It was the summer after my sophomore year of college and I was spending my days laboring as a technical researcher for the civil engineering firm in which my Uncle Mark (happily for me) was one of the senior partners. I was pretty sure I wasn�t going to be any species of engineer after I got my degree, but the job was okay and I needed the money for school -- and at least I could be pretty certain I wasn�t going to get laid off, even with the present state of the economy.

So I was doing the whole nine-to-five thing for ten weeks, but at least my evenings and my weekends were my own. It was late on a Thursday and I was sprawled on the bed in my old room, sipping a Big Red (a weakness of taste I hide from my friends) and checking my email on my laptop. My mother hadn�t yet turned my refuge into a sewing room or anything, but I also had no intention of being forced to move back home after graduation, and had -- gently -- told her so. I figured the fading STAR WARS posters on my walls would disappear before I got my diploma, which was fine with me. On the other hand, I was an "only," so at least there were no younger siblings competing for my room. And my folks had been divorced for years, so there was only just Mom and me.

Nothing interesting in the mail, and I wasn�t really ready for bed yet, so I wandered around online for awhile, visiting a few sites I had found that provided a certain kind of entertainment. One of my acquaintances at school had pointed out to me the existence of free-access websites that collected amateur webcam footage. Somehow, I had missed discovering those for myself in high school, but lately I had become a regular visitor at some of them.

I had found plenty of clips in which the young women who stripped and posed and masturbated for the camera were obviously professionals. Those didn�t interest me much. They were too studied and blas� about the whole thing, too mechanical. No, I was drawn by the "real" girls, whose homegrown videos lacked any sort of professional production values.

It was amazing, I had discovered, the sort of things cute little teenage girls were willing to do on camera, especially when several of them got together for sleepovers and such. Dancing and prancing around in their underwear, or flashing their young tits at the lens, all for their boyfriends (I assumed) on the other end of the connection. And those boyfriends, the bastards, apparently recorded these titillating performances and posted them online.

Some of these girls went rather farther than that, too. I had downloaded several videos in which obviously high-school-age chicks, alone in their rooms, apparently let themselves be convinced, step by step, by the guys with whom they were chatting online to take off their clothes, sprawl in a chair in front of their computers, and work themselves into a state of high excitement. They usually accomplished this with their fingers, rather than with the fancy dildos many of the pros made use of. And these were girls I might know myself, theoretically -- girls I might see in class or at McDonald�s -- which was why I found them so erotic.

Okay, so I enjoyed a rich fantasy life, as they say. I dated regularly, to be sure, but that usually required money, of which I didn�t have a lot to spare. And while I was acquainted with several very nice and very attractive girls, there was no one I had lost my heart to. And with two years of school still to get through, I wasn�t looking hard for romance. And, frankly, I knew perfectly well that I was sexually attracted to girls somewhat younger than myself. Too many of the girls -- women -- I had met in college were already becoming cynical and kind of hard and calculating. Of course, that was also true to some extent back in high school -- especially with the cheerleaders and high-powered social club types -- but I had found it very common at the university, and chicks like that just didn�t do a thing for me.

By contrast, I had found myself drawn to the almost innocent sexuality of these younger girls in the webcam clips. They knew what they had, sort of, but they weren�t exactly sure what to do with it. They often seemed shy or slightly embarrassed. When they danced and wiggled their asses, they were often a little awkward and gawky. I suspected that, when they weren�t chatting with some guy on the computer, they goaded each other into exposing themselves to the camera, which was a safe venue for them when they got horny and wanted to show off, compared to being in the back seat of that same guy�s car. Their bedrooms, as seen in the background of the clips, looked just like bedrooms of the girls I had known -- those whose rooms I had been privileged to see, anyway. They wore the same junk jewelry and logo-emblazoned tee-shirts, they painted their nails in alternating colors just like the girls I had been acquainted with. They were real.

So I was lounging on my bed, trolling half-heartedly for sexy videos, and yawning. My attention was taken by a particular thumbnail and I clicked on it. It only ran two or three minutes but I found it startling. A rather slender -- okay, skinny -- young brunette sat cross-legged on her bed in a tee-shirt and panties, eyeing the camera on the computer in front of her. She seemed very young. She combed her fingers back through her rather long, curly hair, visibly took a deep breath, and quickly yanked her shirt off over her head. She sat and arched her back for the camera for a moment, then reached around and unhooked her plain white bra, sliding it down her arms and tossing it aside. Her breasts were small but what they call perky, with stiff-looking little nipples. She seemed a bit nervous but determined. I wondered who originally had been watching this performance on his own computer.

Without taking her eye off the camera, the girl smiled a little in a rather knowing way, then drew up her knees so she could slide her dark red satin panties off her ass and down her narrow legs. She sat up, tucking her feet neatly under herself, and straightened the panties in her hands, and then, with a coy expression, brought them to her lips and slowly licked the crotch several times. Wow.

The girl repositioned herself, spread her legs apart, and bent her knees, displaying a neatly trimmed dark triangle just above her crotch. She appeared to clear her throat, then leaned back on her elbows and began stroking her pussy. As she thrust a couple of fingers up inside herself, her control cracked somewhat, her lips parting and twisting as she bit down on her lower lip. That looked like an entirely natural reaction to what she was doing with her fingers, which was exactly the sort of thing that turned me on.

After a few seconds of this, the girl looked away from the camera for a moment, reaching out-of-frame and coming back with a long candle, a taper, bright red. She rubbed this slowly up and down the opening of her pussy a few times, then eased the butt end up into herself. She slid it in maybe five or six inches, then took her hand away, cocking her hips up to get a better angle of the crimson shaft protruding from between her slender thighs. Her hand moved to the side again and returned with another candle, this one a vivid green. She circled the thick end of it around below her cunt for a moment and then pushed it slowly through her sphincter and up into her ass. Her mouth twisted again as it penetrated her rectum for half its length. Then the girl took her hand away again, lifting her hips and giving her audience a slightly shaky but very sexy smile. And then the video ended.

I just sprawled there for a moment, my lips dry and my engorged cock straining almost painfully against the front of my shorts. I clicked the clip again and this time I recorded it. The third time through, I carefully examined the details of the scene, as well as the familiar way the girl�s fingers moved through her curls.

The thing was, I recognized that faded Minnie Mouse bedspread, and that cork bulletin board on the wall behind her with a selection of last February�s valentines still pinned to it. I even recognized the candles. My Aunt Claire kept them in a drawer of the sideboard in the dining room, special for Christmas use only. And I certainly recognized the girl who smiled at the camera as she stuck her mother�s Christmas tapers into the recesses of her naked young body. It was Janie, my first cousin, now fourteen years old, and much hotter than I could ever have imagined.

The thing is, I�ve lived in this house my whole life. It�s not huge, but with just Mom and me, it�s plenty big enough. Uncle Mark and Aunt Claire and their three daughters live only three blocks away, so we�re in and out of each other�s homes all the time. I was little when my parents divorced -- no one has ever told me the whole story about that, and I haven�t cared to ask -- and Mom went to work at one of those big office supply franchise stores. She�s a pretty smart lady, and within a year or two she had moved away from the cash registers and into the office. Now she was an executive in the firm�s regional headquarters and doing quite well, thank you very much. But at the beginning, Claire, who is her sister, provided a lot of moral support. (Also, I�ve often suspected, some quiet financial assistance, but that�s something else I haven�t asked about.)

Anyway, I�m enough older than my three cousins that I did a fair amount of babysitting in high school and they learned to mind me probably better than they would have obeyed an older brother. Mom says the experience taught me responsibility, which I suppose is a good thing. They�re good kids, though. I played board games with them, and watched their favorite videos with them, and moderated arguments about which Disney princess was the best. I even sometimes bathed the two younger girls, Ann and Maggie, when their parents were out late and I had to get them all into bed. But Janie, though she�s six-and-a-half years younger than me, was already at the age where she would have been incredibly embarrassed had her teenage male cousin seen her undressed, so I merely kept an ear peeled when she was in the tub. But regarding Janie�s attitude toward nudity, it seemed things had changed.

Uncle Mark�s company is located in a suburban office park, not downtown, so the commute in my ancient VW beetle is pretty short. And since I therefore have the time, and the job is so sedentary, I try to go out and run a couple of miles nearly every morning before getting showered and dressed and putting on that damn necktie. I�ve developed a favorite route around the neighborhood, away from noisy dogs and busy intersections, and it happens to take me right past Mark and Claire�s house. So early Friday morning, I was trotting along beside the curb with my earphones on, thinking about not much of anything, and as I came abreast of their place, I saw that Janie was out early herself, barefoot in shorts and a tee-shirt, hauling the big, wheeled, now-empty garbage can back up the driveway to the garage. I slowed down and she smiled and gave me a little fingertip wave, but when I stopped and pulled the buds out of my ears, she paused to see what I wanted.

I took a couple of deep breaths and leaned on the garbage can for a moment while she stood there patiently, one hip cocked. I glanced down and discovered that half her toenails were blue and the other half were orange. I was seeing her with new eyes this morning and I could feel a stirring in my shorts, so I stayed behind the can.

"Hey, I just wanted to tell you, I saw your movie last night." Janie gave me a blank look, but then I could see the realization begin to form in her eyes. "Very nice. But does your mother know what you�ve been doing with her Christmas candles?"

I watched as her face went first pale, and then red as she realized I had seen everything. She sagged a little.

"That wasn�t me!" Her voice shook a little. "I mean, someone told me they had seen that thing online, but it wasn�t me!"

I gave her a conspiratorial little smile. "Oh, Janie, it was you, all right. You were unmistakable, and so is your room in the background. But, look---" (I reached over and patted her on the arm) "---I�m not going to tell anyone. You can trust me." I paused a moment. "Probably."

Now, my little cousin is not a dummy. I couldn�t imagine how she had been so stupid or careless as to let that clip get away from her and out into the cyberworld, but generally speaking, she�s pretty sharp. The look she gave me now was measuring. She knew immediately I wasn�t intending to go and rat her out to her folks. She also knew I was talking about a little friendly blackmail.

"What do you want?" She sounded resigned, which was sort of what I wanted, and not frightened, which was also good. I mean, there was no point in scaring her.

"Well, why don�t you think about what I might want?" I gave her what I hoped was a reassuring smile. "Tomorrow�s Saturday. Mom�s got a breakfast meeting with the Kiwanis, or something, and then she�s playing in a corporate golf tournament most of the day. I have the house all to myself. Why don�t you ride your bike over for a visit around mid-morning and we can talk about it. Tell your mother you�re meeting your girlfriends at Dairy Queen."

She stared at me for a long moment and I gave her another warm smile, trying not to let it evolve into a leer. She sighed, and nodded, and tilted the garbage can back on its wheels again. And I continued my run as she resumed her plodding journey up the driveway.

I usually passed on the morning run on weekends and slept in a little, but that Saturday I was up bright and early. And at 8:30, I was seeing Mom off to her breakfast engagement.

"I hate these business breakfast buffets," she said. "Cold, watery scrambled eggs, cold, greasy bacon, and cold, oily coffee -- yum!" She grimaced. "Keith, I�m definitely going to stop on the way home tonight and fetch in Kung Pao Shrimp and Hot and Spicy Beef for dinner! Maybe Cashew Chicken, too. And Pork Fried Rice. All the carnivorous food groups." She smiled at me as she checked the supplies in the side-pockets in her golf bag for later. "You want extra Spring Rolls?"

"Absolutely," I said. "They ought to have to pay you overtime for going to company events like this on weekends."

"Hey, I�m a big-deal executive now; I don�t get overtime." I picked up the golf bag for her and we headed out to the car. "I don�t mind, really. I just wish the food was better." And two minutes later, following a kiss on the cheek, she was backing down the driveway and waving out the window as she headed off to do battle with the Kiwanis.

I went back in the kitchen and got a box of frozen waffles out of the freezer. While I waited for the oven to heat up, I thought again about my strategy where that video was concerned, and how to get what I wanted from my cousin. What I actually wanted, of course, was little Janie herself. I had watched that astounding clip at least a dozen times in the past twenty-four hours. Even at work yesterday, I couldn�t stop thinking about it. I had known that kid all her life, and I was aware that she was a cutie. But I had never, that I could recall, had what the preachers call impure thoughts about her.

Moreover, standing back, sort of, and looking at myself, I was a little surprised that I didn�t feel at all guilty about what I was attempting to do. If I had caught her shoplifting, say, and had used that knowledge to try to gain sexual favors, that would have been reprehensible. But she had already shown herself to be much more of a wild child in sexual matters than I would ever have guessed she was capable of. I was just going to introduce her to another way of enjoying her body. I was going to expand her horizons. Yeah, self-justification is a wonderful thing.

So what my strategy boiled down to was a campaign of seduction. The threats would remain in the background, unspoken, as far as I could manage it, but they were real and they would keep her from stomping off in an outraged huff while I worked my wiles on her. If I could just turn the two of us into willing co-conspirators. . . .

An hour or so later, I was standing at the sink, scrubbing the maple syrup off my plate and gazing out the window that overlooks the drive, when Janie came pedaling up. I dried my hands and opened the door that led to the garage, pressing the big button on the wall that raised the outside door so she could park her bike inside, out of sight.

She put down the kickstand and walked slowly toward the kitchen door, not looking at me, and with an expression on her narrow face like she was heading for the scaffold. Three feet away, she finally stopped and stared at me. I gave her my best smile and motioned her inside. She dropped her eyes again as she passed me in the doorway and began digging around in the pocket of her shorts.

"I have about fifty dollars saved up, in cash. You can have it."

That gave me pause. It even almost made me feel guilty.

"Janie, I don�t want your money. Really, I don�t. And I don�t want to get you in trouble with your folks, either. I just want to talk to you about this video you made of yourself and why you did it." Okay, good start, I thought. Be sympathetic. "Um, do you want some breakfast?"

She glanced at me from under her long lashes. "No, thanks. I couldn�t eat anything this morning."

More guilt, eh? So that was going to be *her* strategy. I took her hand in mine and began to lead her out into the hall. "Let�s go upstairs, shall we?"

She immediately dug in her heels and I stopped. I looked at her patiently. "My laptop is upstairs. I want to show you some things. Come on, Janie, you�re going to have to trust me here. Do you really think I was planning to throw you on the floor and rape you?" I waited.

"Well, . . . no. I guess not." She began blinking rapidly, trying to hold back the tears. "But -- but -- I don�t know what you want! Please don�t hurt me, Keith!" She sniffled, and it wasn�t an act. The girl was frightened, and I truly didn�t want that.

"Janie, sweetheart," I whispered as I stroked her curls, "I�m not going to hurt you. I promise you, I�m not. I�ve always been your friend, and I always will be." I tilted her chin up. "Now, let�s go on upstairs. Everything�s going to be okay." She looked up at me and wiped the few tears from her cheeks. She stared at me a long few seconds -- my young cousin has developed an unnerving stare -- then swallowed and nodded, and took my hand again.

When we reached the door to my room, she hesitated again, even though she had been in there many times over the years. I suppose it was the sight of my queen-sized bed, lurking there in the middle of the room. I let go of her hand and went over to my desk to retrieve my laptop, which I had left plugged in overnight. I tossed it casually on the bed, which I had been careful to make up that morning, bedspread smoothed up tight and everything (it seemed less threatening than showing her my rumpled sheets), and sprawled in front of it. As I opened it up, I motioned to Janie to join me. When you�re a kid and you�re visiting someone else�s bedroom, you almost always end up sitting on the bed, right? Because not many kids have sofas or armchairs in their rooms. So she came over almost automatically and climbed up on the bed beside me.

"Now, when exactly did you make this video? And, for God�s sake, why? And have you watched it again recently?" I drilled down a couple of directories and clicked on the clip. It opened at full-screen size and we sat there and watched Janie playing with her candles. Or, rather, she watched it. I watched her.

"Um. It was like three or four months ago, I think. I watched it once, I guess, right afterwards. But not since then, really." She couldn�t take her eyes off the screen and there was a lovely flush spreading from her ears over her cheeks and down her neck.

"You know, Janie, that�s just about the sexiest thing I ever saw," I said softly.

She flicked me a glance. "Yeah? Really?" There was almost a smile there.

"So, did you do this for your boyfriend, or what?"

She swallowed as the clip came to an end. "No, I don�t have a regular boyfriend. I just--- I wanted to see what it was like to make a porn film, sort of. I was talking about doing something like this with one of my friends, and we decided to each do one, and then swap them."

"Ah. You posed for this because you were feeling horny. You wanted to see how sexy you could be, right?"

She shrugged. "Yeah, I guess." I didn�t say anything so she went on. "I get these feelings, . . . you know."

"So, anyway, you have your friend�s video, then?"

"Not anymore. We agreed to erase them after we�d watched them. And I did. I guess she didn�t, though. I wish now I hadn�t given it to her."

No shit, I thought. Some friend.

"You made just this one video, then? No sequels?"

"Just that one." She looked up at me again. "You really think it�s that sexy, though?"

"Oh, absolutely. In fact---" (and here I gave her my most winning smile) "---I would like you to do me a favor, Janie. I want you to reenact it for me. Just you and me, no camera. A private showing."

Another long, silent moment.

"You want me to take off my clothes?"

"Janie, I�ve already seen you do far more than that, haven�t I? I just want to see it all again, live." I leaned back on one elbow. "That�s my price to keep all this to myself, sweetheart. I want to watch you doing what you�ve already done, but close-up." So there it was.

"But---" She looked at me, then at the laptop screen, where the frozen image of her with the two Christmas candles protruding from between her legs still filled the screen. Then back at me. "How do I know. . . ?" She didn�t have to finish the question.

"Like I said, you�ll just have to trust me." And I waited. This was the crucial moment. Would she rat me out and take her chances on how her folks would react to the video? If I had been a stranger, she almost certainly would have, but we had known each other a long time, and I think that was what decided her.

Shifting to a sitting position, Janie slowly pulled the tee-shirt over her head. Her barely AAA-cup bra was pale blue today, with a bit of lace trim along the edge. Very girly and it suited her perfectly. She tossed the shirt aside, still without looking at me, and unbuttoned the front of her shorts, pushing them down her legs. Her panties matched the bra and I had to wonder whether she had anticipated this performance, and dressed accordingly.

She hesitated a moment and then reached behind and unhooked the bra, sliding it down her arms and tossing it in the growing pile of clothing. Her breasts appeared slightly larger now than in her video and her nipples seemed nice and stiff. I wondered if she was becoming excited or if they were always that way.

"Very nice. You really are sexy, Janie."

She looked up at me with a slightly startled expression, then kept her eyes on my face as she hooked her fingers in the elastic of her panties and pushed them down, too, just like in the film. Then she leaned back on her arms and spread her legs apart for me, knees bent. There was a change here, too; sometime in the past few months, she had shaved her pussy. And I noted there were no tears or hysterics. She seemed only to be watching me for my reaction.

Well, I was certainly reacting. My mouth was a little dry and my pulse had increased. And my own shorts were becoming uncomfortably tight.

"Masturbate for me, baby. I want you to play with yourself, just like you did before."

She blinked at the word and unconsciously licked her lips. Then one hand crept down between her legs and she began slowly stroking her cunt lips and her clit. Her eyes seemed to grow a little heavy. It was amazing how much all this was turning me on.

I unsnapped my shorts and my little cousin jerked at the sound. Her hand froze. "Don�t panic," I said. "I want to jerk off while I watch you jerking off. Fair�s fair, right?" I got rid of my shirt and shorts in a hurry and sat back for a moment while Janie stared at my engorged penis. "You see the effect you have on me, sweetheart?"

I began moving my hand up and down my dick and Janie, without appearing to think about it, resumed her own stroking. "Janie, have you ever seen one of these?" She shook her head. "Listen, I�m going to move over there next to you, okay?" She didn�t say anything but when I shifted position so my body was next to hers, she didn�t flinch. And when I rolled onto my side, she turned over to face me, left knee bent and fingers still moving up and down her cunt.

"Does that feel good, Janie?" I asked softly. "What does it feel like when you rub yourself like that?"

She had to clear her throat before she could answer. "It feels like electricity between my legs," she murmured. "It feels really good."

"Do you like watching me jerk off, Janie?"

After a moment, she nodded again, staring at my moving hand. "Yeah. I like watching you. Are you going to come?"

"You can bet on it -- but I don�t want to come just yet." I made myself stop and I sat up. "Because you aren�t finished yet, are you?" I reached over to my bedside table, opened the bottom drawer, and pulled out the make-shift toy I had stashed there earlier.

I held up the fat cucumber for Janie�s inspection and her eyebrows climbed and her jaw dropped. "You want me to, . . . to do it . . . with *that*?"

I smiled at her aghast-ness. "I know it�s bigger that Aunt Claire�s candles, but it�s what I had available on short notice. And if you compare it with the real thing," I added, displaying its green length beside my dick, "you�ll see there�s not much difference. I really don�t think it�s any harder than my cock, right at this moment. The only difference is, it�s green."

I handed it to her and she sat up and turned it over and over in her hands. She looked back at my penis and I made it twitch, which made her blink. Then she smiled. "You have a really dirty mind, Keith."

"Oh? And who made that video, all on her own, with no pressure from anyone? Come on, sweetheart, you know you�re getting off on this." Fortunately for me, it was obvious she really was.

With another small smile, Janie slowly rubbed the cucumber up and down the opening of her cunt a few times, then carefully eased it into herself. As it began to penetrate her depths, she drew a shaky breath and her mouth twisted -- again, just like in the video. Then she began pushing it in and pulling it out again -- something she hadn�t done with the candles -- and the flush on her face spread down over her collarbone and across her small breasts.

God, this was just too much. I couldn�t hold back any longer. Scooting up quickly so that my cock was adjacent to her chest, I stroked myself a couple more times while my own electrical tingling built up, then leaned forward and let my semen shoot across my little cousin�s tits. She jerked in response and stared down at herself, at the oozing trails of cum, then glanced at me with a slightly shocked look.

It took me a few moments to catch my breath, during which I squeezed out the last of my come, wiping the opening in my cock across the nearest nipple. She just watched, not pulling back.

"Janie, sweetheart, you have no idea how much you turn me on. You really, really do." That got me another small smile. Then I reached down to the hand with the cucumber still inside her and guided it out. The green skin glistened from her obviously wet cunt. "You�re enjoying this, too, aren�t you? You know you are."

She looked down at the cucumber in her hand, which was in my hand, then back at my face. "Maybe. A little, I guess."

"Well, as I said, I figure you wouldn�t have made that famous video in the first place if the idea of it didn�t turn *you* on. Am I right?" She nodded. "Do you masturbate a lot?"

"Well, maybe three or four times a week. I dunno -- is that a lot?"

"I couldn�t tell you -- but it certainly won�t hurt you. Tell me -- do you ever put anything in your ass? Like that green candle?"

"Um. No. I, uh, I can�t reach back there with my fingers."

"Lift your legs up, babe." She released the cucumber and raised her legs, pulling her knees back and hooking her hands behind them. Her little brown-rimmed sphincter came into view. She seemed to have capitulated entirely to whatever I wanted her to do. I touched my middle finger to her lips. "Suck."

She took my finger into her mouth and ran her tongue all around it, watching my face all the while. And then, when I began pressing the tip of my wet finger against her asshole, she inhaled with a hiss and closed her eyes. With a slow, corkscrewing motion, I pushed my finger all the way into her ass, then slid it out, then went back in. I could feel her rectal muscles twitching and pulling at it.

"You like that?"

"Yes-s-s-s-s-s. . . ."

"Good. Now, just relax. This may hurt a little, just for a moment." And I began pushing the cucumber into her ass. She tried to pull back for an instant, then apparently changed her mind and sort of hunched her narrow hips upward. I was a little amazed that it went in so easily, but after thirty seconds or so, half the cucumber was inside her. I took my hand away and watched as it moved back and forth slightly in response to the movement of her internal muscles. I tapped my finger against the protruding end and Janie gasped and jerked. I took hold of the end of it again and rotated it. It was slightly curved and I could imagine it moving around inside her gut. Then I resumed pushing it up into her and by the time all eight or ten inches had disappeared, little Janie was gasping and trembling. Incredible.

After a couple minutes of watching her face -- Janie seemed to be off in another world -- I slowly withdrew the cucumber and tossed it on the floor. I would have to wash it off and then return it to the crisper. I wondered when Mom would next decide to make a salad. Janie�s legs slumped to the bed and she lay there naked, watching my face with a rather puzzled expression.

"I didn�t know what to expect when you made me come over here, Keith. I was afraid, . . . well, that you were going to do something really mean and awful and terrible to me. I didn�t know what it might be -- but it wasn�t this." She turned on her side to face me. "I didn�t know I could get this horny, either. God."

My naked little cousin lay there silently, calmly, examining my face, waiting to see what was going to happen next. So what could I do? I reached out and put my arms around her and she scooted up against me, the top of her head tucked under my chin, my penis pressed along her thigh. And I tilted her head back and leaned down and kissed her.

Now, I�ve kissed my share of girls, "with intent," as they say -- but never one I was closely related to, and never one this young. And it was very, very arousing, slipping my tongue into her mouth while she pressed her hand against my chest. I reached down and stroked her stiff nipple with my thumb, which made her twitch and press against me harder. I kissed a path all over her face, eyelids to ear-tips, and from the way she melted into it, I could tell all this was also a new experience for her. And that she liked it.

I slid my hand down her back and over her small ass, cupping and squeezing it, and then I pushed her onto her back and let my hand move down between her legs. As I stroked her clit -- which was even stiffer than her nipple -- I began kissing her again, and she moaned into my mouth when my finger moved up into the wetness of her cunt. She spread her legs farther apart and humped my hand, and after a minute or two, she flung her arms around my head while her hips writhed and her trembling thighs clamped tight on my hand. She jerked a couple of times, then relaxed with a sigh.

"Oh. My. God," she whispered. "I made myself come before, but it never felt like that."

"It�s kind of too bad we didn�t have the webcam set up this time," I said. "You could relive the moment whenever you wanted."

"Well, . . . maybe I could relive it with you, Keith. We kind of have something on each other now, don�t we?" Her smile this time was conspiratorial. "I could get you in trouble and you could get me in trouble. What do they call that -- Mexican something?"

"You mean a Mexican standoff?"

"Yeah. Anyway, I think we�re even now."

Maybe. But I had a feeling Janie and I were going to become a lot more even in the near future.

Copyright 2012 by Michael K. Smith. Copies may be made and posted elsewhere for personal enjoyment, but all commercial rights are reserved.