My Cousin Patsy and I Were 13, and Horny as Hell

I started masturbating at an early age, enjoyed masturbation all my life (including mutual with beautiful lovers…so good), and I have just gotten better and better at it, discovering again and again, to my surprise, new ways to get off. I’ve got a lot of stories—delicious memories that I often return to when I’m edging, milking my hard, lubed dick head.

I was 13 when my dad retired from the military and we settled in the town my parents had grown up in, near our relatives. My cousin (we’ll call her Patsy) was also 13. We’d been close growing up, however far away I lived. We’d exchange kid letters. And, as long as my family was living on the mainland, we’d play together every summer when dad took his leave.

I hadn’t seen Patsy in three years when we settled into the “hometown.” At 13 she had nicely developed tits and a superfine ass. And, she was horny as hell, all the time. Of course, at 13 I was jacking off every chance I got to, always having to deal with a hard dick in my pants. (I remember one day in school when I couldn’t get up to go to the wall-mounted pencil sharpener. : )

I was enrolled where Patsy went to school. Our families visited often, as they lived a few minutes away. School was out for summer a few weeks after we moved.

That summer was fantastically torturous.

Patsy liked to wear something called a “romper”—a one piece, form fitting outfit similar to what gymnasts wear, with a zipper in front that went from the neckline all the way down the front.

We always went off together to her room, or we’d sit on the couch in her living room while our parents visited outside. No one thought anything of it because we’d played together all those summers.

One day we were in her bedroom. Patsy’s horniness was made unabashedly obvious when she came very close to me (in that yellow romper), looking me in the eyes, slurping on a lollipop. As usual, my dick was hard as a rock in my pants.

Next thing I know we were in the living room sitting on the sofa, and she had the zipper all the way down, showing me her tits AND her pussy. She’s fair-skinned and her titties were large enough she could’ve cupped her hands under them, creamy white with perfect pink nipples. Her pussy was still almost bare, the lips just the way I’ve liked them to this day.

She was getting off to being so nasty with a boy, showing off her tits and pussy, teasing me, driving me crazy. I was afraid to touch her. And, although the raging hard on tenting my pants was clearly visible, she didn’t see or touch my dick.

One day Patsy said she needed to pee and invited me to follow her. She went in the bathroom leaving the door open. I stood outside and watched as she pulled the romper and her panties down to her ankles, lifted her bra above her tits, and spread her legs so I could see her pussy. When we heard the back door open, I hurried back to the living room (with a blue steel hard on) as she closed the door and put her clothes back in order.

Her sister had come in the back door to tell me my parents were ready to go home. My dick was so hard  I hurried to the car, bent over as if it was necessary to duck under tree limbs. (It wasn’t.)

I’d grown up in a home where any talk of sex was quietly taboo. There was no “birds and bees” lesson. Nothing. Furthermore, when I was much younger a neighbor kid had shown me something to do. Innocently, after he’d gone home, I tried it, with no thought of hiding. Mom must have freaked out when she saw me. I’ve always remembered her words, “Stop that! That’s nasty! Don’t ever do that again!”

Without meaning to, Mom had shamed me. Of course, I wouldn’t/couldn’t “never do that again.” In fact, as I came of age, I could hardly go a day without humping my bed or stroking my dick until I came.

Because of what had happened so early in life, there was always an underlying sense of shame, guilt about masturbating. Throughout that summer with Patsy, whether at her house or mine, we’d go into her bedroom or mine and she’d show me her titties and pussy. It must’ve been the shame that kept me from showing her my stiff dick. By the time school started up, I could see she was frustrated. She obviously loved being seen, and had never really said so, but she was frustrated that I never pulled my pants down so she could see my dick. (Oh, how I wish I had…)

School started up. She got a boyfriend (and, no doubt, got to see and play with dick right away). And that was the end of our nasty moments—at least for some years.

At last, when we were young adults, I visited her, offered my dick. She wanted it. I pulled my raging hard-on out of my fly, she took hold of it and led me to a chair where she helped me pull my pants down as I took a seat, got on her knees, and gave me one of the best blow jobs I’ve ever had.

There were a few more naughty encounters before she got married… (She loved watching me jack off, licking my balls, playing with her pussy, seeing the hot come spurt from my dick—smelling it, tasting it.) After the frustration I’d caused her when we were 13, letting her enjoy my dick was the least I could do (smile).

I’m so fucking horny right now!