Categories > Original > Essay

Kissing Cousins (But Without The Kissing Part)

by DoNotBeAFreak 1 review

For me it doesn't really feel like a good or bad memory either way, just a weird feeling. Part of those weird feelings has to do with the fact that I think I enjoyed the experience, but I can't be...

Category: Essay - Rating: R - Genres: Angst - Warnings: [Y] - Published: 2015-06-24 - 1804 words - Complete

There are some memories from childhood that I can and will call upon easily and fondly, like visits to the local renaissance festival and birthdays and holidays. But sometimes memories just pop up out of nowhere when I'm exposed to the right stimuli. Most of the time it's an embarrassing incident that happened at school, or something completely insensitive that I had said to a friend that I wish that I could've took back, but it's now way too late. Sometimes the memories can be even worse than that. Like the pain that I endured with my first broken bone and the tears on my mothers face as she drove me to the hospital.

This memory though, I'm very wary of every time I'm reminded. For me it doesn't really feel like a good or bad memory either way, it's just that there's always weird feelings attached. Part of those weird feelings has to do with the fact that I think I enjoyed the experience, but I can't be altogether sure about that. All I know from the memory is that I was an eager participant, and didn't question anything that I was asked to do. I also remember being very calm the entire time, and maybe a little bit curious about what we where doing.

The we part of that last sentence also has a lot to do with the weird feelings. The other person involved was definitely older than me, but not by much if it was definitely who I think it was. If it really was him then the age gap is six or so years. I was maybe four or five at the time, which would have made him ten or eleven. I can't really be too sure about that detail either, but I think that the memory took place before the first broken bone I mentioned earlier. The important part about this paragraph though is for me to say that I think it was my youngest male cousin. I know for sure that it took place at his childhood home, and somewhere in the sequence of events of the memory his mom calls his name from another room in the house and he gets up and leaves the room for a little while.

It was very dark in the room. All of the memory is is remembering what everything felt like and what he was saying to me, as well as light seeping out from underneath a closed door. Some of the time we where just lying next to each other, in what I assume was his bed, looking up at the ceiling. Some of the time we where spooning with me being the little spoon and facing the light under the door. I was fully clothed the entire time in a nightgown and panties, and he was shirtless and wearing either boxers or going commando in pajama pants.

It started in the lying next to each other position. "Give me your hand," he whispered in my ear and I did.

He put my hand on his belly, just above the waistband of his pants. It's kind of vague how but shortly there after my hand was in his pants. I didn't really know what I was touching, this was way before I even realized the difference between boys and girls. All I knew back then is that girls weren't allowed to see a boys pee-pee, and it wasn't until I got curious with an anatomy book around the time of my first period that I would even see a drawing of a flaccid one, let alone a picture of a hard one. Both Barbie and Ken are smooth, but Ken's smoothness is more of a bump and Barbie doesn't have nipples on her boobies like mommy does. That's as much as a five year old girl with no brothers that live in the same house and a dad that always closes the bathroom door knows.

I can't remember if he was already hard or not, but he was hard through much of the experience. He whispered, "go ahead and touch IT."

That's what he called IT the entire time.

So I did, I touched IT. I felt the entire thing, then gripped it with my little hand and squeezed.

"Don't squeeze IT so hard," he whispered in a hurried tone.

So I stopped squeezing and just held IT. It's all a little vague again, maybe because we layed there while he let me touch IT some more, or he thrust IT into me hand a little bit. It could have been both, but the reason I say it's a bit vague is because I don't know how long that went on.

He took my hand out of his pants and scooted closer to me. "Lay on your side," he whispered in my ear.

So I did. I lied so that I was facing away from him and looking at the light from under the door. He was up against me spooning from behind soon after that, his hand on the waist of my panties. My panties never came completely off, he just pulled them down in the back so that my butt cheeks where exposed and my nightgown had been rucked up enough for me to be able to feel his skin across my whole back. We where skin to skin and I could feel IT on my butt cheek.

At this time I would like to pause to clarify that at no time did he penetrate any orifice in my body with anything, whether it be an object or a part of his own body. I'm quite sure that if he did it would have been painful for me at that age and I have no pain associated with this memory.

He did, however, rub IT against the divide between my butt cheeks and between my thighs. I remember pushing back against him in an effort to get as close as I could possibly get, and squeezing IT with my thighs. The entire time this was happening I don't remember thinking about much else other than how pleasurable the tingly feeling the skin to skin contact was giving me. He was all moist with sweat, his breath coming hot and fast against the back of my head, and one of his hands gently griped my hip.

I don't know how long all that went on either, nor do I remember anything about it that would suggest that he had ejaculated. Given the age he would have been during this encounter I'm not even sure if he was old enough to know how to masturbate to full completion, though he was definitely old enough to be able to get IT hard. Don't take me seriously with any of that though, because I have no idea how pubescent boys work. I'm mostly gathering from my own experience in this area. Like how by the age of ten I was fascinated with the movie The Labyrinth and reveled in all the David Bowie crotch shots. Then by the time I was eleven or twelve I discovered that certain movie channels showed soft-core porn after midnight. Those movies got me so worked up that I would begin squirming because it felt so good to move my legs around, which soon turned into pillow humping. Suffice it to say that I knew how to have an orgasm for at least a year before my first period arrived a few months after my twelfth birthday.

I can't remember if we where still touching by the time his mother called his name from the other side of the house. He got up and left then, leaving me still lying on my side in his bed, panties back in place but nightgown still rucked up. I don't know if it had to do with the fact that my face must have been clearly visible to him when he opened the door on his return, or that he had gotten guilty after talking to his mother, but he was kind of cold after that.

I was a little eager when he got back into bed and I shoved my hand down his pants again. "Stop, don't touch IT no more," he whispered.

So I took my hand out of his pants, a little disappointed, and lied against him with my head on his shoulder. For a long time we stayed like that, long enough for me to fall asleep.

I don't really remember the next day, it's kind of blurred together with other memories of me staying the night at my Aunts house and spending the daylight hours jumping on their trampoline and playing in the dirt with their dogs.

Though there is a memory of jumping on the trampoline in such a way that I was deliberately showing my cousin my panties as my skirt flew about and him reprimanding me for it. That memory is associated with feeling disappointed that he wasn't interested in my panties. That's the only time I ever remember even alluding to the activities of that night. The only reason nothing was said by me was because it was one of those things that is never really talked about and you can sense it even though nobody has really ever stated clear social rules. An unspoken rule similar to the phenomenon of nobody ever carrying on a conversation started on Facebook in real life dealings with the person the were talking to.

For years I never really thought much about the experience. It wasn't until a sexual harassment assembly in eighth grade till I realized that what happen could be considered molestation.

Was it though? I'm not sure now, but I know that if the age difference with much larger, say at least a couple years more, I think that I would consider it being that way. And I know that if the age difference was much closer I would consider it to be a sexual exploration conducted by prepubescent children before they had any real knowledge of what they were doing and why it felt good, most commonly referred to as playing doctor. But because of the age gap that was the case and the fact that he was around the age that I was when I remember my own sexuality awakening I'm not quite sure.

I never really had any children my age to play with outside of preschool, and even then there wouldn't have been enough privacy to play doctor there. And what I know about my cousins childhood it could have been the same for him. So I don't really have a hard time thinking about it as a game of doctor with a bit of sexual awakening happening on my cousins side of the deal.
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