Milly rsquo s Cousin Janie
- 3 years ago
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That Time Cousin Milly Helped Me Seduce Sean. free porn video
Before I met Sean, I'd never considered sex with another male. The social mores of my childhood had infected me with a virulent strain of denial that reason failed to cure. The lashing taunts of my schooldays still cut to the quick: "You fucking-puffter", the ultimate shaming.
I had just turned twenty and needed perspective. After two years with Milly, I had become someone I hardly recognised. I enrolled on a psychology course in the search for even the hint of an answer. I was hoping for Maslow and Jung, got Skinner and Pavlov instead.
That's where I met him.
I was hardly out of my teens, drawn to him in spite of myself. There was something about Sean beyond gender. I was captivated by his fairness of flesh, his startling blue eyes, the flaxen hair that hung fine and straight to his collar. He had a lithe physique that belied hidden strength. It was that of a dancer. His face had yet to lose its youthful appeal. One smile and you could forgive him anything. Otherness shone from his eyes, an indefinable infectious spark that made me feel happy. That first time I entered the classroom, I saw him watching me as I cast my eyes about wondering where I should sit. I did not hesitate to take the seat beside him.
The following week, in our break, he told me how he had left home at sixteen, fleeing an evil from which only the utterly ruined could fail to try and escape. His parents were Witnesses, went door to door teaching the Last Days and intolerance. By the time I met him, he was nearly eighteen and living alone in a rented room in the basement of Trent House, a once elegant Victorian villa aspiring to dereliction. In the fifties it had been partitioned into bedsits, its inners becoming transit cells for the socially deranged, a mansion of hell one level higher than the one he had flown.
Sean saved his money, was determined to ascend, soar beyond his origins. During the week, he worked as a labourer on building sites. Saturday nights he shovelled battered cod and chips into greaseproof and broadsheets. Money was his sole focus, the rocket fuel to free him from the gravity of his past. And every weekday evening a night class. His goal was to become a vet.
Soon I was telling Milly about Sean. And even though I did not confess it, she saw my need.
"What is it about this Sean guy?" she asked (she had yet to meet him). "You're always banging on about him."
"Am I?"
"Do you fancy him or something?"
"Don't be daft!" I felt myself blushing.
"Oh my god. You do, don't you!" She came and kissed me, her tongue betraying her delight, telling tales of how the thought of another boy and me excited her, one more item on a growing list of her sexual things-to-do.
She said we should share him like we shared our secrets. Milly was full of secrets just then, and I knew them all, every misshapen whim, the name of every girl and woman, boy and man, she hankered after.
I needed Milly's help. She was the fabulous lure that would make him bite.
We were out together with friends the first time she met Sean. I'd asked him along, wanted to expand his circle of friends, maybe get him into the punk band I'd formed the year before. He'd told me he could sing and play the piano, had even written songs.
To see him and Milly sat side by side only stoked my obsession. His likeness to hers was that of flesh and blood. And as she appraised him, in that moment of introduction, I saw how her gaze and words were a gift he would not squander, a memory he would hoard and bring out when the need took him. When Milly was in London, I would fantasise about Sean Fantasising about her, see him in my mind wanking to the thought of fucking her while I looked on.
When she had the measure of him, Milly turned to me and smiled. No words were needed. The wild delight in her eyes was enough.
The following Tuesday in the pub after class, I asked him what he thought of Milly. "She's the most beautiful girl I've ever met," he said. Some part of her had found a new home.
I wanted to make it blatant, leave him no wriggle room, say to him come back tonight and you can have her. But how could I explain that it would be conditional, me an equal partner in the deal?
All I could manage was, "She likes you too."
It was the end of summer, the one everyone remembers, the one that people still write and talk about all these years on. Late October and six weeks into our friendship with Sean, Milly and I were hatching plans. He had become part of our inner sexual landscape, the essential focus in the build-up to our lovemaking.
I would ask him to stay over. He kept putting me off, seemingly impervious to our inuendos, our blatant flirting.
An Indian summer, the countryside tinder dry. For three nights in a row, Milly and I watched the moorland surrounding Cragmount House awash with flames, the nighttime landscape becoming a canvas by Bosch. The evening that Backthwaite Copse ignited, I prayed the wind would not drive the conflagration our way, bring the fire down on us circuitously via Homestead Wood. In the master bedroom of Cragmount House, through its picture window, Milly and I lay and watched the apocalyptic scene from our bed as we spoke of Sean.
It was the night before his eighteenth birthday.
If not for me inheriting Cragmount, Milly and I would never have become the creatures we did. She was my cousin, the daughter of my mother's twin sister. Mother and daughter had come to stay in the days before the funeral after the death of my parents and sister.
A week after the funeral Aunt Jean returned home and Milly stayed on, my childhood friend becoming my lover. Later I will tell you what Milly brought to my bed. But more than that, it was Cragmount that bound her to me, its rooms and grounds hoarding so many memories.
I was eighteen, Milly nineteen when they all died. My parents were sailing the world in a yacht named Tinkerbell. My beautiful older sister Melissa and her boyfriend Tom had flown out and joined them in the Caribbean for the final leg home. But I had my A-levels and had stayed home. No one can say how their boat floundered: a storm, a rogue wave — or maybe an over-playful playful whale. That would be ironic. Melissa was into all that nature stuff. Her childhood dream had been to become a Marine Biologist.
*****
It was the evening of Sean's birthday. I think he was expecting a party.
Milly had fetched him from Trent House in my old MG, brought him to us here in the hills while I prepared a meal. The car's soft top down, it had been a journey through ash and smoke, the hillsides still in flames; though the fires no longer threatened the house, the inferno having veered, driven away by strong winds that stoked its ferocity. Now the twilight sky above Stanton, two miles away, was painted scarlet, the surrounding hills darkened and backlit, the battle against the flames raging up Bladderthwaite Forest way.
The dinner was awkward. I felt guilty, regretted not asking more friends, our bandmates Carl and Bradley, their girlfriends Nico and Trixie. But I never said there would be others. I had no scruples, did not regret the sham that risked his distrust. I knew Milly's beauty and charm would be enough to please him, win his cock's insistence, ignite a craving that would lead him to our bed.
Our meal over, we took wine to The Turret, the incongruous gothic four-story tower my father had tacked on to the Art Deco house many years before. From its uppermost floor, we gazed out into the night. The fire had turned since Sean's arrival, was skirting the house five hundred yards to the east. I thought of war and carnage as sparks from the wind-stoked inferno cascaded into the charcoal sky. The crack of conifers taken by flames reached us through open panes like distant pyrotechnics.
"It's like the end of the world," Sean said as he gazed into the distance.
"We could be the only three left alive on the planet," Milly said. "Up to us to start mankind over again."
"Okay for some," Sean said, his eyes fixed on me.
"You could contribute too," Milly said.
"And you'd be okay with that?" he asked.
"Our children would be extraordinarily beautiful."
She went to him and kissed his cheek, and I thought what their offspring would be, a nest full of Cuckoos.
"We'd best go back down," I said.
In the lounge, I poured tequila into tall iced glasses, laced them with lemon and salt.
The thought of herself as the new Eve stayed with Milly. She asked, "Have you read that poem . . . the one where people on a bus learn the end of the world is about to happen."
"McGough's, 'Lunchtime'," I offered.
"What happens?"
"Do you even need to ask!" she said.
She placed her glass on the side table, stood and went to him. "Dance with me, Sean. Dance with me as if tonight really is the end of the world." She reached out her hand, and he let her pull him to his feet.
She turned to me and said, "Richard. Put some music on. That Bowie track I like so much."
I did as she said. Diamond Dogs: Side two, Rock 'n' Roll With Me. The notes of its intro filled the room.
"I love this song." She rested her head on his shoulder. "Bowie's bisexual. Did you know?" There was silence as they began to sway to the music. Then, "Would you ever —"
" — With a man?" He looked my way.
"I'm sorry. I'm embarrassing you. Just hold me."
He was uncertain at first but was beginning to understand. It was hardly dancing, two people becoming close, the music a catalyst. I watched her hips slowly undulating against his until the pair were locked together. They were a perfect fit, one creature. And when it happened, their kissing had numinosity, an otherworldly beauty that was breathtaking to see. Although Milly was never mine to give, yet still I became afraid that I had been too rash, had made of her a too generous a gift.
She whispered, and they both looked my way, their faces cheek to cheek, their eyes pools of dark tranquillity deep enough to hold all Milly's secrets. I sipped my tequila and watched them resume the pretence of dancing, unable to believe Sean would ever consent to us both.
More whispering and I saw her filthy grin. "Sean says you shouldn't be on your own on the night the world comes to an end."
I was uncomprehending, sat calcified and staring. They began to kiss again, and I thought it cruel. He lifted the hem of her summer dress waist-high so that I saw how she wore no panties, its ethereal white cotton bunched tissue in his left fist, It was a revelation. I had no idea she had removed them. I watched the flat of his other hand run the length of her arse-crack, up and down, over and over.
I approached him from behind, my body liquid with excitement, falling into resonance with their movements and mood. My hands found his waist, thumbs hooking the leather of his belt, my palms flat against his upper hip sides. Soon my cheek rested between his shoulders. I breathed him in. He was unlike any girl. I pushed my hips into him, my cock beside itself with its need for him. Stifled by denim, it yearned hopelessly to be released.
"We should go up," Milly said.
Only if that is what Sean wants?" I told her.
He turned from her and looked me fearlessly in the eyes as he said, "This will be the end of both our worlds."
He pulled me to him so that we were eye to eye. I felt his constricted cock through his jeans against mine as his tongue dashed between my lips. And then it was I who was the passive one, the one seduced, the negative to his positive. I surrendered to him, allowed him the role of male, let him kiss me as a man. It made my mind spiral to surrender to him like that. And then there was no safe harbour and I was a pitching boat on stormy waters, waves of lust washing over me one after another. Each one threatened to sweep me from the deck of myself, on out into an unknowable ocean. I hated what that kiss meant, the way it excited me more than any woman's had ever had.
We undressed him at the foot of our bed. Seeing his cock for the first time but not daring reach for it. Instead, I ran my hands down the front of his body, from shoulders to abdomen, in awe of his Hellenistic beauty. My fingers travelled, defining muscle his muscle's ridges as they moved, those subcutaneous wave traces, ripples in hard wet sand that girdled his stomach.
Together, Milly and I explored his flesh, our hands often crossing, lingering one upon the other in a moment of bonding, a show of mutual satisfaction at the success of all our scheming. And then me daring at last. My hand to his cock, nesting his balls in my palm, weighing them gently before drawing my palm upwards, bringing them up a little way too. My finger around his shaft, enclosing it, gripping it too tightly, amazed by its improbable circumference, its substance and density; but most of all by its silkiness, the delicacy of its wrapping. His erection was a manifestation of the lust we had stoked. Now I understood his need, held it in my clenched fingers, not quite a fist.
Me kneeling before him, studying what I was about to taste. I had never been so close to another man's penis! I inched my head forward and began teasing its tip with my tongue, letting it sweep the shaft, finally enclosing his circumcised rawness and sealing my lips. As I sucked on him, I breathed deeply to capture the bouquet of his hips, drawing his natural scent deep into my lungs. Inside my mouth, my tongue was showing off, trying to impress. It made him moan with pleasure. My saliva became copious. I had to swallow and swallow.
Milly on her knees at my side like a little sister wanting to share. I let his cock slip from my lips, her mouth quickly snapping to take it. If I had known she intended to keep it for herself for so long, I would never have relinquished it. Such a greedy, selfish girl. I grew resentful of her skill, how she lavished her talents on him. She had the advantage of her sex's wired ability, the one I feared I could never match. I brushed the hair from her face wanting to understand her technique. She looked up at him from her prayers seeking prompts from his eyes, needing to know when she pleased him just so. I thought of her mouth and the tongue that lived within, remembering the times it had slathered my cock. I thought of its skill, its long-practised routine, and how much it must now be pleasing him.
And then it was my turn, my chance to put into practice what I had just observed. "Oh, God! You guys," he said. But that was the only sense he made. His groans of pleasure as he cum were beastly. His jizz was tepid and viscous. I tried not to taste it, gulped it down like oysters from the shell.
He remained quite still as Milly's mouth milked his cock for dregs. I looked him over. His body was sculptured Greek beauty, cold and hard in the paleness of lamplight. I circled him, touched him here and there, his back and shoulders, feeling the solidity earned from week after week of hod-carrying since the age of sixteen.
Milly and I undressed each other as Sean climbed onto our bed. He watched us kiss while I thought of his lessening cock, its residue still discernable between my teeth, each of us seeking its traces in the mouth of the other.
He was momentarily drained of passion and yet still gave us free rein. We were naked on each side of him, Milly kissing him, leaning over him as if he were one the girls she often brought to our bed. With a careless hand, she stayed the wayward strands of her hair that threatened to curtain my view. He was passive now, a person neither male or female — just as I had imagined he would be. I explored his body casually with hands and mouth. My tongue a blind man's fingers reading the brail of his muscles beneath his fragrant flesh. I spent time with his limp cock, opening wide to take all of it into my mouth, his testicles as well. To have the whole package as a gag was the strangest of things.
I had expected Milly to be the focus of his lust, but working as one they manoeuvred me to the centre of the bed. I sensed his cock rallying. It was half-formed against the side of my hips, its increasing swell a distracting insistence. From either side, each had a knee resting on mine as they took turns to kiss me. I lapped up the attention, amazed that Sean had so quickly found the will to do this.
Hands without owners, just bringers of pleasure; mouths in their wake, two soft nets trawling the seabed of my flesh. My cock awaited attention, looming boon-like over my abdomen, he the first to reach it. He took it in his mouth and my mind went into free-fall.
Just as Milly and I had shared his cock, she and Sean now shared mine. Sometimes it was Milly licking my balls while Sean attended to the glans. Then their mouths en-passant, kissing momentarily mid-shaft before swapping roles.
An orgasm to negate all life's previous orgasms. My body in throws and convulsion.
Afterwards, I lay on my side with my head propped in my palm watching them make love. To see Milly fucked by another man was a first; there had only ever been girls.
Sean and Milly fucking. Their pale flesh and hair made spectral by insipid lamplight, their delicate limbs and sweet facial features becoming otherworldly, liminal. It conjured the illusion of brother and sister lying together, the divided monozygotic now made whole again. Perhaps that was Sean's appeal for Milly, the thought of his flesh so much like her own. Milly had always considered herself incomplete. Her life would become a search for a missing part of herself, one she was convinced had been denied her.
An only child, she often asked me what it was like to have a sister, whether there was ever any sexual feelings on my part for Melissa. When she had first come to stay at Cragmount, Milly would ask to see Melissa's things. I would take her through to her bedroom, and she would open Melissa's wardrobe and finger the dresses that hung within, garments chosen by Melissa with so much care now suspended in limbo awaiting an uncertain fate. She would slide open drawers looking for secrets, dip her fingers into the tumble of underwear and hold up an item to ask me what I thought.
Sweet, dead Melissa became Milly's obsession. She would appear before me wearing her clothes, shoes, perfume and jewellery, wanting me to seduce her as my sister, fuck her half-dressed. She liked nothing better than for me to roleplay, call out her name. "Say it, Richard; say her name." And I would: "Melissa!" Because it pleased her, aroused her, made her insatiable.
Her efforts to carry off the part of my faux-sister became extreme, at one time dying her hair to the same raven hue — her likeness then growing truly disturbing. She studied Melissa's photos, copied her makeup, mimicked her mannerisms with disturbing fidelity.
"What's it like to fuck your sister?" she would ask as my thrusts gathered pace. She had always looked up to Melissa, had seen her as a woman to emulate. Well, that is what I had thought. Then one night she told me how, when she was sixteen, staying over for some family event, Melissa and her friend Georgia had seduced her; with words initially, telling her how she had grown beautiful, the duckling finally a swan. And then by affection and stealth touching, palms on her fore-arms, fingers interlocked, their moist breath each side of her neck, her cheeks, finally coaxed naked between them. Melissa's tongue in her mouth had been a revelation, while Georgia's tongue swept her cunt. The older girls awoke in Milly a sense of uniqueness, made her half-believe she might be beautiful.
And though she came to know it intellectually, her new-found beauty felt a sham. She could never emotionally accept that the gorgeous creature she saw in the mirror was really herself. And so to protect herself from the fear that this gift of loveliness was transparent and that people could see beyond it, she assumed the pretence of guilelessness, a mask to shield herself from the pain of rejection saw as inevitable.
And beautiful though Melissa was too, I never had sexual feelings for my sister. In fact, I often thought her a right pain in the arse. But knowing she'd had Milly — time after time, I later learned — made me see her in a whole new light. And it thrilled Milly to play Melissa. And for my part, this perversion of hers stirred something in me for which, even now, I cannot account. And I must confess, sometimes when I fucked Milly-as-Melissa, in spite of myself, it was the imagined presence of Melissa that excited me the most.
Milly and Sean, the pair fucking as proxy siblings. Her arousal was way beyond his — mine a close second, a photo finish. I studied his body, observed its nuances of rhythm, its energy, his gauche thrustings. His flesh was dusted by a fine, silk down that captured and reflected the light, giving him the photogenic glamour of a beautiful girl.
He was propped high and looking down into Milly's eyes, which were made two saucers of euphoria. I placed my hands on his shoulders, felt the tension and strain of his muscles support. I appraised his arms from shoulder to wrists; then the length of his back, lingering at the base before moving down to his fist-tight butt. I rested my hand there, felt the power within him that he expressed in every thrust. As his hips rose and fell, I traced the line of his crack with one finger.
"I want to fuck him like he's fucking you," I whispered to Milly.
She paid me no heed, her mind cock-gorged, her inners riven by his incessant fucking. I repeated myself. His pace slackened. And then she was like someone waking, dreamily looking into my eyes, a little dazed and unsure. "Oh, Richard. That's sweet," she said. Then turning to Sean, her mind clearer now, "He wants to fuck you." As she spoke, I watched his reaction while imaging his cock still hard inside her. And then, as if clarification was required, she turned back to me, "You do mean in the arse, don't you, Richard?"
"He wants to fuck you in the arse," she said to Sean with a smile. She held his gaze as she said the words. Her glee was unmistakable.
He looked unsure. I saw him thinking it over. And then Milly was gently reassuring him, "I'll be with you. He'll be gentle. I'll make sure he is. I Promise."
Milly oversaw the preparations, brought us lube and smeared my cock. Next, her fingers with lotion as a balm, prising clenched cheeks while whispering kindness as her fingers prepared a way for me with chilled ointment. "Relax for me, sweetheart, and you'll be just fine. It doesn't' hurt after a while. He's done it to me loads of times."
I watched her arrange Sean, lifting his hips and slipping two pillows beneath his backside. She wanted us face to face — I didn't think it could be that way. His cock yearned for me, its tip hovering over his belly button. Even with that cock of his, he looked quite feminine, desirable, fuckable. He was both boy and girl.
She took charge of my cock as I kneeled between his legs. I looked into his eyes, hardly believing what was about to begin. It was a moment of connection. He smiled and nodded and then drew back his knees like a girl preparing to be fucked to the hilt.
He groaned in discomfort as she guided me into him. He was tight, and I was sure I wouldn't fit. Then Milly yanked on my cock, urging it forward until his sphincter gave and I was tunnelling into his core. It was an excavation, my cock inching slowly, pushing aside delicate tissue. His muscles gave fierce pushback, and I became afraid I would do him damage. His body fought me inch by inch.
And when he had taken all of me, he reached up with both hands to take my head between his palms and made me attend to his eyes again so that I would see what he endured. And then there was a change, some knot inside him cut so that we were fucking like heteros. Between our bodies, I sensed his cock against my abdomen as my own cock lunged and retreated. I felt him it against my midriff, its swollen mass undeniable. Milly's hand was there too, gently wanking him as I fucked him.
We ejaculated as one. I timed it so that we would. Milly's hand had become frantic between us. Holding myself back, by her rhythm and his breathing, I sensed when it was time. I wanted us to vanish together in the bliss of synchronised orgasm. Our synchronised ejaculations were glorious.
Afterwards, we lay side by side on our backs, exhausted and holding hands. Milly had left us, said she would bring us drinks. I told him he had enthralled me from the moment I first saw him, and that now I might be in love him. We kissed gently. It would be another month before he would say "I love you too."
Two months later he moved in, spent a year with us at Cragmount until going off to university. But before he moved on, he confessed how when he had first left home had slept rough, three months on the streets. Soon penniless, his meagre savings exhausted, he had been reduced to earning cash from giving blow jobs. The price of his teenage flesh had been enough to secure a deposit on his cell at Trent House. Even so, he had remained an anal virgin until Milly and me, blow jobs the only service provided to the men he went home with.
That knowledge made me feel cheated, naive, that it was he who had seduced me. And perhaps he had, but looking back, all these years on, I have to admire him, his ability to put his ego aside to earn cash to start him on the road to the life he craved. His self-debasement a gateway to financial freedom.
Years ago I found his profile on Friendsreunited, and years later I secretly followed him on Facebook. He never became a vet. A degree in biochemistry took him into pharmaceuticals, which brought him the financial security that he had always craved. Seems he is a genius, responsible for some genetic breakthrough that will save millions of lives.
His research has brought him the wealth he strived for. There are pictures of Sean and his partner, Toby, both looking affluent, distinguished. They have a home in Ireland set high on a hillside overlooking the Atlantic. In one of the photos, it could be mistaken for Cragmount.
As for Milly? She left me for a musician two years after Sean had gone off to uni'. Back then her new lover was a legend of rock, a name you would know. I hear they are divorced now. I would ask her over, say come and stay at Cragmount, but the house is long gone. After surviving the threat of that summer's conflagration, it was flames nursed in its inners that consumed the old place.
Today I am a writer of strange tales. I have a following, a reputation in the genre, one that is growing. Last year my best know story, A Grave With a View, was adapted for Netflix. Some hot-shot director.
I will always be grateful to Sean, he peeled back my layers to reveal the person I am, gave me the courage to express my sexuality openly. Now I help organise Manchester Pride, have many friends from the scene. My lover is Charles. We have brought a yacht and named it Tinkerbell II. Next year we will travel the world while our bodies and minds are still able.
Perhaps we will sail to the west coast of Ireland first..
THE END
Vera
- 14.02.2021
- 22
- 0
- Category:
- Bisexual
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