Perving On My Virgin Cousins

At church itself, I found it quite odd how caught up some people were during the services, standing with their eyes closed and holding out their arms when the pastor was delivering his sermon or where a band was playing. One Sunday a boy aged about 12 really lost his head, getting so overly excited by the band's newest song that he ran up onto the stage, jumping around before leaping off and given by the way he was limping afterwards, rolling an ankle in the process.

Not that I could laugh, a few years earlier I had snuck out of the house one night when grounded to go to a heavy metal concert. After some alcohol, I decided to jump off the stage where my mates would catch me and I could go crowd-surfing. Unfortunately, nobody did catch me and I hit the concrete floor, breaking several ribs and one of my thumbs and getting a concussion in the process. Mum and Dad were not impressed when the hospital called them in the middle of the night to advise that I was in the accident and emergency ward, and even less impressed when they got the bill for the ambulance that took me there.

But that was the old, immature, selfish slacker Trent, not the improved version. My behavior was A-plus in the church, in fact the only time I stuffed up was one day about a month after I arrived and the pastor was talking about how God created not only the Earth but the entire universe in six days. He mentioned how several other bodies in the solar system had been created by God at the same time. Unfortunately, one of the things he mentioned was the planet Uranus, which caused me to collapse in hysterics of laughter, attracting much attention none of it good. But I was on a journey to get better, laughing at Uranus was surely one small-slip up allowed?

Some things at the church were actually pretty cool. For example the church even had its own museum, which contained models of important biblical scenes from the Old Testament. They were so cool and so beautifully completed that I was able to suspend disbelief at seeing dinosaurs, wooly mammoths and sabre-tooth cats roaming the Garden of Eden along with animals seen today. It was a similar theme with the Noah's Ark model, where the Ark sailed on the floodwaters where plesiosaurs and trilobites swam along with fish, and dinosaurs and other prehistoric land-dwelling animals huddled together on the diminishing spots of earth ...

At first, Aunty Diane and to a greater degree Uncle Ross were skeptical and suspicious of my improvement, thinking that I was just putting on an act and sucking up to them so that they would say to my parents that I was all better and could go home to Canberra.

But this was the last thing I wanted to happen. I once overheard Aunty Diane talking to Mum on the phone, informing her older sister how well I was doing, and that I was a pleasure to have around. That night I had a dream that I got sent back home to Mum and Dad and to my old school and life in Canberra. But it was not so much a dream as a nightmare, and when I awoke in the morning I was relieved that it was in my bedroom in my aunt and uncle's house not back home with my folks.

And there would have been no need to send me back to Canberra and cause me more disruption in Year 12. I loved living in Adelaide and was happy and settled, getting good grades in school, working diligently and happily mixing with my fellow students and making lots of new friends. One thing I noticed was that the boys and girls in the church would go to places in groups rather than on their own, even students who were dating, which seemed odd to me at first.

Belinda and Cassie were good examples. Both girls had serious boyfriends, but I had never seen them go out with them for one on one dates, it was always part of a group with other couples and or single friends. Abstinence was very important to them, Belinda and Cassie wore purity rings and spoke openly about how they had taken pledges to remain virgins until marriage, and the same was true of their friends. Anything more than holding hands or a light kiss was considered sinful.

So I would often tag along with my cousins and new-found friends on days outings, such as going into the city where we would go to the famed markets, then walk through the city to the Rundle Mall where we would browse the old shopping arcades and I would admire some of Adelaide's famed artwork in the mall, like the four pig statues and the spheres or 'Malls Balls' as they were known locally, the Mount Lofty ranges visible in the distance through the tall city buildings.

Other times we would take trips on the train somewhere, go to the movies and have lunch, catch the tram to Glenelg, go on outings to the zoo, into the Adelaide Hills or to the Murray River. Bike riding along the banks of the River Torrens, or up the coast to historic Port Adelaide were also common activities with my cousins and new circle of friends, and I enjoyed going out for a game of mini-golf. I had certainly improved from the last time I played mini-golf back in Canberra with my family, and kept pissing off my sister by moving the ball when it was her turn to take her shot or acting the fool and distracting her.

As Adelaide went through autumn and May arrived with winter just a month away, I was doing really well. First my aunt and then my uncle had grown to trust me and liked having me living with them, and even the cats which were either stand-offish or outright aggressive to me when I first arrived in summer now loved me.

Compared to my lazy, dishonest and at times delinquent ways in Canberra, I had turned into a model young man anyone should be proud of. With all the hard work I had done to turn my life around, I was entitled to be proud of myself.

But I was not proud of myself. Not at all. There was nothing for me to be proud of. My deepest darkest secret prevented this.

So was my new persona all an act? No, I genuinely loved my new life and really was determined to do better in life. But I knew that behind my masquerade of studying, working hard, making new friends, getting involved at church and playing sports honestly, I was still a bad guy.

I was a wolf in sheep's clothing, an imposter among the flock of my religious family and friends. I was like the character in crime fiction who seems like a really nice buy, only he turns out to be the bad guy at the end, like a con-artist, a spy or the murderer. I didn't want to do bad things, I tried not to do bad things but couldn't resist the temptation.

So what was I doing that was so bad, that I could not ever speak to another person of? Since my arrival in South Australia, I had turned into a secret pervert, and the objects of my voyeurism were my stunningly attractive twin cousins Belinda and Cassie.

While on the very first day I had arrived I had thought to myself how hot my cousins looked, but put it down to some sort of brain malfunction on my part, perhaps caused by delayed shock at getting kicked out of home and sent to live interstate and it would soon vanish.

But the strange attraction did not end after a few hours or a few days, it continued and grew stronger with time. I would admire Belinda and Cassie's fine figures in their school uniforms, in their jeans, shorts, skirts or dresses and their nightwear -- usually an oversized tee-shirt over panties.

Prior to moving in with my aunt and uncle I had never had a foot fetish, but now I loved seeing Belinda and Cassie barefoot, especially in their nightwear. At school, I would discretely linger at the foot of the stairs as Belinda and Cassie ascended or descended, hoping to catch glimpses of the girls' knickers, which I usually did.

It was the same outside of school, on one occasion we went hiking in the hills around Mount Lofty with the church youth group and we were at the summit that provided stunning panoramic views of Adelaide. While I enjoyed the view, I enjoyed a different view even more when the laces on Belinda's left shoe and Cassie's right shoe became loose -- I think it was the mirror image twin thing -- and both girls bent over in unison to tie them.

I found it hard not to stare at the twins' wonderful bottoms, their asses looking so good in their denim shorts and the lines of their teen panties tight around their buttocks. I had a back-pack and it was lucky I did, because it came in handy to casually hold in front of my groin area and avoid any embarrassment, especially when the strap of Belinda's bra was visible on her left shoulder, and Cassie's bra strap visible on her right shoulder.

My fixation with the girls' underwear was more an obsession. Belinda and Cassie would do their laundry on Saturday mornings, and I would always make sure I was doing chores in the backyard so I could look at their bras and knickers hanging out to dry on the washing line.

As to be expected with Belinda and Cassie being fundamentalist Christians, their underwear was very conservative, bras in pastel colors -- white, pink, light blue, lemon, green, orange and lilac and their knickers -- bikini- style briefs -- matching their bras. Some of the girls' bras and knickers were pure white, but other examples of their white underwear had pretty patterns on them. Flowers of various colors, stars, polka-dots and cartoon animals. I thought maybe that being identical twins and obviously the same size that they might share their bras and knickers as they often shared clothes, but they kept their underwear separate. Belinda's bras and knickers were marked with a B on the labels, while one would find a C on the label of Cassie's bras and knickers.

I found my cousins' innocent underwear that matched their innocent, sheltered personas way hotter than the raciest lingerie, and when alone in the house I would sneak into Belinda and Cassie's bedrooms, open their underwear drawers and look at their bras and panties with a racing heartrate and throbbing erection. This was bad enough, but I would also go into the girls' dirty clothes hampers, extricate their worn knickers and look at the creamy cunt stains on the double cotton-panty saddles from the twins' vaginas self-cleansing during the day.

I would raise the dirty panties to my nose and absorb Belinda and Cassie's pussy stains, absorbing the musty feminine smells from between their legs, the girly scents of my cousins' cunts sending me into raptures. I would then sniff the back panels of the panties where they would have between Belinda and Cassie's butt cheeks and made contact with their anal areas.

Obviously not wanting to get caught sniffing my cousins' panties, I was always careful to put their knickers back in the order where I found them. If Belinda or Cassie opened their clothes hampers and found their knickers all at the top -- even knickers they wore nearly a week earlier -- they might get suspicious.

My strategy seemed to be working and I hadn't been caught. Except by the cats. One time I was getting high on the smell of Belinda's pussy on a pair of her pink knickers when the tuxedo cat came into her bedroom and stared accusingly at me. Then another day I was smelling Cassie's cunt on a pair of her light yellow knickers when the tabby cat came and glared accusingly at me, knowing I should not be in there perving on Cassie's knickers.

Sniffing 18-year-old girls' knickers and getting high on the smell of vagina was obviously undesirable behavior on my part, but I just couldn't resist it. But my panty-sniffing perversions were only the tip of a very large iceberg when it came to my voyeurism of my cousins.

Cassie, Belinda and I all shared a bathroom which contained a bath, shower, sink with vanity and a toilet, plus a large cupboard. Whenever Belinda and Cassie took a shower or bath, I would listen to the sounds of the water, imagining whichever twin was in there naked in the tub or under the warm droplets of the shower. It was the same at high school, whenever the twins took a shower after PE my mind's eye would be right there in the showers of the girls' change-room with them.

This was bad enough, but I also took to listening to the girls when they went to the toilet. The sound of Belinda or Cassie peeing into the toilet was like music to my ears. From my position in the hallway I was usually unable to hear the girls while they were pooing thanks to the closed door and exhaust fan running, but I could hear them unwinding toilet paper from the roll to wipe their bottoms. The twins were pretty fastidious about their personal hygiene when they went to the toilet, and the girls went through heaps of toilet paper during their lengthy visits to the lavatory. The sounds of the girls putting down the toilet lid and flushing the toilet when they finished was a turn on, as was the sounds of them washing their hands, changing the toilet paper on the roll holder if they happened to use the last piece and even them locking the bathroom door and turning on and off the light. What was wrong with me?

Again, when Belinda and Cassie went to the toilet at high school I would look at the closed external door that led to the forbidden girls' bathroom, imagining going in there to perve at their lowered knickers under the stall partitions or watching them on the loo over the tops of the toilet cubicles. And sometimes I got to unexpectedly indulge in voyeurism of my hot virgin cousins during their private moments on the toilet.

The same day when we went hiking in the Mount Lofty Ranges and I got a good view of the twins' asses clad in tight shorts and with hot visible panty lines, I got another treat when Belinda and Cassie needed to go to the toilet. The nearest lavatory was a short way up the path, and not exactly to the standard of the ladies' toilets one might find in a five star hotel. Not that I minded, I discretely followed my cousins saying I also needed to go to the toilet, and listened intently as the girls went into the toilets, closing and locking the doors behind themselves.

There was open space at the top of the toilets, so rather than head for the men's room I pretended I had a stiff leg muscle and stretched, while listening to the sounds of my cousins peeing and pooing on the toilets and getting loo paper to wipe their backsides, even hearing Belinda and Cassie proving that pretty girls do fart was a turn-on. When the twins finished and flushed the toilets they had been sitting on in unison, I beat a hasty retreat around the corner as they washed their hands. I was still perving from the cover of the bushes though as I watched my cousins emerge and again in unison, Belinda reached to her butt and relived a wedgie in the left cheek of her bum at the same moment that Cassie relieved a wedgie in the right cheek of her bum. With comfortable knickers, the girls continued on their way back to their friends, and my voyeurism when un-noticed.

Another day we went with the family to a national park to the south of Adelaide, and again the girls needed to go to the toilet. This time I didn't follow them as the toilets didn't look like they would enable voyeurism and in any case too many people around and I might attract suspicion.

Belinda and Cassie went in there, and to my surprise emerged just seconds later, making haste for their mother and advising Aunty Diane that there was no toilet paper in the ladies' loo. Aunty Diane quickly reached into her bag, pulled out a box of tissues and handed a big handful to each of her increasingly desperate daughters to use as their toilet paper, Belinda and Cassie thanking their mother and making haste for the toilet.

I don't know why, something about that scene just turned me on way more than any adult material I had seen, and at my first opportunity my dick was in my hands, jerking off over the memory of a scene that probably wasn't sexy to 99.9999 percent of the world's population, except for a weirdo like me.

Just like menstruation, which as a sexual fetish was quite rare. It certainly hadn't been the case when I was back at home in the ACT, the only time I thought about it was when I deliberately annoyed my sister when it was her time of the month, Lucy the PMS Queen of Canberra.

Now, I eagerly looked forward to Belinda and Cassie having their periods, as to be expected the twins' menstrual cycle synchronized to the second. I would count down the days to their time of the month, and when it arrived, I was in six days of heaven. I felt bad about perving on my cousins when they were on their periods as they were troubled by menstrual cramps, heavy flows and from the lengthy sessions both girls spent sitting on the toilet and the way the toilet paper just went and went when they were menstruating problems with their bowels too, but I could not help it.

Belinda and Cassie were mostly pads girls, and if one looked in their underwear drawers -- which I frequently did but shouldn't have as it was an obvious breach of their privacy -- then one would find an assortment of feminine hygiene products the twins used one week each month. There were regular pads they wore during the daytime, and overnight pads which they wore during the night. They had panty-liners which the two girls wore on the sixth and last day of their periods when they were spotting but didn't need the protection of a full sanitary napkin. And they had tampons which they inserted into their pussies when they had PE at high school but otherwise didn't tend to use.

The fact that the tampons were the only thing to go up the twins' virginal vaginas turned me on, as did imagining the girls sticking their pads to their panties, wrapping the wings around their panty saddles and pulling up their knickers so the pads were comfortable for their pussies to bleed into. When the girls went into the bathroom to attend to feminine hygiene requirements I imagined them changing their dirty pads and full tampons for new ones.

One month, Belinda and Cassie both had menstrual mishaps at school staining their panties in the process. At home, I looked into a bucket of cold water in the laundry and saw the twins' white knickers with blood-stained saddles soaking so that their time of the month stains did not set when they washed their underwear in the regular laundry.

Even if I wasn't the slightest bit interested in my cousins' menstrual cycles, I would have known that they were having their monthlies by some changes to the bathroom I shared with the two girls. Every four weeks there would be some changes to the bathroom. The twins' pastel colored towels would be changed for maroon ones. A stack of white flowery sanitary bags would be placed on top of the toilet cistern next to the spare toilet roll and a box of feminine wipes that also only appeared every four weeks while a bin -- a pink bin decorated with girly stickers -- would appear next to the toilet.

The bin was to spare Belinda or Cassie a trip to the outside wheelie bin when they changed their pads or tampons, and it would be filled with lots of interesting things for me to see and smell when it was my turn in the bathroom. I would extricate the twins' sanitary pads and remove the pads or tampons within each, and the blood-stained feminine wipes the girls used to clean their pussies after each change of feminine hygiene products. I would even get turned on by plastic covers of the girls' pads, and the peel-back strips and wing tabs used to attach the napkins to their knickers.

I would look at my cousins' dirty pads, amazed at the sheer volume of blood that had come out of their vaginas to be absorbed by their napkins, and on the fewer number of tampons would marvel at how much the slim, white cylinders with a string at the end would expand with menses after several hours up Belinda or Cassie's virginal teenage pussies. I would sniff the pads and tampons, and in addition to the regular female fragrances of their fannies one could smell on their pants on any day of the month, my erection would throb at the musty and fishy smells of their period blood.