My Cousin's Insatiability Ch. 03

Before we left, I pulled her close to whisper, "Different cars, okay?" She nodded in understanding. "You got the address?"

"Yeah, I got it," she answered, patting her pocket containing her phone. She looked around as if to see if anyone was around then suddenly pulled me close to give me a passionate kiss. I grunted unexpectedly but then kissed back, pushing my tongue across our locked lips. With exceedingly unusual self-restraint, Grace drew away, licking her lips and grinning. "I'll see you there," she said before walking to her vehicle.

I wobbly walked to my car, still hazed and turned on by the wild kiss but reminded myself of what I was going to do for today. I slipped into my car seat, punched in the address on my phone's GPS, started the engine and pulled out onto the road, following the GPS directions given to me by the program. I glanced at the rearview mirror and was satisfied to see Grace's car a couple of streets behind, following mine.

Things had been crazy since we began this fuck-buddy relationship where we always find the time for sex but always out of sight and away from the prying eyes and ears of Grace's parents and anyone else. At first, I wanted to take this relationship slowly. Only have sex at hotels or when her parents weren't home just out of caution of her family finding out. That didn't last long when one day, after brushing my teeth and changing into night clothes, I found Grace's room, whom I shared with for months, locked and I had to knock on the door for her to open. When it did open, a pair of hands seized me and Grace, fully naked, grabbed ahold of me inside to beg me to have my way with her and my logic would just abandon me.

So now it did not matter whether the sex would be in the mornings, at nights, or on weekend trysts at hotels. If we were going to hotels, I had to make reservations, which was easy enough as it was. At my uncle's house though, it was a different story. In the mornings or nights, if Grace was moaning too loud, I had to either cover her mouth with my hand, kiss her or shove her face into the pillows from letting her parents know I was fucking their daughter. Grace did not seem to care since it made her feel like being controlled by a man and turned her on more. And I had to admit, it turned me on too, dominating someone so slutty, despite knowing she was family. But no matter where we would go to fuck, we would ravage each other until our bodies were sore, our breathing was short, and our lust was temporarily satisfied. And our lust seemed to have no end.

This relationship wasn't necessarily a master-sex slave dynamic or even a fuck toy-owner duet, even though Grace loved it when I called her my fuck toy and manhandled her like a doll and only when she asked me to, which was all the time. It made her feel like those girls in her hardcore porn videos on her laptop. This was more like a cock-craving girl starving for sex who decided to latch onto a guy to quench her desire, and that guy was me. I didn't know it before, but I realized now just how much of a pussy I was for not taking on this relationship seriously in the first place. Whatever misgivings I had before on having an incest relationship with my cousin was growing smaller with each day of fucking that passes. So now, Grace finally found someone who could make her feel like those whores in her stash of porn videos and I no longer have to bottle up my guilty desire for my curvaceous cousin.

Ever since then, I had to modify my plans on moving out. It was going to happen, sooner or later, but now it was going to have to be the former so Grace and I could have a place to ourselves instead of fucking behind her parents' backs and hiding in random hotels. Instead of only factoring in pricing and work distance, I was also factoring in the presence of very thick doors and soundproof walls so that no sound of my fuck sessions would escape. That forced me to lengthen my plan of moving out of my relatives' home and multiplied the time I spent searching for the ideal apartment, asking various landlords a large assortment of questions, including the important ones disguised as harmless tenant questions. As my grandfather used to say during his time in real estate, "People selling or renting their property only tell you what you like to hear. You have to give them the third degree to see if they're leaving anything out."

So I asked the landlords many questions about their apartments. I may have friends coming over. Is that allowed? Grace would no doubt be coming over almost every day to have sex.

I like to exercise. If I do, can any of the neighbors above, below, or next to me hear? I didn't want the neighbors to listen in on me banging Grace hard against the bed. Or against the wall.

I like to watch movies at high volumes. How thick are the walls? More often than not, Grace moaned too loud and the last thing I needed was neighbors hearing us.

The answers I received were either unsatisfactory or did not flat-out make my quota. Even when their answers were to my liking, I had to examine the apartment personally to see if it met my expectations and most of the time it did not. The process was exhausting, but I was finally able to find a decent apartment at a moderate rent price after countless days of searching for a place away for me and Grace to have to ourselves without her family nearby. All I needed was basic furniture to complete my new home.

But furniture was the last thing on my mind.

On the road, I followed the GPS directions, exiting the suburbs and moving into a shopping district close to the beachfront. Close enough that I could hear the waves and the seagulls cawing in their morning routine. There was no individual parking lot. If one wanted to park in front of the store they wanted, they would have to parallel park, but many of the spots were already packed with cars. I glanced at the rearview mirror to find no sight of Grace's vehicle, but I wasn't worried. Even if she was lost, she still had the address I gave her. And I had a feeling she was anxious to get there first anyway.

Thankfully, I found an empty parking spot some distance from my destination. I turned off the engine, pulled out a couple of things from my glove compartment, climbed out to set my car alarm, and walked down past stores that were open, although they weren't seeing many customers since it was still morning and people were probably still sleeping in. Some stores sell beach gear, boat accessories, gift souvenirs for tourists and toys, such as frisbees and plastic scoops, for kids to buy and enjoy their day on the beach. But there was one store I was looking for. The closest one I could search for that sold what Grace and I needed.

I was surprised to find Grace to be the first one there, staring at the building where the shop was. She turned to me to ask, "Is this it?" It was a stand-alone white stucco building. Mannequins were out on display at the windows wearing all kinds of provocative clothing of all colors, such as thin lingerie, tight corsets, strappy teddies and skimpy garter slips. The sign above read out Love in Paradise in stark red cursive letters. At first glance, one might think it was just a typical women's shop.

When in reality, it was a sex shop inside.

"Yeah, this is it," I replied.

Grace looked back at it in mild wonder. I didn't think Grace half-believed she was about to enter a sex shop without her parents knowing. Women's clothing stores were entirely different from sex shops. She was probably tittering at the idea from the way her eyes were twinkling with excitement. But she stood on the sidewalk, not attempting to move inside immediately like I thought she would.

"You nervous?" I asked.

"Well, yeah, dummy. I've never been in one of these, obviously," Grace protested. She stared at me. "Have you been in one before?"

"Obviously," I told her sarcastically. "When I had to buy lube for other girls. Where else was I going to buy some lube? The olive oil at the supermarket?"

"Won't they recognize us?" she asked, anxious.

I raised an eyebrow at her. "You never said that when we went to hotels for our regular... sessions."

"That's a hotel," she countered. "Anyone can go inside them. Who goes into sex shops except...?"

"Dirty perverts and insatiable fuck toys?" I finished for her.

Grace blushed but she nodded.

"Relax," I said. I showed her what was in my hand. Two XL-sized New York Yankees baseball caps from my old hometown. I slapped one on top of Grace's head, covering her scalp and her dirty blonde hair, except for the strands touching her shoulders.

"Is that better?" I asked, putting on my hat. "I did this back in New York. I wouldn't want to be recognized and judged either."

Grace adjusted it to make it more comfortable, her pale blue eyes peaking under the brim. "Why do you have two hats? You only need one for yourself." She cocked her head. "Was it for some other girl besides me?"

I rubbed the back of my neck. "There were plenty of other girls besides you, back in New York. I've told you that before. But that doesn't matter. I have you and you have me."

"Was it a girlfriend?" Grace pressed.

"Not really. Just another nymphomaniac, like you," I replied, and received a playful kick to my shin for that comment. "You ready?"

Grace looked to be bursting with eagerness. "Let's go then," Grace said, tugging my arm hurriedly into the shop.

The cashier at the front was a middle-aged balding man playing on his phone with hair that was in its beginning stages of greying and balding. His bored expression lit up when he saw the sight of Grace in her halter top and jean shorts showing a lot of skin. His smile died when he caught me giving him a look akin to a fist flying at his face.

"Come on," I told Grace, keeping an eye on the cashier who went back to playing on his phone, but kept stealing glances. "We don't need much. Let's just get the stuff and go."

Grace looked at the store's products in wide-eyed curiosity. "Can't we look around first?" she asked.

"Why?" I asked. "We just need a couple of things and that's it."

Grace pouted. "That doesn't mean we're on a timeline. I'm in no rush either." She pressed her body against my arm, rubbing her boobs against my muscle. She had to stand on her tiptoes to talk close to my ear. "I'll make it up to you later if you let me."

I know you will. When she put it like that, I had to say yes.

The store had all sorts of products in the interest of spicing things up. Lingerie, corsets and gowns of all shapes, sizes and colors left a lot to the imagination. For something more exciting, there were also cosplay costumes -such as cops, bank robbers, and nurses - for gimmicks and holidays, like Christmas, Halloween and Valentine's Day. Then there were even the kinkier products of whips, ball gags, floggers and handcuffs. Just the sight of them stirred something dangerous inside.

But we only needed two essentials. A butt plug and a bottle of lube. The lube was not a problem to choose from. Any type of lube would do as long as it works and would be as slippery as hell. On the other hand, the butt plug was the more serious choice. In the past when I failed at anal sex, it was because I rushed too much on shoving my massive dick in an asshole, even with lube. So, I figured by taking it slow and loosening Grace's asshole with a toy first just enough for my cock's entry to be smoother on her anus, it would make it easier and less painful on her end.

The anal plug was something I left for Grace to choose because it was her asshole she was asking me to take. My cousin stared at shelves in slight awe, touching each box with her fingertips as if those items were sacred. She searched for the right butt plug that came in numerous shapes and sizes. Some were large, some were small, some were made out of clear plastic, some were metal, and others were silicone. Sometimes she would take one off the shelf, look at the box, ponder how it would feel inside anally, and, if she wasn't satisfied with it, put it back where it came from.

In the end, she chose a red butt plug with a length of a thumb, about five inches with a ring attached at the end of the toy for easy removal. But the thickness was what surprised me that they would manufacture something of that girth similar but larger than the wideness of a banana. She frivolously handed it to me along with the lube and I looked quizzically at her. "That's pretty big. You're sure this is what you want?" I asked. "Because this is going to be your first time."

"I'm sure," she said confidently. "Besides we can always go back for more."

Back at the front counter, the cashier kept giving shameless glances at Grace's wide cleavage as he counted the money that I handed to him, wishing he hurry up. He put the items in a plastic bag and passed them to me. "Have a nice day," he said in a bored tone.

"You too," I replied stiffly.

"Excuse me," Grace began. "Is there a restroom I can borrow?"

The cashier smiled as if a beautiful, busty girl talking to him was the best thing in his life. It probably was. "Yeah, in the far back, to your left."

"Thank you," she replied politely, tugging my arm. "Come on."

She pulled me away and I glanced back at the cashier whose jealousy was clear on his face. I could only wonder how he would react if he knew Grace and I were related. "What are we doing?" I asked, though I already had a few ideas on what it might be.

She didn't answer right away. She just gave me a sly look as she walked us into a dimly lit hallway. At the door to the women's restroom, she said, "I want it in. Now."

My heartbeat quickened at her words and my cock somehow grew harder than it was before. "Sex? Now?" I said in disbelief.

She held up the bag of items. "No, silly. I meant these. If I want your big dick in my ass, I need to train my hole as quickly as possible."

"You're not worried about that cashier guy?"

Grace shook her head. "Who cares anymore? Even with our hats on, he saw us. I don't think it matters now. The only thing that matters is putting this toy where it's going to be useful."

Without letting me respond, she pulled me inside before I could state the moot fact that I was a guy entering a woman's restroom. She flipped the lock to the restroom door and jiggle the door handle to make sure it was locked properly. That act had also become a habit of ours since we were almost always having sex in her bedroom. I appreciated that more than she thinks. It would have scared me to death for other women to find a man putting a toy in a teenager in the women's restroom.

"So, what do I need to do?" Grace inquired, taking her hat off and holding up the items. Relenting, I took my hat off, took her hat from her hand, and set them down on top of the towel dispenser. Then I took the bag from her hand, removed the recently purchased lube and toy from the bag and put them on the floor. "What are you doing?" she said with an edge of frustration, watching me bunch up the bag and throw it into the trash can.

"Turn around and bend over the sink," I told her without an explanation. She pouted at me, impatience and desire clear on her face. But one look at my face, which was demanding no argument, and Grace was following my instructions. With her hands on the sink, she bent forward until her body was at a right angle from the sink to the floor, her ass high in the air. I knelt behind her legs and pulled her jean shorts down by the hem.

Wiggling her ass, she begged, "Put it in, hurry!"

I slapped her ass, making her squeal. "Don't be in a rush," I scolded as if she was a child. "It takes time." I tugged the shorts down until it was bunched up around her ankles. I took the first item, the lube, popped open the cap, peeled back the thin plastic covering the bottle's hole and squirted a small amount on my fingers to start with.

"Pull apart your ass for me," I ordered her. When she did, her puckered hole with a slightly rosy hue was in full view. Grace was holding her breath in tense expectation with all sorts of naughty ideas in her mind of how her ass would feel being played, lubed and fucked for the first time.

She gasped softly when my lubed fingers traced the outline of her puckered hole, slowly probing and moving in little by little without letting myself just shove those fingers out of restlessness. Seconds seemed to turn into eternity until Grace gasped again, this time louder, when the first knuckles of my fingers, finally, entered into her anal hole.

"More, more," she pleaded.

I slapped her ass again and she yelped. "Just let me do it. Don't move," I told her. "I'm not going to put it in if you move."

She stood as still and stayed as quiet as she could, but she was still quivering with exhilaration. Instead, she was focusing on fingering her pussy underneath her with her one hand, her face's cheek pressing hard against the sink. The second knuckle of my finger went in, and I began pulling it back and forth deliberately, gaining speed each time I was assured she would be able to take it. Her ass was like a vice around my finger, the walls of her anal hole naturally constricting around my finger as if Grace didn't want it out. My cousin was gripping the sink, her head turned back to see me fucking her asshole with just one finger. The further I went, the faster she masturbated her pussy.

When I was confident enough, I pulled out my finger, saying, "Alright, let's do this." I picked up the toy, tore open the box, took the item out and squirted copious amounts of lube onto the anal plug so it could penetrate smoothly. The tip of the plug touched her asshole and she bit her lip.

"Hurry, hurry," she said, pushing her ass back to try to put it in herself. I pushed the anal plug in further, looking with slight amazement as Grace's asshole began to accommodate wider and wider to the thickness of the anal plug. Her breaths grew ragged and sharper, but she said nothing except moan as I pulled the plug back and forth, back and forth as it went deeper into her insides.

As soon the base of the anal plug touched her ass, at last, the toy was fully inside. "Fucking God," she breathed. "It's in. My God, I feel so full already."

I scoffed. "Sure. Until my cock is inches into this." I gave her ass one final slap in emphasis. Grace twirled around and kissed me, pulling onto my shirt as her tongue went deeper into my mouth. Her hand rubbed the hard bulge in my shorts, and she pushed her naked crotch against mine. For a moment, I thought I could feel her pussy juices dirtying my pants.

Then I slowly pulled her off of me. "Don't be greedy," I admonished her. "Wait until tomorrow."

She made a face. "What? But that's too long!"

"Got to let that toy stretch you out real good, remember? If it doesn't, it's going to hurt you a lot. This is no joke."

"It's still too long," she complained.

My hand wrapped itself around her throat. I didn't squeeze or apply any pressure but just the feeling of my fingers around her windpipe was enough for her eyes to widen and her breathing to become faster. "Who's the fuck toy?" I asked.

"What?" she breathed.

"Who's the fuck toy here?" I asked again.

She took a deep breath before answering, "Me."

"And who do you belong to?"

"You."

I smiled, letting go of her throat. "Good. So, if I say tomorrow, we're doing it tomorrow."

"Tomorrow? You're not coming home?"

"I'm going to be out shopping for furniture. I'll be so busy that I won't be able to come home tonight. I'll be spending the night at my new apartment." I shrugged. "So, I guess you'll have to settle for masturbating yourself or watching those pornos when I'm not around."

"You're teasing me," she said accusingly.

I was grinning roguishly, silently taking the guilty pleasure of seeing Grace beg. "Just be happy it's only one day. If it were up to me, I would suggest taking a whole week training your ass. A single day is me being generous to you. And making you wait is only half the fun," I said jokingly to her, stroking her cheek. I took our hats off the electric dryer and handed one back to her. "So. Tomorrow."