. It woke up screaming.

Now, I hadn't been an ass virgin, when David got there? But it's really never been my thing. I certainly haven't had much practice, that's for sure, and now here was my cousin's big dick stuffed into me, being squeezed tighter than anything, if how it felt on my side is any way to judge. I thought I would die. I thought I would come. "Oh, God," I whispered, "too big, too big, please, fuck me, fuck me…"

And he did.

Jacob had mercy on me just enough to take my hands in both of his, to keep me upright, but as he pushed in, I still couldn't help leaning away, and when he pulled back, I came along.

He'd have to get pushing and pulling pretty hard to gain any ground, at that rate. So he did let go of my hands, with a stern warning to keep them where they were, so that he could hold my hips steady. I think he spit down to add a little more slick, and slid in and out a few times, experimentally. I pushed back at him, bore down with my muscles, trying to ease the way, and it helped. But it was still like nothing else.

He gave me a little longer to get used to him, to slow rolling, to pushing, to my balance, but not much. He called me a slut, and told me he loved me.

And then he fucked me as hard as I have ever been fucked.

There are some things you just don't get used to. There's just no adjusting, not in that kind of time. I felt divided, and pummeled, and like I said, it's not as much my thing. And I'm really not a masochist, either. But something about it… Something about the way his cock was suddenly the only thing in the world, or maybe how it was hurting something so deep inside, triggering nerves I never even thought about… I don't know, maybe I was just getting dizzy from so much blood running to my head, or insane from the way the weekend had gone… but I started to feel like a beast, wild and desperate.

I wanted to do nothing again in my life but be fucked that way, that hard and that mean. Except maybe to leap on Jacob and suck his cock. I wanted to do that, too. And I wanted to come, bad.

Every time Jacob's balls slapped against my pussy, it felt more and more like I could, even after the rest of the night. I also felt almost too sore to touch, so every slap stung, too. I was being fucked too hard to be able to think, but I kind of grasped the idea that I wasn't going to be able to just reach up and make it happen; I was too tender, and I wouldn't have the balance for it, anyway.

I tried, anyway. And, of course, I fell.

Or, at least, I started to. I almost pulled completely off of Jacob when it happened, but he caught me partway, and growled, slamming himself back in even harder, to make the point.

Somehow (I still don't know how), he managed to stay inside me while he muscled us both down to our knees on the floor. And then, I don't know if it was a matter of his just being stabler, or being madder, or what, but I swear he was able to hit me harder, from there. I hadn't thought it was possible. I started to slide forward across the floor with it. When we got close enough, I braced my fists against the baseboard, to stop our progress, and to keep from running my head into the wall. It was a near thing.

I can't even describe the sounds coming out of me. Maybe like someone being beaten to death. Or like some kind of wild animal having the best fuck of its wild animal life. And I think in between I was muttering a mantra like "Fuck, fuck me, fuck me, Jacob, fuck…"

When Jacob finally pulled out, it felt like a week had gone by. I thought I'd just missed his climax, somehow, but when he pushed me over onto my back, he still had his dick in his hand, and he was pumping it frantically. He started to climb up onto me.

There was a moment of hesitation, a little muttering, and then he cursed.

He staggered up to his feet, reordering himself enough to get through the hall without hanging out of his clothes, and pointed at me. "Don't move," he ordered me. "Not a fucking inch."

I didn't. I felt my muscles grasping for what they were missing, but I lay still, if bewildered. "Come back?" I tried to say, but I'm not sure I managed.

I didn't really have long enough to think about what was happening, or I might have worried, but Jacob just came back damp and smelling like Joan's soap. I appreciated (and was, frankly, a little surprised by) his attention to hygiene, or at least I would be later when I could think straight. Maybe Becca had trained him at least as well as that. Maybe I should hate her a little less. But probably not.

Then Jacob fell on me like he was going to kill me, and I gasped, actually afraid for myself.

Instead, he just drove into me like he was trying to, like he could destroy me through my pussy. This, my body could understand. It seemed like it was all it could understand, anymore. I tried to cling onto him, claw his back, pull his hair, anything to get closer, hold tighter.

The phrase "marathon fuck" comes to mind.

Jacob came in me one more time, after a little more abuse, but (I was still at least one behind) he only shifted out and buried his face between my legs, again. For some reason, even compared to everything I had done, everyone I had serviced, how much I ached, I still felt like he was the one being a good sport, catching me up to my preferred orgasms per capita.

Maybe it was mostly for him, though. I almost screamed, I was so overwrought, and he had to hold my legs down, hard, and grapple with my hands, to keep me still enough to tongue me. I wasn't exactly begging for it. Except then I was, too. I was still muttering, "Fuck, Jacob, fuck me…" while I was trying to get away.

My nerves were so raw that I hurt. Everything he touched ached, and sent thrills of lust through me at the same time. I started to be very scared that I'd be too hot to come, again, that I was beyond managing a fifth in one night—I'd never had that many in one night, never—and it terrified me. What if I didn't come? What if he just held me down and overloaded me for the rest of the night? The rest of the week? Or just until he'd recuperated enough to fuck me again? I'd never come down, I'd just stay there, high, my pussy screaming at me, getting hornier and hornier, and never be able to relax enough to come. Jacob would just have to take me home, like he'd threatened, and keep fucking me and fucking me until it killed me.

My orgasm shook my body so hard that I kicked the bookshelf fit to knock it off the pegs that held it. There wasn't much on it, so the clattering noise wasn't too too bad, but it only barely covered my wailing.

How well had they soundproofed this house?

Or were the people still here just not surprised?

Jacob did stifle my mouth, finally, and kept twisting his tongue on me until I came through the other side of my orgasm, and my kicking and jolting settled down into a scary kind of shivering that I couldn't seem to make stop. He kissed my clit one last time (for good measure, I guess), and slowly pushed himself up and off me. Then he left me there. He just left.

I passed out, naked, on the floor, and stayed there the rest of the night.

----

Sunday went by in a haze. I managed to shower and dress, but I don't remember how. My hair looked just as messy as it should have, because I didn't bother to comb it, out of the shower, and I didn't put on any make-up—or a bra, for that matter. And Jacob never had given me back my panties. I didn't ask him for them. I didn't even bother to pretend to like Becca, or try to avoid my various new sex partners, if that's what they were. I left early, but everyone I'd fucked made sure to kiss me goodbye and call me cousin. A few of them said, "Hey, if I'm ever up in your neck of the woods…?" and I'm not sure how I responded. I may have said "Fuck you," but I may have said "Aunt Joan has my address. Call first."

I guess I'll find out.

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Hope you enjoyed reading these adventures as much as I enjoyed writing them! Feedback is greatly appreciated. I may eventually write further encounters between these cousins, if there's interest. Until then, cheers!