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First Time in the Back Seat

Posted by: SoloTouchArchive Author: odysseus Posted on: 30 Oct 2004 2 comments
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Teen boy, his girl cousin, and her Dad in the front seat.My father and his sister were mad at each other as long as I could remember. I met my cousin Martha once, when I was about eight and she was ten. My father, who could not resist a chance to put me down, had us run a race in the front yard, and she beat me easily. Years later, when I was in my teens, my grandmother died. She lived with my aunt and uncle, and there was a temporary truce, and Martha came to visit us. By then my father had bought a house in a very expensive suburb, and I think he may have been showing it off for his sister. Martha was a trim little blonde with perky breasts and a high, firm bottom, still a runner and a track star on her high school team. I had discovered masturbation about two years before, and Martha wasn't just a girl athlete: now she was a girrrl. About the third night she was in our house, I stayed downstairs with her and we played Jerome Kern records. I fell asleep in a chair and Martha went out on the sofa. My father was an early riser, and came down about 6 am and found us there, as innocent as babes, and raised hell. --What did I think I was doing down here? --I fell asleep. --Well, don't fall asleep down here again! Obviously there was something about Martha that I would could make me happy, because it made my father so angry. Martha and I started writing to each other after she went back to New Jersey, and I was invited down to their house by my Aunt Mimi. I think that my father couldn't refuse, because I was packed on a plane to Newark Airport and spent a lovely two weeks learning the anatomy of young girls, or at least of one young girl. We would lie out on the daybed on the porch, right under the line of sight from the living room. Martha would take her shoes off and hold her bare feet against my crotch. I still have a foot fetish. Where she learned what she did, I still don't know, but I think it was self-invented. She was not a bawdy girl, but she would do anything for me, and over the next fifteen years, she did. Her parents must have known what was going on, but my uncle Ned ignored it and Aunt Mimi almost seemed to approve. I learned later that she would have favored it if Martha and I married, which was strange because we were a Roman Catholic family and it would have been incest, as my father later pointed out to me in a monologue that James Joyce would have loved. It had about as much effect on me as wind whistling in the chimney while a fire blazed in the fireplace. One night during that two weeks we were riding back from somewhere in my uncle Ned's car. Martha leaned her head onto my shoulder and closed her eyes. Her younger brother was in the front seat, I checked the rearview mirror to estimate where Uncle Ned was looking, slid my arm behind her, and started to snuggle. Martha wasn't so sleepy after all. I felt her warm breath on my jersey, and started to kiss her clean hair. She snuggled against me. After a few miles, I felt her wriggling her bottom forward on the seat, leaving a space between her spine and the seatback.I dropped my hand down there and a little further. Martha had a truly gorgeous ass, you could have eaten it like a ripe peach, and now I had a good grip on it through her thin summer skirt. A few minutes later, she slid down further in my lap and twisted so her ass cheeks were pressed against my hand. This was heaven, and I didn't dare move. Then she started moving and hitching at her skirt. After a while, there was no more skirt, but only warm skin, where my hand was. She wasn't wearing any panties. A boy's first handful of a girl's soft muscled ass burns patterns in his brain, I guess. Ecstacy was just a word. I was nearly fainting. She kept wiggling softly, inch by inch, until my fingers were in the crack between her buttocks; then, minute by minute, she hiked up further and further and my fingers went lower and lower, and I finally felt a ridge of muscle. She kept moving up my hand until the tip of my middle finger had to go in or slide out. I had no problem choosing "in". She gasped, again very quietly, and her asshole opened and sucked my finger tip in. I know this doesn't sound very likely, but it happened. (It happened years later with my cock, after the girl I was with had been waiting two weeks for me to get back from Europe. When their holes suck you in, you know they're glad to see you!) I started working the first joint of my finger into that tight little muscle with its soft, wet, velvet lining. I could tell that she liked it, because her pulse got rapid and her breathing got deeper and deeper and she squirmed against my hand and her asshole contracted against my middle finger. I worked my finger in and out; she began to pant, and her buttocks strained against my hand and then she went limp with my finger still inside her. I wasn't quite sure what had happened, but she felt heavy, as though she had been drugged, and her asshole went as loose as warm butter. A few minutes later, her father said, "OK, kids, we're home." I got my finger out just when her brother's head came up over the front seat, saying, "Hey Martie, time to wake up!" My erection was almost frightening, because I hadn't come and didn't know how I would get in the house and up to bed without her father and mother seeing it, but I managed. I hadn't come, but I know that Martha had. The next morning we were sitting in the breakast nook, and when her mother was at the stove, she looked at me across bowls of Rice Krispies and glasses of juice, and gave me the sweetest smile, as open and loving as her bottom had been to my finger in the back seat of the car. All I can think of now is that her father drove me while I finger-fucked my girl cousin's asshole, and I never even thanked him. ///