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The young girl in the photos was captivating. Dewy skin, large liquid brown eyes, moist lips. And a body that made any man ache with passion.
How did the young male world survive without the Internet, I wondered, slowly stroking my stiffening manhood as I scrolled down the page of thumbnail photos. In this global village lived thousands of beautiful nubile creatures with limbs splayed and private parts displayed in every imaginable position. And in some I never knew were possible.
Sure, in the past there had been porn magazines and movies. But the Internet is is erotica on demand, searchable and scrollable. And available at a keystroke, at no cost but for the redness left by an over-enthusiastic afternoon or a lonely Saturday night.
Don’t get me wrong, I date. I date lots, and I’m no virgin. There’s no substitute for a hot, willing woman who is curious and available. I’ve introduced a few girls to carnal love and have been rewarded with enthusiasm, eagerness , gratitude and no lingering desire for a deep relationship. They wanted to get fucked by someone who knew how to do it and I was amenable.
But I digress.
The Internet is more convenient than dating. There are no strings attached, unless you count the time and trouble to set up antivirus and spyware scans. And while it doesn’t come close to the feeling of a wet pussy gripping your cock, it’s efficient and effective. And in my final semester of college, worried about graduation and seeking a place in the working world, I needed as little extra distraction as possible.
The last few times I’ve gone online to surf the porn pages, I’ve found myself drawn to a site that seemingly would not be my forte. It features a small young blonde from Montreal, Canada, and is tame by Internet porn standards. This girl has been an Internet star for a few years but only recently released free photos of herself nude. For a long time, the only pictures that surfers who weren’t members of her website could find were photos of her in sleepwear, swimwear or lingerie. The boldest photos were of her in a thong with her back turned, her arms crossed over her breasts. A sharp-eyed viewer might have been able to see the side of her breast as it peeked out from her hand, or the pale underside of her breasts as she lifted her shirt to remove it.
She almost disappeared from thumbnail sites, replaced by bolder, younger vixens only too willing to offer up total nudity, gynecological poses, object insertion and girl-girl teasing in return for links to their pay-to-play sites.
A few weeks ago, I stumbled onto recent photos of the young girl, this time obviously taken from the inside pages of her website. Because in these she was nude. Not teasingly nude but bold, in-your-face nude. She still hadn’t joined the “watch me fuck for money” club, and there were no cucumbers, hair brushes or broom handles erupting from her innards. But there were soft, small, pink-nippled breasts and a tight young pussy crowned by a strip of honey-colored pubic hair. Pretty heady stuff after years of peek-a-boo online.
Sure, it was tame. I could find photos – and video – of prettier girls. Better-endowed girls. Girls willing to do daring things on camera. And in high-definition video in many cases. But this girl somehow captivated me. She didn’t have the biggest breasts or even the best-proportioned body. Some would say she had a big butt for a girl so small. Or didn’t have the tiniest waistline. Or that her breasts were too small, her aerola too large. But I found myself returning time and time again to these new photos.
My cock’s reaction to the images was equally unsettling. As I said, I’m no stranger to sex. So it usually takes me a while to get cranked up when I’m using the Internet to get off. But the first time I found these nude photos of the blonde, my soldier lept to attention like it was Flag Day. And every time I’ve returned, I’ve had the same physical reaction. So I found myself looking more critically at the photos, even as I quickened my hand’s pace up and down my love-handle.
And then it hit me! This girl looks like my Canadian cousin! Hell, it might BE my Canadian cousin! I was so shocked I actually stopped my stroking and my hooded warrior went limp.
I peered at the photos, found a closeup of the girl’s face and enlarged it to full screen. I looked into her brown eyes, catching the golden highlights as she stared back at me. I studied her hair, honey-colored with golden highlights. I paid particular attention to her lips, full and soft, moist with desire. The longer I looked, the more convinced I became that this was, indeed, my cousin from Toronto. To underscore my conviction, my cock began to swell as the realization dawned.
How could I be sure? How old would Anita be now? It had been more than five years since I’d last seen her so she would be at least 21 now. She had just gotten her driver’s license the last time I’d visited. I remembered because I teased her illegal bahis relentlessly about being able to drive herself instead of going out on dates chauffeured by her older sister. I recall her lilting laughter as she playfully punched me on the arm. We had always been close, even though I was nearer her sister’s age than hers.
So how can I confirm my suspicions? I can’t confront her without ruining our friendship. She really is special to me and I didn’t want to do anything to jeopardize that. I gazed back at the beautiful face on my computer screen. The girl from Montreal was older but so was Anita now. I closed my eyes and imagined her lovely face, shining with love as we parted at the end of my last visit. She had kissed me tenderly and pushed away, looking into my eyes. “Don’t you ever stop caring for me,” she said. “I love you and I couldn’t stand it if you stopped loving me.”
I closed the image on my screen and went back to the page of thumbnails. Now my suspicions were aroused (an interesting word considering my cock’s throbbing condition) and I was determined to satisfy my curiosity. I opened a full-body view and perused the blonde from head to toe. I’d never seen my cousin nude, not for a lack of trying, but I’d seen her in a bikini and was confident I’d be able to tell if this was her.
The neck, shoulders and chest certainly could be my cousin’s. A bit fleshier than I remembered but she’s five years older and probably more physically mature than the 16-year-old I remembered. The breasts were beautiful and seemed the right size but this was an area about which I had to admit no knowledge. Her waist was slender and shapely but I thought my cousin’s was smaller and better-defined. The Montreal beauty had a bit of a tummy, not unattractive by any means. But not the mirror of my cousin’s tight, rippled abs. I forced my eyes down below the moist vee between her thighs and focused on her legs. Here the jury was deadlocked. From her beautiful thighs to her trim ankles, the Montreal girl’s legs were the equal of my cousin’s gorgeous gams.
In the next photo, the Montreal girl’s back was turned, displaying her round butt and her sleek back. As my eyes wandered down her body I reached the small of her back and sighed with relief. This wasn’t my cousin. It couldn’t be. This girl had a tattoo on her lower back and my cousin was ink-free. So it was close but no cigar. And I could enjoy leering at the Montreal girl without guilt.
One Friday morning, my mom dropped a bomb on my breakfast cereal. “How would you like to go to Toronto with me after graduation?” she asked. “We haven’t been there in a while and I’d like to see your aunt and cousins. Dad has a conference so he’ll be gone for a week and I thought you and I could go north for a visit.” In an instant, all the thoughts of my lovely young cousin came rushing back. What the hell, I thought. It’d be nice to see her again and I’m sure she’s deep into a relationship with some Canadian hockey player or something. “Sure, mom. That’d be great. It’ll be nice to have some downtime before starting my real life.”
On Friday, mom and I took dad to the airport for his conference. Then we rushed home and packed the car for our six-hour drive north to Toronto. We were both in high spirits, ready to enjoy a carefree week in Canada. And I was looking forward to renewing my friendship with my northern cousin.
We arrived at my aunt’s house at suppertime. My mom’s sister was younger but they could have passed for twins. Both were striking brunettes with sculpted faces, high cheekbones and sleek model-slim figures. Neither looked like a mother, at least not the typical TV mom. They hugged and chattered on the porch for a minute until my aunt realized I was standing, bags in hand, behind mom. “Jerry!” she screamed, rushing past my mom to throw her arms around me. “Oh, Annie’s going to be so pleased!” She kissed me, pressing her body against me as she drew me to her. I found myself momentarily aroused by her lean form glued to my body. I stepped back before she noticed the growing bulge in my crotch and smiled my response. “I’m really glad to be here, Aunt Jo. And I’m looking forward to seeing Annie again. Is she home?”
Before my aunt could answer, the front screen flew open and a blonde blur hit me chest high at what seemed about 60 miles an hour (or 100 kilometers, whatever the Canadian equivalent might be). “You hot hunk! Why haven’t you been up to see me before now?” Anita was in my arms and squirming like a Christmas puppy. “You’d better not have gone off and gotten married on me!”
She kissed me and molded her body to me. She was short, about 5-foot-5, and her head came just under my chin. As my arms went around her, I found myself marveling at how tiny she was. I could feel her firm breasts pressing against my midsection and I could see her tight butt as she stood on her tiptoes to give me a kiss. “I couldn’t marry anyone but you,” I laughed. “And they won’t let me marry illegal bahis siteleri you so I’m just going to stay single.”
She dropped away from me but held onto my hand as I recovered the bags I’d dropped and went into the living room. “C’mon,” she said, “I’ll help you with the bags and then we can catch up on stuff. Mom and Aunt Lu will be jawing nonstop anyway. They’ll never miss us.” She grabbed my mom’s bag and started toward the staircase. “Don’t get too engrossed in your conversation,” her mom said. “Dinner’s almost ready and I’m sure Jerry is starving.”
I turned toward the staircase as Annie (no one in the family called her Anita but me) started up. I was riveted by her tight butt as she climbed the stairs. She wore low-slung shorts that accentuated her trim, muscular legs and a top that stopped just short of the elastic band on her shorts. As she grabbed the handrail and pulled her way up the stairs the shirt rode up slightly, exposing the small of her back and, ohmygawd, a tattoo! I slipped on a stair tread and nearly fell.
“Watch it!” she said, dropping the bag to turn and grab me. “Some of these old stairs are really shaky. Did you hit a bad one?” I was perspiring and struggling to regain both my balance and composure. “I’m OK,” I said shakily. “I just wasn’t paying attention.”
My mind was whirling. A tattoo! I had been sure my cousin wasn’t the Montreal hottie because she didn’t have a tattoo and the Internet star did. But now I find out that Annie does have a tattoo. All the other comparisons came rushing back. Was there anything else that clearly separated the two? I couldn’t remember. I just stopped comparing once I saw the tattoo. Now the doubts and erotic possibilities came rushing back. Sometime during my mental wandering I made it up the stairs and to the room I was to use during our visit. Annie had deposited my mom’s bag in a room down the hall and was coming back to where I was riveted. “Are you OK?” she asked, her brow furrowing with concern. “You’re pale and your forehead’s all sweaty. Did you hurt yourself?”
I shook myself into control. “No, I’m fine,” I lied. “Tripping just shook me up a bit. I’m really just fine. C’mon in and talk to me while I put my stuff away.”
We went into my room and she jumped onto the bed. I opened my suitcase on a valet stand and looked back at her. “You look terrific,” I said honestly. “You’re prettier now than the last time I saw you. No wonder you’re the only girl I ever wanted to marry.” Through my teasing, I took in her glowing face, her large brown eyes and those full, moist lips. Her legs were coiled under her supporting her small frame. Her breasts pressed against the thin cotton tank, rising and falling as she breathed. She was not self-conscious under my gaze; rather, she returned my steady stare as she gave me the once-over. I found myself wondering anew if this was the girl who’d bared her body for millions of lustful males on the Web.
“You’re pretty hot yourself,” she said. “You were kinda lanky in high school but college food must agree with you. I can’t believe some coed hasn’t sunk her hooks into you yet but I’m glad you haven’t succumbed. I’ve been saving myself for you.” Her laugh was like a brook in the spring, bubbling up from within her and erupting cool and inviting.
“I’m flattered,” I joked back. “I didn’t know there were any 21-year-old virgins left in North America. Or is it just that Canadian guys are too preoccupied with hockey and curling to engage in other indoor sports?”
She leaned over and punched my arm with her tiny fist. “You ugly Americans! Always making jokes about us proud Canadians. And when I said I was saving myself I didn’t mean it that way; I just meant I wasn’t married either.”
“Oh, so you’re a Canuk slut, eh?” I teased, secretly delighted that my hot cousin was familiar with physical pleasure. “Doin’ the ol’ horizontal mambo on the chesterfield, eh?” This was fun and her hearty laughter told me she was enjoying it, too.
“No one calls it a chesterfield anymore,” she giggled. “And I haven’t been doing anything naughty on the sofa. At least not on our sofa.” Her impish look told me someone’s sofa was getting a workout, though.
Our ribald conversation was interrupted by a voice from downstairs. “All right you two! Stop your horseplay and get down here for dinner!” My aunt’s voice was light though the message was clear. I grabbed Annie’s hands and hoisted her off the bed and toward the door. She stepped into my arms and reached up to pull my face to her. She kissed me tenderly and then, just before we parted, gave my lips a dusting with the tip of her tongue. “It’s really great to see you,” she said breathily. “I think we’re going to have a great time getting reacquainted.”
We went downstairs hand in hand and I walked into the kitchen slightly behind her, hoping my mom and aunt didn’t notice my growing arousal. As we parted to sit down, Annie glanced back and then down toward my canlı bahis siteleri crotch. “Hasn’t Jerry grown, mom?” she said to my aunt. “He’s a lot bigger than I remember.” Her double entendre was lost on our moms but I nearly choked. She smiled demurely as we sat down to dinner.
Annie and I volunteered to clean up after dinner and our mothers retired to Aunt Jo’s bedroom to sip tea and trade gossip about mutual friends and Canadian headliners. Mom and Aunt Jo have always been close and she cherishes these visits. I knew we wouldn’t be pestered by our parents during the week.
Annie washed and I dried, stacking the dishes carefully on the counter. Annie put them in the cupboard and then turned to me. “Wanna go downtown and grab a beer?” she asked. “I’m legal now, y’know.”
“Yeah, and you can drink with the big folks, too,” I shot back, smiling as the double entendre struck her and she reached out again. “You can find out about the latter,” she said, “but it’s not likely you’ll learn about the former anytime soon Yank!” She grabbed my arm and pulled me toward the door.
We went to a small pub in a district north of Toronto that was unfamiliar to me. “How come we’re here?” I asked as we headed toward the door. “Because no one knows me here,” she said. “So no one will ask a bunch of questions about who you are.”
We ordered pints and found a table in the corner of the pub away from the smoke and noise. “I can’t begin to tell you how excited I was when mom told me you were coming up,” Annie said after we were settled. “It’s been like Christmas Eve ever since she told me. I couldn’t sleep last night waiting to see you.”
“I’m sorry the thought of me scared you so much you couldn’t sleep,” I joked.
“You big dummy!” she pouted. “You just never take me seriously!”
“I do now,” I said, suddenly sobering. “You were always the fun kid until I saw you earlier. You’ve grown into a beautiful, bright young woman. It’d be impossible not to take you seriously.”
She blushed and smiled at me. “Thank you. I’ve always wanted you to take me seriously, like when I tell you how much I love you.”
“I love you, too, Anita. And I always will.”
“No, I don’t mean I love you like my favorite cousin, which you are. I mean I love you like the exciting man you are … like a boyfriend.”
I was paralyzed. We’d always joked about how fond we were of one another but I had no idea that it had rooted so deeply in her life. Hell, I hadn’t seen her for the last quarter of her existence. What should I say? While I was pondering my response, she continued talking.
“So I guess I’m making a fool of myself again,” she said darkly. “Your silence speaks volumes. Apparently my affection is one-sided.”
I finally recovered. “No, your affection is definitely not one-sided,” I said. “If I told you about some of the fantasies I’d entertained about us you’d be shocked and probably disgusted. But the dreams weren’t just lurid sex tales … they were manifestations of my deepest wish that you might share the love I had for you.”
She nearly spilled her beer reaching over the table to pull my face to hers. Her mouth was warm and moist and her kiss was anything but cousinly. Her tongue snaked out and found mine, wrapping it in her hot, wet love. My cock was attempting to levitate the table on its own as I responded to Anita’s wonderful kiss.
After what seemed 10 minutes, we parted and I was panting like I’d just run a marathon. She had a distant look in her soft brown eyes and her hands were cool as they stroked my face. I reached over and held her chin in my hands. “I really do love you, Anita. And I guess I always have. But I never wanted to admit it, even to myself.” I kissed her again, feeling her warmth spread from her lips through my body.
“Let’s get out of here,” she said. “I want to go someplace and just be with you.” I tossed some bills on the table and we left, my arm wrapped around her tiny waist and her hip rubbing against my leg as we walked to the car. She tossed me the keys and asked me to drive. “I’m too turned on to try and drive,” she said, “and I want both hands free to paw you.”
She wasn’t kidding. As I steered out of the parking lot she moved as close to me as the car’s console would allow and began running her fingers up and down my thigh. She reached over with her right hand and stroked my chest, purring contentedly as she whispered directions. We arrived at a small park in the middle of a residential district and parked at the back of the lot, away from lights and traffic.
I turned toward her and pulled her against me, kissing her deeply as our bodies twisted to get closer to one another. “Let’s go outside,” she said. “I want to feel you against me.” We stumbled out of the car and found a grassy area not far from the parking lot. She pulled me to her and locked her mouth on mine, pressing her body against me as she tongued me into arousal. My hands ran up and down her back and onto her tight butt, pulling her against me as we kissed. She pushed me back and lay on top of me, grinding her hips into mine as we groped one another. She rolled onto her side and pulled me to her, reaching down to stroke my hardness.
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