My Sister's Wedding Pt. 04

It was the day of my sister's wedding, and my cousin was giving me trouble. But this wasn't immediately after my increasingly disturbing experience with my disturbingly hot priest. This was after I had walked a couple of miles in my tight new pants. I had thought and speculated, chosen a flower at random and was staring at it intently, trying to figure it out.

Everybody keeps rubbing at their heads, I thought and did the same. To get the feeling of it.

I kept walking. From my position I could see the wedding guests going back and forth, with tall glasses in their hands, waiting for everything to start. More people made their way to the church.

Everybody keeps rubbing at their heads, I thought again, and then they want to have sex with me.

I stopped walking.

"And they want to have sex with me," I said out loud, really loud.

I started to think about my sister's friends, all attractive like her, and the groom's, likewise. I could fuck anybody I wanted! My cock, mishandled, used, stirred in my tight pants. They hid nothing.

With a mission from the reptilian brain, I walked down the hill, trying to prioritize, to choose wisely. I didn't have enough time suddenly, when I thought about the tight brunette, the handsome black-haired one, this incredibly hot middle-aged woman who already looked at me like she wanted to eat my pants for brunch. Finally, I picked one at random, a tall and skinny red-head, with freckled, pale hands I could imagine doing all kinds of dirty things, delicately.

I knew whatever it was needed privacy, so I asked her to follow me a little bit. I made up something about chairs, and soon I found myself alone with her in an empty storage room.

"What is it you want?" she asked me.

Waiting for the magic to kick in I gazed around. She grew increasingly frustrated.

"You're the bride's brother, right?" she asked, delicate arms crossed over her chest.

"That's right," I said with a friendly smile. I held it too long, I knew, but didn't know what else to do.

"Creep," she said and walked away, leaving me in the empty storage room. Soon I heard her talking among her friends, laughing.

I kicked at some rubble, missed, and fell on the floor. As I lay there groaning, I saw my mother's face in the doorway, and I thought, Mamma Mia! Here we go again.

But even though she looked at me funnily, licking at her lips, like she remembered the sweet taste of Italian meringue, she didn't throw herself all over me.

"Here you are!" she said, but not really to me, and my aunt walked in with her. "We looked all over for you."

"Why?" I asked and picked myself off the ground, self-consciously. My aunt gave me looks, weird looks, behind her glasses.

My aunt, for the ones of you that doesn't know her, is a clerk by trade and a librarian by vocation, always dressing stylishly but conservatively, pin-striped skirt and flowery top. The liveliest part of her is her eyes, and her eyelashes looked especially lovely this day.

"Your cousin wants you," my mom said.

"My cousin!" I almost screamed.

"Yes," she said, looking at my aunt, shaking her head. "Where did you think all the chairs went?"

I shrugged my shoulders. "I don't know."

She laughed and gave me a hug. My aunt also laughed and gave me a hug. I stood with two pairs of familiar arms and legs and breasts pressed against my body, smelling nice hair and perfume. And I wouldn't have noticed before today, but it wasn't all innocence. My aunt stayed behind a little too long, stroking my back. My mother kissed my cheek like a really affectionate mother of a friend, that leaves you confused inside. They stayed like that, a little too close for my tight pants, and led me between groups of people to the back-entrance of the locale of the wedding feast.

Inside, my cousin was setting up the chairs, all by herself. If my aunt looked like a librarian, my cousin looked a bit like her, but with tweed instead of pin-stripe. She was tight, was my cousin. I always thought she was a lesbian, at least a little bit. She looked too cool to be anything but. The suit even came with a matching vest and a bowtie. Like her mother she wore glasses, with waves of dirt-blonde hair behind her ears.

"There he is," she said. "My dear cousin."

"Yes, we found him eventually," my mother said. "He was hiding."

"I wasn't," I said. They didn't believe me, and I didn't submit to court the evidence of my rape. My mother and aunt left us and closed the door behind them.

"So, cousin," my cousin said, giving me a friendly look, but stopping at crotch-level. I didn't blame her. A lot was going on down there. "Ready to get up -- I mean, set up some furniture?"

At first, I was surprised, even after the red-head. Really? I wanted to ask. But then I nodded, somewhat relieved. I could hide in here with my 20-ish something cousin and try my experiment again later. I picked up a couple of chairs.

"Wait!" she said.

"Oh, sorry, I didn't..." I didn't finish. She was looking at me, giving me a hard stare, scaring me. "What's going on?"

"You!" she said, still scary. She held a chair under each arm. "I smelled some magic but thought it was the..." She dropped the chairs on the floor. I flinched. "Oh, no, no, oh, fuck, what did you do?"

"Do?" I looked around. "Didn't do anything?"

"Don't lie to me," she said, coming closer. "So, you haven't encroached on a magical, all-female ritual these last couple of days?" She closed her eyes, rubbing at her temple, frowning. "I knew there was something wrong, we did everything right, didn't work." She opened her eyes again. I saw sparks in there. "Because of you."

"I couldn't say," I said, backing away from her. I still held the chairs in front of me.

"It was supposed to give everybody there a nice couple of weeks, increase their stamina, make them irresistible to the sex of their choice. Nothing more."

"Sounds good," I said.

"You have no idea," she said. "But if a man interrupts it..."

I swallowed. "What?"

"He's cursed."

A gust of wind threw the door open. My cousin quickly went to close it, locking the door. When she walked back to me she didn't even try to hide her hatred. She did try to hide her lust though. But I saw it. I was used to it by now.

"Have you experienced anything weird today?" she asked.

"Well... That depends."

"Like your mother wanting to have sex with you?"

"In that case..."

"Fuck!" she screamed. "Schmuck! What have you done? Any man who interrupts she secret ritual of Diana is cursed --" The wind blew again, rattling the windows. "-- to be assaulted, raped, by anybody that is forbidden. They will feel themselves compelled to..."

She hadn't noticed it herself, but while she was speaking she had taken the chairs away from me, put them on the floor, then started to caress my chest, unbuttoning a few of the buttons underneath my tie, meanwhile rubbing at her temple. When she noticed she jumped away from me, tore her hand from the side of her head.

"You bastard!" she said. "You chicken-shit bastard! Like I would ever have sex with you!"

"Why, what's wrong with me?"

"You're my cousin, you sick fuck?"

"Oh..."

"I can start feeling it, like it would be normal to do all kinds of things all of a sudden. But I -- Damn it, I won't give in that easy, I won't lose control. I will..."

She raised her hand in the air, started to chant some strange, unhearable words, like really low-Hz soundwaves. The room blurred, only she and I remained solid. Everything went completely silent, except for our bodies, her heavy breathing. She was sweating.

"That's the best I can do," she said.

"So, nothing will happen, right?" I tried to sound disappointed.

"Oh, yes it will, but on my terms. The only difference is that I won't turn into a sex-starved slut. And I will not make it easy for you. All you have to do is cum. That will break the spell temporarily, and then I will stay the fuck away from you."

I couldn't help it. I got a hard-on. So, I rubbed at my crotch to change the position into something more tolerable.

"I know you can't help it," she said, "but you still disgust me."

I gasped. "Can't help it?"

"You thought...? No, it's all part of the spell. You can't help yourself. Like a piece of meat." She looked me over from top to bottom. She was right, she didn't look like my mom when it came over her, but she wasn't herself either. She looked dangerous. She mumbled. "I should have let my mom do this, with the fucking chairs. She already wants to fuck you."

"What did you say?"

She gasped in disbelief. "I didn't even know I knew that! I must have... somehow. The way she looks at you, touches you, smile. When I heard her in her room at night, after you came to visit. I didn't think..."

"Really?" I asked, blushing, growing painfully hard in my pants. If anybody else would have seen me then they would've thought that I needed to pee, badly.

She looked me in the eyes. "What are you waiting for? Take your dick out."

The way she was looking at me, secure, angry, but horny, made me flush with heat. But to tell the truth, it was a relief to release my cock from the tight confines of the priest's boy's pants. When I hesitated, my hand hovering over that red, pulsating flesh, she nodded. And when I couldn't help myself any longer, she moaned, just a little bit. She bit her lower lip to hide it.

"You should be scared, cousin," she said, keeping her eyes on my throbbing cock. "I know what she's into. We share the same computer. Don't find yourself alone with her. There's a thin veneer holding everything back. This thing would crack it. She likes to see younger men suffer, and they all look like you. I realize that now." She saw me hesitate. "Keep going," she said.

I obeyed her. It was the easiest thing to do. My tongue was hanging outside my mouth.

She continued to speak, dreamily, never lifting her gaze. She liked what she was seeing, and even though she didn't notice I saw her hand going to her belt, unbuckling it and unbuttoning her pants. As she spoke, she opened herself up, started to stroke her pussy underneath her cherry-pink panties. The sight of her enjoying herself made it easier to jerk off in front of her, made it less humiliating, barely. And I desperately needed to cum again.

"Once I hid in her closet," she said. "I wanted to know how she did it. So, after one time I told her I was leaving for a couple of hours, visiting some friends. I took my car, parked it some way off, hitched a ride back.

When I came home, I hid as fast as I could. She'd said she was going shopping. But she lied."

Shuddering, she finally looked at me, but she couldn't see me, not really. Not through her lustful haze.

"He looked just like you, cousin, a young man. I never knew where she found him, but now I do. She paid for him. Something about that time must have turned her on for real. I remember it was summer, you had your baby-blue shorts on. You looked so young for a twenty-year old. So did he, the man she brought home with her, straight to her bedroom. She had a strap-on, and she used it on him, making him scream. It was double-ended. She screamed too. They didn't scream the same way though. I remember, she called him by your name, making him you as she fucked him hard in the ass, never stopping until she came for the third time. It was so hot in the closet.

Afterwards she let him lick her all clean, and somehow, he made his own way home. And I watched her put herself together, putting her make-up on, her clothes. Just a few minutes and you wouldn't have suspected a thing.

I don't think she knows it, but she's a witch too. I was 18, horny as fuck, but I never remember what happened until just now."

The way she said it almost made me cum in my hand. I could smell her sweet pussy. I wanted to crawl towards her, sniffing her wet snatch, see it, lick it. I wanted my cousin to own me like my aunt had owned that prostitute. I couldn't think clearly.

"Stop," she said, pulling the hand out of her panties.

"What?" I croaked. I was on the edge.

"You're doing it wrong," she said, coming closer.

By sheer force of will I released my cock before I ejaculated all over her tweed-covered body. She walked until it was standing like a bridge between us. She looked me in the eyes and cupped my chin with her small but powerful hand.

"Spit," she commanded.

She needn't have. I was drooling, and she collected a handful of it. Then she started to stroke me, mixing spit with precum, not ignoring a single part of the hard length of my cock, cupping my balls when she wanted, squeezing them, making me quiver.

She picked up one of the chairs, sat it on its legs, and sat herself down on it, leading me closer by a tug on my cock. I was already on my knees when she nodded. She smiled like a queen.

"Take my shoes off," she said, and I did, pulling the stiff Doctor Martens off one by one, putting her socks on top of them. Suddenly, inevitably, she started to stroke my wet cock with her bare feet, and meanwhile she unbuttoned her pants completely and begun to pleasure herself again, showing a tuft of pubic hair above the panty line as the force pushed them down. She was soaking wet, filling my nose with the smell of her.

"On the computer," she said, "all the crying faces. All like you. Sweet."

She had a way of putting the shiny ball of her foot on my cockhead and sliding, stroking me with her curled toes on the way down, finally pressing her heel against my balls, making me blink and whisper, "Please, please..." before she started all over again, with the other foot.

She kept me close to the edge, pushed me closer, before using pain to make me hold on, just for another stroke of her feet.

Then she pressed my cock against my belly, making me scream with her. She came with a soft bubbling sound, the smell of wet wool.

"I hate you," she moaned, "so fucking hate you. I wonder what would happen if I forced you together, my mom and you. I wonder if I could watch, you motherfucker, if it would work, you --"

She clenched her teeth as another orgasm hit her, and her hard and uneven movements with both of her feet pushed me over the edge. Luckily, my cock was pointing away from me at that moment. Otherwise, I would've ruined my shirt.

"Get the fuck away from me," she said, slumped against the chair, her heaving chest constricted by the vest. "I won't stay in control if you stay."

I put my still leaking cock in my pants, dragged my shoe over the place where I had left my mark, and turning back just to keep the sight of her in my memories I hobbled to the door. Pain radiated from my crotch, taking the place of the pleasure as it was leaving me. I could almost see it in the air, leaving me, before I reached the door and opened it, only to experience the world again. I must have left my cousin's magic field.

In the open, I started to get afraid of the things she had told me about my aunt. I had had my own private fantasies about her over the years but nothing like that. Likewise, I was worried, in my confused state, that I would walk into a place where I was alone with someone without noticing it. Taboo could mean a lot of things.

Shit, I thought, my grandmother was here somewhere.

Rushing to where I could hear people talking, I wiped the tears from my eyes until I stood blinking in front of a couple that I could recognize by scent alone.

"Done already?" my mother asked me with a smile. My aunt stood next to her, with an even broader grin. "Then maybe you could help us out?"

"With what?" I asked, sweating profusely, wanting a drink, feeling myself getting stickier in my underwear every second. But I was ready to try anything to get away from this.

"I wondered," said my aunt, taking a step towards me, putting a smooth hand on my bicep, "if you could help me with something."

"It's like this," my mother said. "We forgot to buy something for the straight edgers, and your aunt said she could do it, but I didn't want to send her off on her own."

"I said I could manage," my aunt continued, pressing my shivering flesh with her fingers, "but I don't mind the company."

"You don't mind, do you?" my mother asked me.

"I..." I said, freezing.

My mother leaned closer to my aunt's ear, whispering something that made her giggle. My aunt beat her beautiful eyelashes at me.

"Please?" she said.