Grapes of Eros: Cousinly Vintage

Grapes of Eros: Cousinly Vintage

     Rowena says, “How do you like me in my barmaid outfit?”
     I reply, “It looks more like a French maid get up. But yes, I like it very much.”
     Ro says, “Just imagine you missed your flight and I’m your bar girl there to keep your mind on my legs and off business.”
     “Oops, I dropped my wallet between the couch pillows. Oh man, it’s stuck deep down in the frame. Damn. The fixes I get in. I need my ID for the blues concert at the bar tonight. I don’t want to let you down Rowena” I say.
     “Cousin let me help you. You look like you could use a hand.”
     “I’ll leave it to you the expert. My hands are so burly I can’t reach down there.”
     “No problem Johnny. Ah, I think I’ve snagged it. There you go.”
     “Rowena, I notice you’re still kneeling on the floor. Your skirt is riding up. But I’m not
complaining.”
     “I always knew you liked my figure. You’ve been ogling me since you were sixteen. Now you’re eighteen. But alas we’re still second cousins. What can we do about that?”
     I answer, “I know. We come from the same family. But maybe an innocent kiss wouldn’t hurt? What do you think?”
     She says, “Dear one I was hoping you’d say that. Now I’ll stand up. You can watch me if you like. I don’t mind. Never have.”
     “I’ll help you up. Hold my hands. There you go.”
     She says, “Let me catch my breath. Now, do you really think a kiss is ok? I mean a kiss on the lips. A big wet one. I can’t wait for your answer.”
     I peer into her eyes which are warm and inviting. She welcomes me into her womanly aura. She reaches out to me with open hands and heart.  The touch of our lips, soft as rose petals, sparks us at contact. Rowena grabs me by the hair and makes love to my mouth with her tongue. I push my tongue past her lips in a dance of French kissing love. After several minutes we reluctantly separate
with heated gasps.    
     “Did you feel that? Boy, we made electricity.”
     I endear her. “Well, I’m your huckleberry. You were my first.”
     She whispers, “I’m glad my first was with you. I always wanted my first to be with a boy like you.”
     I say, “I confess I always wanted to kiss you.”
     She gasps, “Man Johnny you were good. How did it feel to kiss your cousin?”
     I say, “You felt creamy and citrusy like my first taste of lemon meringue pie.”
     “With homemade lemon custard made from scratch by Mom,” she asserts.
     “You are a dish, your Mum’s masterpiece,” I say. She bobs a curtsey to me.
     She entices me. “Should we do it again?”
     I reply, “I think so. The first time was just a trial run. I think we should do it again to get a good taste for how it feels.”
     She challenges, “First, let’s eat tangerines. Our kiss will be savory. Pucker up cuz. I’m ready for you.”    
     She casts her velvet fury upon me with her glossy lips. Like a slice of orange, she penetrates my mouth with her tangy tongue. Her taste splashes into me like freshly squeezed satsumas.
     “How did my kiss feel?”
     I say, “When you made love to me with your tongue, your licks were spiced with a mélange of female flavors. The lurid sensations set me free to relish your opulence.”
     “Your kiss tasted like rainbow sherbet melting in my mouth” she attests.
     Her idea is born. “Now, let’s take a nap together. We won’t get undressed or anything. We don’t even have to touch.”
     I say, “Your bed is comfortable.”
     She instigates, “We’ll sleep in the spoon position, just without touching. You face my back. Ah, I can feel your body heat so close. How I’d like to feel you against me but we have to remember we’re related by blood.”
     Rowena’s golden curls are illuminated by late afternoon sunshine and splash in splendor across her silk pillow like an angel’s halo.
     I succumb, “I can smell the scent of your perfume. Lavender if I’m not mistaken.”
     She teases, “I wore it for you. And don’t tell anyone we did this. Papa would send me back to finishing school if he found out. Then I’d never see you again. But we’re both eighteen and adults. What the family doesn’t know won’t hurt them. Now be quiet and sleep.”
     Later she rouses me. “Are you awake Johnny? You are breathing deeply. Were you having a wicked dream?”
     I admit, “In my slumber, you were pantiless and panting.”
     She discloses, “That’s a head trip of mine too. Would you like too?”
     I act startled. “You mean here on this bed?”
     “Where else darling cousin?”
     I protest, “We really shouldn’t.”
     Rowena sticks her tongue out. “That’s what makes it exciting. It is taboo, wicked, and very naughty.”  
     Rowena lifts up her hips and pulls her dress up to her waist. I gaze hungrily at her. She slinks her undies down her thighs and bares her pubis to me. I lick my lips. She wriggles her cotton down her thighs and ankles. She rolls with her luscious ivory derriere licked by ribbons of sun warmth. She presses her sweet nothings into her sinuous pear-shaped curve of hips where they arc softly into her valley of secrets.
     I feel the surge of strange desires immersed in her sensual aura and my hand finds its home.
     “Hey, don’t jack your beanstalk in front of me. My virgin eyes aren’t ready to see that, yet. But the day is dawning when something as natural as a man pleasuring himself will bring me joy.” Rowena lets her fingernails lightly graze my zipper.
     “Does that feel good Johnny? Remember to wait until you are alone to finish what I started. Mom would have sent me to the pastoral counselor long ago if she caught me red-handed. Can you imagine me having to confess my urges to that old man? He’d take more than a professional interest in my fantasies if I know men.”
     Her body wrestles with an imaginary anaconda. Her hands press into her pubis like a maiden frantically tucking in her dress out of modesty.
     Her beseeching expression is one of a desperate need for male guidance. She says, “Teach me what it means to be a woman. Spank me until my bottom turns pink like the first blush of dawn.” The stimulation of my hands upon her is designed to open her pores to breathe.
     Her muscles ripple in sweet undulation upon the bed and our eyes lock. Upon her earthy moan, she screams my name into the vat of genetic memory. She sinks her sweaty buttocks into the mattress with euphoria written in her glazed eyes. A smile glows on her face.
     I say, “Hey no fair. When do I get my turn?”
     She replies, “I always was a cock tease. Back at the Catholic school, I did toe touches in the hallway. Lust is a mortal sin. The boys would struggle mightily to look the other way but ultimately succumbed.”
     “I was one of those boys who got caught in your web of seduction.”
     “I know. On my downward dip, I looked between my legs at you.”
     “Oh my God, have mercy on my soul for I have sinned!”
     Shocked, she says, “My God, what did we do?”
     I have a guilty look in my eyes. “I can’t believe we did this together. You’re my cousin.”
     She replies, “Remember marriage between second cousins is legal in all fifty states.”
     I say, “In fact, Biblical scholars find evidence that Mary was the daughter of Jacob, and Joseph was the son of Jacob’s brother. Mary and Joseph were, therefore, first cousins.”
     “But Joseph didn’t make love to Mary. In fact, he was a virgin.”
     I laugh, “If you believe Joseph didn’t sleep with Mary I’ve got some oceanfront property in Arizona to sell you.”
     “Well, maybe he had experiences before tying the knot with Mary. But once hitched he was celibate except for that one seminal act of impregnating Mary. God gave them his green light to make whoopee without sin, so Jesus and the whole Christian shebang could be born” she sermonizes.
     “Brilliant! But honey God doesn’t play favorites. Cousins don’t have to be the parents of Jesus to wed. Nowhere in scripture is a marriage between cousins prohibited.”
     Her gasp peters out. “That is reassuring. If I ever get married I want him to be a man like you.”
     I propose, “Let’s get married.”
     “You little devil. Ma and Pa would disown me.”
     “Besides that, we are birds of a family feather. The potential for birth defects is there.”
     “Oh Johnny, even nestlings hatched from the same nest make beautiful babies together. There is only a two percent greater risk with people as far apart as us on the kinship tree. But Mom will be home in an hour. What do we do now?”
     I instruct, “Well, let me keep your panties. No matter what woman wears them for me on my lonely nights in the city she will be you to me.”
     “I don’t know whether to spank you or hug you. But going with my first instinct has proven best. Oh no, you’ll dress your girlfriend in them?! This cloth is sacred. How could you? Though you’ll like it, I’ll spank you anyway. It is my primal urge which pent up could make me bite you.”
     “Well, hickey my dickey.”
     “Even I am not that cruel. Now get over my lap bucko.”