SIN SO SWEET

Lena's POV Believe me, every time I smell barbecue chicken, my p***y gets wet, and I can't help it. That's how badly last Thanksgiving f****d me up, and I don’t regret it. I got f****d in the most delicious way. My cousin Peter and I have always had this…thing. We're second cousins, close enough that we grew up together and share the same inside jokes, distant enough that it wasn't noticeable when we vanished together at family events or when we hugged for long. Everyone always joked we acted more like best friends than relatives. It was more than that, but no one ever guessed. He's five years older, dark hair, that quiet aura that makes girls act stupid. Funny to say, but I have had a crush on him since I was sixteen. It stayed that way until college. We hooked up one night we were drunk at a family reunion. It was quick and messy. We told ourselves that was the last time it happened. Which was a lie, we always found a way, quickie at weddings, “catching up” at his apartment. All those things teenagers do. The risk made it hotter, followed by months of pretending nothing happened between us. But this year Thanksgiving though, we took it to another level, no need to act like we had self-control. The house was filled with the whole extended family, thirty people in my aunt's big old farm house. Three tables joined together long enough to go across the dining room into the living room. My little cousins running about, aunts arguing about recipes, men watching football playing on the screen. Peter flew in from across the country (he had gotten a job), he was looking better than ever, hot in a fitted jeans button-down. The moment he hugged me hello, longer than he should have, moving his hands low on my back. I knew we were f****d(literally). He smiled at me, one that I have always fantasied about since I was sixteen. “I see your boobs got bigger.” he whispered in my ears. “And you got nastier.” I shot back, fully conscious of my body. Gosh, he still hasn't changed. Dinner started, as usual. We said grace, passing plates, loud conversations, wine flowing. Guess what? We ended up seated across from each other at the near end of the long table. Knowing the kind of person Peter was, I knew that wouldn't go well for me. Under the tablecloth, his foot found mine, then his leg slid against mine, sliding up slowly until his calf pressed between my thighs. I shot a look and mouthed, “Are you serious?” He just smirked and slowly sipped his wine. I wouldn't lie, that move was provocative. Halfway through the main meal, I saw his hands go under the table. f**k me, what was he trying to do. My heartbeat increased. Now I regret wearing a pink skirt and thigh-high leggings on stupid purpose. I felt his fingers brushing my bare knee, higher, higher, upwards my thighs while holding a perfectly normal conversation with my dad about football. You gotta be kidding me. I was barely able to hold myself together. I readjusted in my seat, trying to act natural while my mom asked if I needed extra sauce. I forced a smile and nodded. Peter's finger found the edge of my lace panties, I was already soaked(of course), he just pushed them aside and slid one finger inside me, holding eye contact with me like it was nothing. Just casual, his fingers moving like he was applying butter on a roll. I had to bite the side of my cheeks, so I wouldn't make a sound. My grandma was telling a story two seats down, my dad and Uncle Fred were talking about cars. And Peter. He was slowly, finger-f*****g me under the table, like it was a normal thing to do. He slid in a second finger, curling them slowly, thumb brushing my c**t in tiny circles. All while smiling at whatever my brother was saying about his new job. I came quietly. Just as someone passed the mashed potatoes, I pretended to be focused on my plate, it hit me hard and suddenly, the kind that leaves you shaky. My thighs locked his hand. I bit the inside of my cheeks again, this time, until I tasted blood to remain silent. Peter slowly pulled out his fingers, brought them to his mouth, and licked them clean. He winked at me. Then he mouthed, “More.” “More…did he just say more?” I thought that would be it, a hot little secret to get us through dinner. I was so wrong. After dessert, everyone scattered: some to the couches, some to the kitchen to clean up, some went outside to receive some to receive air over beer. My phone beeped, Peter texted me. Basement, five minutes. I looked up he was across the hallway. I nodded, because honestly I wanted it too. Then I slipped downstairs, ensuring no one noticed me. I made it in two, judging by my hormones. The basement was a storage, lit only by a single bulb over the old pool table, old furniture, the washer humming in the corner, boxes and Christmas decorations everywhere. Everyone avoids it during gatherings because it's cold and creepy. Perfect spot. Peter was waiting in the far corner behind the old dryer, where you couldn't see from the stairs. His eyes were hungry, the second I got close, No words, he grabbed me against the concrete wall, and kissed me hard. He flipped my skirt up, pushed my panties aside, “You’re soaked, that's why I like this pussy.” His belt undone in seconds. He carried me like I weighed nothing, I wrapped my legs around his waist. He slammed into me in one deep thrust. I covered my mouth with my hands, so I don't moan loudly, we had to be dead quiet. “You feel so f*****g good,” he whispered right in my ear, voice raw. “You cummed at the table thinking about this c**k, didn’t you?” I couldn't even answer, I just nodded, bouncing on his c**k. Laughter and voices filtered down from upstairs, reminding us how thin the floor was. He began f*****g me faster, no mercy. Every move of his waist hit me deep, my n*****s hard through my thin sweater. Upstairs someone turned up the music louder. Thank God. He shifted his grip, hitting that perfect angle. “aaahh…deeper, f**k me” I held unto him. He began grinding, slowly going deeper “Come on my c**k Lena, while the whole family’s upstairs.” He said, panting “Who's your favourite cousin?” “Pe..terrr.” My p***y juice gushed out, I moaned so hard this time, biting down on his collar to stay quiet. He didn't slow down, he pounded deeper and harder, groaning my name as he released. He didn't pull out immediately, he buried himself to his balls. We stayed like that for a few seconds, recovering our breathe, foreheads together. His c*m dripped down my thighs when he finally pulled out. We fixed our clothes, arranged our hair and went back up separately. I slid in the living room, cheeks still flushed with a fresh slice of pie like nothing happened. I sat between my mom and aunt Nancy, his c*m still warm inside me. Peter walked in ten minutes later, holding a beer from the kitchen, he winked at me across the room. Later that night, as everyone said their goodbyes, he hugged me in the driveway. “See you at Christmas?” He murmured against my ear I smiled innocently. “Try and keep away from me.” No one suspected a thing. Some family traditions are sacred For each time I attend a family dinner now, I get wet just by walking through the door.