Muddy Waters

By MichaelD38

DISCLAIMER AND AUTHOR'S NOTE:

This work contains explicit descriptions of sexual activity, and anyone offended by such things should read no further. If reception of this work is illegal due to your age or other repressive local regulations, liability for downloading it is your problem, not mine. This work is intended solely for the quiet and private enjoyment of adults, and any other use is a violation of the copyright.

Reposting and archiving is permitted, except where a fee of any sort is required or earned for access (this prohibition includes banner-funded sites and fee-based age validation methods), provided this disclaimer and note remain attached to the story. All other rights, specifically rights of commercial use, are reserved. In plain English: I am the only person who may use this story to make money. If you are attempting to earn money in any way from distributing this story or making it available to others, you are in trouble. You are also in trouble if you modify this story in any way, no matter what else you do with it. Any questions regarding use of this work can be directed to the address below. Failure to contact the author prior to use is presumptive evidence of bad faith and may expose you to significant criminal and civil liability.

Faithful readers: This story is a sort of prequel to "Swimming Upstream." What that means is that much of what I describe here actually happened. I prefer to call it a work of fiction, though, because I have taken some significant liberties with the truth (as I also did in "Swimming Upstream"). This piece is short and sweet and somewhat lacking in depth, but I think you will enjoy it anyway. It represents a part of an ongoing project of mine that I will explain when the time is right. The slavering fanatics among you (you know who you are) may be able to guess at it. (FYI to those who keep asking: *Yes,* I am still working on "Fanny Hill." Try to be patient. We will post no porn before its time.)

Apologies to the great blues musician Muddy Waters, who has no connection to me or to this story. The title is meant as a play on words and as a thematic link to the previous work.

Feel free to e-mail me if you have questions or comments. Intelligent comments and criticisms will receive appropriate responses. Flames and juvenile slobbering go straight to the recycling bin.

Muddy Waters

When I was younger, my Uncle Richard owned some land in New Hampshire. He bought it with another doctor friend of his, intending to use it as a vacation spot. The area was heavily forested and completely undeveloped, so much so that he and his friend had to hack a dirt road through the woods to get to the center of the parcel, where a small stream cut through the hillside. They dammed the creek to make a muddy swimming hole and built a cabin there a few years later. He eventually sold the place after five or six years because he wasn't using it enough to justify the expense.

The land was not particularly memorable. It was, I would guess, about twenty or thirty acres altogether. The stream was about the only interesting portion of the place, and even that was taken over by beavers and frogs soon after they built the swimming hole. I remember my uncle's hideaway for only one meaningful reason: it's where I lost my virginity.

I have a fairly large family, but as it's scattered across the country, I grew up not seeing many of them for lengthy periods of time. Richard is my father's brother, and he (back then at least, he's since gotten divorced) was married with two kids. If I saw them once a year, that was doing well. A few times, I went two or three years without seeing any of them. They lived in Boston and we lived in Texas, so getting together required a major trip, and given the state of my father's relationship with his brother, the motivation for such was often lacking.

At the risk of giving away the entire plot of this little tale, I should describe my cousins. Richard's daughter Melissa is a year younger than I am. Her brother, Richard, jr., is the same age as my younger sister. When this incident took place, I was sixteen, Melissa was fifteen, and Richard and my sister Sarah were both ten. I'm sure you can guess what's going to happen now, but I entreat you to continue anyway.

Melissa was not (nor is she now) what anyone would call drop-dead gorgeous. She is, however, fairly cute. She has light brown hair and brown eyes, and is about five-seven with a slim build. She has always been impish and outgoing, which is probably what led to this story.

I had not seen any of them for about three years, the last time we had been back to Boston. That summer, my father and Richard had managed something of a rapprochement, and they decided that the families should vacation together in July. Richard suggested we all go camping for a few days on his new acquisition in New Hampshire, and my father agreed. Thus began this sordid little adventure.

II.

"Oh, this can't be it, can it?" my mother moaned.

I watched over the front seatback of our rented car as Richard's Range Rover turned onto a muddy dirt road ahead of us.

"Looks like it," my father said.

"I guess he wasn't kidding about it being rustic. I can't believe Elizabeth is willing to put up with this."

My Aunt Liz was a proper Boston wife from Beacon Hill, and I could already imagine what this trip was going to be like. Richard had wanted to spend the whole week up here, but she had insisted we stay no longer than four days. We would be here from Thursday to Sunday, when my family would be flying home.

"I don't think she's too happy about it," my father said.

"It looks pretty," Sarah said.

"Didn't he say there were bears up here?" I asked.

My sister immediately began whining.

"There are bears?"

My mother sighed.

"Honey, there are no bears here."

"There might be," I said.

"Stephen, stop it."

My father reached around to pat Sarah's head.

"Honey, I don't think there have been any bears in these woods for a hundred years."

Sarah glared at me, sticking out her tongue. I just grinned.

We followed the road for about two hundred yards until we reached the end, a small clearing at the base of a hill. There we began the process of unloading.

"The campsite is up at the top of the hill," Richard said. "The pond is at the bottom of the far side."

It took us about ten minutes to lug all our gear up to the campsite. The cabin Richard and his friend intended to build would stand on this spot, but right now it was nothing but a cleared area of dirt with a rock-ringed campfire in the center.

As the rest of us began unpacking, my Aunt Liz just stood in the middle of everything, hands on her hips.

"Isn't this just lovely? And where are we supposed to take care of our personal business?"

"We have to dig a latrine," Richard said. "I told you that."

That precipitated a quiet argument for several minutes, which I tried to ignore. Melissa appeared at my side as I tried to get our tent up. The initial plan had been for the adults to take one tent each, while the four kids all shared the third.

We struggled with it for a few minutes before either of us said anything.

"I guess your mom doesn't like this."

"She hates it. Dad had to practically drag her up here. This is the first time she's been up."

"What about you?"

"I came up once with him. I like it."

"What's the pond like?"

"It's a little muddy. But it's okay. It's just not that big."

We finally got the tent up, during which Liz stalked back down the hill to their car. She sat in the Range Rover stewing for about an hour before reappearing for dinner.

Meanwhile, we moved our stuff into the tent. The four of us argued over the sleeping arrangements for a few minutes before deciding that the boys would sleep on one side, the girls on the other, with the two younger kids on the outside since they were smaller than Melissa and me. Then we all changed into bathing suits and went down to the pond.

As I hope I have made clear, this pond wasn't anything to get excited about. I'm guessing that it could not have more than fifty or sixty feet across, and about a hundred feet long. Richard and his friend had created it by piling up fallen trees and rocks at the end of a wide spot in the stream. According to Richard, it had taken an entire weekend of dragging things around to create the dam. Then they had built a small raft and anchored it in the center.

The ground had not yet adjusted to the higher water level, so the banks of the pond were still very soft. Sarah and Richard refused to get into the deeper areas, since the water was green and murky. They ended up playing the mud together near where the stream entered the pond. Melissa and I swam out to the float and lay on top of it.

"Not much, huh?" she asked.

"It's okay."

"I'd rather go to Walden Pond or some place like that, but Dad is just obsessed with making this place the family getaway."

"I guess there are some things you could do to make it nicer."

"Yeah. There are some neat spots, if you go up the stream a ways. It's not all as gross as this. There's a place where you can catch crawfish."

Melissa was wearing a yellow flower-print bikini, and I tried not to stare at her too much--which is to say I was trying to stare without being obvious about it. It wouldn't be precisely accurate to say I lusted after my cousin, because at sixteen, I lusted after every reasonably attractive girl who crossed my path, regardless of who they were. So the salacious thoughts spinning through my head at that moment weren't anything unusual.

"We should go up there."

"Maybe later. I wanted to work on my tan."

She opened up the suntan lotion she had brought with her and commenced putting it on. I hoped she would have me put some on her back, which she did. I kept the contact proper, though the feel of it gave me an instant boner, which did not subside when she began putting the lotion on my back. Mortified at the thought she might see it, I quickly lay on my stomach.

"Do you have a girlfriend?" she asked me about ten minutes later.

"No."

"Why not?"

"I don't know."

"Do you go out on dates, though?"

"Not really."

"Why not?"

"I don't know."

"Aren't there any girls you like?"

"I guess."

"Why don't you ask them out?"

"I don't know."

She laughed.

"There's a lot you don't know."

I blushed.

"Are you just too shy to ask them out? Is that it?"

"Maybe."

"You shouldn't be shy. I bet there are a lot of girls who would go out with you."

I didn't know what to say to that.

"Do you have a boyfriend?"

"Sort of. I don't know if he really qualifies as a boyfriend. My folks don't let me date that much."

"You go out on dates?"

"Sure. Guys ask me out. My folks are okay about it as long as I go out with friends. They won't let me go out alone with a guy yet. Although I do it anyway."

"You sneak out?"

"No, I just go with some friends, then split up."

She lifted her head off her arms, moving a little closer.

"Have you ever kissed a girl before?"

"Uh . . . yeah."

"When?"

"It was a while ago."

"When you were a kid? That doesn't count."

"Well. No, then."

"I've kissed a few guys. I let one go up my shirt once."

My erection rebounded at the mental image of some guy with his hand up Melissa's blouse.

"Your boyfriend?"

"It was about a month ago. You've never gone parking like that?"

"No."

"Are the girls in Texas different? Like more uptight about sex?"

"I don't know."

"Huh. I wonder. I always thought Southern girls were like that."

"I don't know what the girls up here are like."

"Oh. Yeah. Like how could you compare, I guess. Some of my friends have had sex. I guess the kids at my school are pretty mature. We sure talk about sex all the time."

I squirmed on the raft, my aching erection making me very uncomfortable. I decided to slide off the raft into the water in hopes of cooling it down. I hung on the edge of the raft, and Melissa came up partially on her elbows. She had her top undone, so she came close to exposing herself, although nothing dangerous was yet showing. I tried not to stare, as I said before.

"God," she said. "This weekend is going to be so boring. There's nothing up here to do."

Little did she know, I wonder now.

III.

The adults--except for my Aunt Liz--came down to swim a while later. Melissa asked her father where her mother was, and got only a mumbled reply. Apparently the fight was still unresolved. Melissa and I went swimming around the pond, stopping to examine the dam for about ten minutes. By then it was getting dark, and we all went back up the hill to eat. Liz was waiting for us, a sour expression on her face.

We cooked hamburgers over the fire, then roasted marshmallows and burnt sticks for a while. Liz went into her tent as soon as dinner was over and did not reappear. My parents drifted into their tent a bit later, and only Richard remained out with the kids.

"Are there bears up here?" my sister asked him.

"No. No bears, although there is plenty of wildlife."

"Wolves?" Melissa asked. I glanced at her, and she gave me a malicious grin.

"I don't know. It's possible there are a few left."

"Werewolves?" little Richard asked.

"Yes, lots of werewolves," Melissa said.

Uncle Richard laughed.

"There's no such thing as werewolves."

"But are there real wolves here?" Sarah asked.

"There might be."

Richard, the doctor--he was a psychiatrist, no less, did I mention that?--was oblivious to the effect he was having on little Richard and Sarah.

Sarah whimpered.

"Would they attack us?"

"I doubt you'll see any. Most of what's up here are deer and smaller animals."

"But there could be wolves?" Melissa said.

"It's possible. There were once wolves over most of the continental United States. They've retreated north as the country was settled. But it's definitely possible there could be a few left out here."

I glanced at Melissa again. She could scarcely contain her glee at frightening the two younger kids out of their wits.

Richard stood up.

"I think it's time to go to bed. You kids finish up."

Melissa and Sarah went into our tent to change into their pajamas, while I helped my uncle clean up the campsite. Sarah emerged a minute or so later with her sleeping bag in her arms. She carried it to our parent's tent and poked her head inside.

"Mommy, can I sleep with you?"

I heard my mother groaning.

"Why, honey?"

"I'm scared of the wolves."

"What wolves?"

"Uncle Richard says there's wolves out here."

Mom stuck her head out the gap in tent.

"Richard? What on earth?"

"They asked about the wildlife. I just mentioned that there might be some of them out here."

"Mommy, please?"

She groaned again.

"Oh, all right."

Sarah slipped into the tent. With the need to keep up a facade gone, little Richard immediately insisted on sleeping with my aunt and uncle, "because of the wolves." I heard Richard and Liz arguing quietly, but they eventually let him. That left Melissa and me alone in the kids' tent.

Melissa laughed herself silly into her pillow for a few minutes after we shut the tent.

"Oh, God, that was too funny. My Dad is so clueless. I knew he would go on about it once I asked him."

"My sister tends to be scared of wild animals. She always has been."

"My brother too, though he tries to act like he isn't."

We lay awake reading in the light from our flashlights for a while. I tried not to think too much about having her right there next to me, but the idea of somehow fooling around with her kept popping into my head. I knew it would be wrong, but my hormones were in overdrive in those days, and part of me kept wondering if there were a way to rationalize it.

Eventually we shut off the lights and went to sleep. Or at least tried. I wasn't used to sleeping in a sleeping bag, and I spent a while tossing and turning. I could hear Melissa rolling around too, though it was absolutely pitch dark with the lights off, so I couldn't tell if she was actually asleep.

After one of the rotations in my bag, I laid my hand down on something that I immediately realized was Melissa's hand. I started to move it off, but my hormones roared into action, insisting that I could pretend I had done it in my sleep. I left my hand where it was.

After a few seconds, Melissa's hand started to move, very, very slowly sliding her thumb against one of my fingers. My heart leapt into my throat. Something might actually be happening here. I dared to move my thumb against her hand, and she responded by slowly moving the finger I was stroking.

Unable to stop myself, I gently closed my hand around hers. She let me, even squeezing my hand softly. For a few minutes, we moved our hands slowly against each other. I could just hear her breathing beside me, coming faster than it should have been. She was clearly as nervous about this as I was.

I heard her moving, and a second later, her other hand slid out. She took my hand between hers. She played with my fingers gently for a minute or two. I let her do it, heart pounding.

I realized she was pulling on me, pulling my hand toward her. I relaxed my arm, and she pulled my hand into her sleeping bag. A second later, she was pressing my hand against her breast.

Almost sick to my stomach with nervousness, I explored what she was giving me. She lay on her side, and her breast hung down just slightly. I could feel the soft flesh through the fabric of her pajamas. I found what I thought was her nipple, realizing it was getting stiff.

She kept her hands on mine as I felt her up. When I moved over, feeling her other breast, her hands moved with me. Then one hand left, and I realized she was pulling up her pajama top. I felt the fabric moving under my hand, and a moment later, I felt the warm flesh of her torso.

Now I could feel her breasts more directly, and I moved closer to her. Her hands moved off mine, and I felt her reaching for my face. She found my head and pulled me closer. Very gingerly, since it was too dark to see anything, we began to kiss.

I squirmed closer to her in my sleeping bag, moving it until I was right next to her. I kissed her awkwardly for a few minutes, fondling her breasts as I did. She lay next to me, hands on my waist, stroking me gently. She had braces, which sent chills down my spine whenever I touched them with my tongue. I had, as I told her, never really kissed anyone before, and had certainly never french-kissed anyone as I was doing now. But if I was doing something wrong, I couldn't tell from the way Melissa was acting.

This probably went on for about ten minutes before the novelty of feeling her breasts began to wear off, and I wondered if she would let me do anything else. Very slowly, I stopped playing with her breasts and moved my hand downward. When I reached the waist of her pajama bottoms, she went limp next to me, not moving at all. I froze, waiting for her to stop me.

She didn't. She just lay there kissing me weakly. I slipped just the tips of my fingers under the waistband, then stopped. Nothing happened. Moving as slowly as I could, I lowered my hand until it was resting on her abdomen, fingers still just inside her pajama bottoms. She was breathing hard, but still showed no signs of wanting me to stop. We had stopped kissing, but still kept our faces close together. Her hand was still on my waist, opening and closing slowly.

With my heart hammering in my chest, I slid my hand carefully into her pajamas. When I felt the first strands of her pubic hair, I stopped. What the hell was I doing? I was about to go to third base with my own cousin. Momentarily losing my nerve, I froze. What was I supposed to do now?

Melissa seemed to sense my indecision, and her hand moved from my waist to my arm. Very gently, she pulled my arm downward. Getting the message, I continued, and she kept her arm laid over mine.

Not sure at all what to do, I began exploring. Melissa pulled her thigh up, opening herself a little more. I knew only the most basic elements of female anatomy back then, but I soon found what I was fairly sure was the spot at issue. I poked through the warm folds, finding her moisture at the center. I slipped my fingertip into her. The sensation of her heat and wetness tight around me almost made me come then and there. I moved a little further in, meeting some resistance once I got past the first knuckle. So that was it, I thought. This is what gets "popped" the way I often heard my friends joking about.

I knew enough about sex to know that it was possible for girls to masturbate the way boys did. Did Melissa? I wasn't about to ask her, but that seemed like the thing for me to do now, except that I had no clue about how to go about it. I began moving my fingers over her, hoping I was coming close.

Melissa stirred once again, and moved her hand down my arm. Thinking she was about to stop me, I started to withdraw. Not quite. She took my hand and began to guide it over her, moving my fingers over the small nub I had noticed near the top of her sex. I tried to mimic her motions, and once I seemed to have it down, she pulled her hand back slightly, though she still kept it on my wrist.

I kept up like that for a few minutes, during which Melissa got wetter and wetter. My fingers were soon soaked in her fluids, which I used to lubricate myself. Her breathing was hot and heavy against my chest, and I occasionally felt her twitching next to me. All at once (at least it seemed that way to me, in my rank inexperience), Melissa went rigid, and her hand clamped tightly onto my wrist. I kept playing with her, and she jerked a few times next to me.

She showed no indication of wanting me to stop, so I didn't. A minute or two later, it happened again. Her hand gripped my wrist, she shuddered next to me for a few seconds, and then she relaxed. My hand was starting to get tired, but I didn't want to stop for fear that this would end. She came again (I knew now what was going on) a few minutes later, and this time she did stop me. I pulled my hand out and slid it up to her waist, feeling like I had just done something very wrong.

Before I could say or do anything, though, I felt Melissa's hand reaching into my sleeping bag. She explored for a few seconds before finding my penis, which was painfully erect and gooey with my own secretions. She slipped her fingers through the fly of my pajamas and took my penis into her hand.

Paralyzed at the very idea of what she meant to do, I remained still as she started to stroke me awkwardly. It took only about ten or twenty seconds of it before I reached the critical point. I stopped her, not wanting to come all over myself.

"What?" she asked softly.

"It will make a mess."

She withdrew from my sleeping bag and sat up. I heard her digging around on her side of the tent for a few seconds. Then she returned, pressing something into my hand. I realized it was a wad of Kleenex.

Her hand returned to my erection, and I held the Kleenex over it. Ten seconds later, she brought me off.

We lay together for about ten minutes. She kept her hand on my erection until it had faded, but remained snuggled next to me. Both of us probably wanted to say something, but didn't. Eventually she rolled over, and we fell asleep.

IV.

I awoke with the sun, facing the side of the tent. I was awake for only a few seconds before remembering what had happened the night before. The wad of Kleenex was where I had left it, shoved into the corner of the tent.

I listened carefully, hearing Melissa's breathing behind me. Very, very slowly (so as not to wake her up) I rolled over. She seemed to be asleep. As I stared at her, it almost seemed as if last night's activities had taken place with someone else. It had been pitch dark through the entire encounter, and the image of her I saw now didn't quite mesh with my memories of the night before.

I heard someone moving outside the tent, and peeked out to see my Uncle Richard beginning to prepare breakfast. Melissa stirred in her sleeping bag, and I realized she was waking up. Our eyes met for a brief, awkward second before looking away.

It was like that the rest of the morning. Every now and then, I would catch her looking at me, or she would catch me looking at her, and we would instantly glance away in embarrassment. Neither of us said more than ten words to anyone, let alone each other.

Richard took us (minus Liz and my mother, who stayed behind) on a hike around the property before lunch. Little Richard discovered a few red and black salamanders, and carried them around with him the rest of the day. Sarah seemed intrigued by them, though she refused to touch them. Richard and my father talked about how he had bought the land and what he wanted to do with it. Melissa and I said nothing and continued avoiding each other.

After lunch, we went back to the pond. After swimming around for a few minutes, wondering how I had gotten myself into this, I stopped on the raft to rest, hanging myself off it on my arms.

I noticed a moment later that Melissa was swimming toward me. This time, we held our gaze for a few seconds, and she floated up next to me, hanging off the end of the raft around the corner from where I was. I looked away from her once she got in place.

"Are you mad at me?"

I glanced back.

"No."

"You're acting like you are."

"I'm sorry."

"You don't need to make such a big deal about it. It doesn't make us boyfriend-girlfriend or anything."

"I know."

She shrugged, looking down at the raft.

"I liked it. Didn't you?"

I nodded, not sure what to say.

"So you're not mad at me?"

"No."

"I still want us to be friends, okay?"

"Yeah."

She pulled herself out of the water onto the raft. She lay down in the sun, and I climbed up next to her. I looked around the pond at the others. Sarah and Richard were playing with his salamanders by the dam. Our folks were sitting in the shade talking, just up the hill toward the campsite. No one was paying any attention to us.

I lay down next to Melissa, staring up at the sky. I felt her fingers moving next to mine. A moment later we were holding hands.

I came close to dozing off, not coming back to earth until Melissa sat up next to me.

"Do you want to go see that place with the crawfish?"

"Okay."

She slipped into the water, and I followed her. When we got to the shore, we dried off, wrapping towels around us, and Melissa put her beach bag over her shoulder.

"Dad?" she called out.

"What, honey?"

"I'm going to show Stephen that place up the creek where the crawfish are."

"Okay. Don't be gone too long."

"You should put on your shoes," she said to me. "It's kind of a hike."

She led me up the creek for about ten minutes. This part of the land was much prettier than the area around the pond, being far less muddy and disrupted. She finally stopped at a bend in the stream, where a broad area about ten feet across had backed up behind a pair of boulders. She squatted down on the moss at the stream edge and poked around in the water.

"They're in here somewhere."

She turned over a rock, revealing a pair of small gray-green lobster-shaped things that scrambled backwards into another crevice.

"Did you see them?"

"Yeah."

I turned over a few more rocks before finding another. I tried to catch it, but it was too fast. Then it backed between a pair of rocks, and I was able to get a grip on it. I pulled it out of the water and showed Melissa. She gingerly examined it, squeaking in fright when it tried to grab her with a claw.

We played around in the creek for a few minutes before all the crawfish had escaped into better hiding places. Melissa laid her towel on the soft earth behind us and sat down. I sat down next to her and stretched out.

We were quiet for about ten seconds, not looking at each other, before she spoke up.

"Do you want to make out?"

Shocked--and also thrilled--I couldn't respond, but she saw the answer in my face. We inched closer together and began kissing.

We lay next to one other as we had the night before, kissing softly. What I remember most of that afternoon was the scent of it--the earthy smell of the loam under her towel, the faint odor of sweat the New England humidity had summoned, the fruity, girlish perfume Melissa wore. She let me take her bikini top off, and I sat up a little to look at the breasts I had only been able to feel the night before.

She wasn't very big, nowhere near a complete handful, but neither was she what you could call small-breasted--probably the typical 34B. Her nipples were small and pink, somewhat underdeveloped. She had a good tan, and the smooth white skin of her breasts stood out in strong contrast to the rest of her.

She lay on her back watching me examine her, a little nervous and self-conscious.

"I know I'm not that big."

"I like them."

"You do?"

"Yeah."

"I thought guys liked big boobs."

"I guess some of us do. But you're still really pretty."

"I am?"

"Yeah."

"Thanks. I think you're cute too."

We went back to kissing after that, and I dared to slide down a little to suck on her breasts. She let me, holding my head in her arms. I sucked on one nipple, then the other, until I had them stiff and swollen.

"That feels good," she said a few minutes into it.

But when I slid a hand down toward her bikini bottoms, she stopped me.

"Not out here, okay?"

I nodded. She was probably right. I pulled back from her breasts and went back to kissing her. I felt her hands moving between us, and one of them settled over the erection that was tenting out my swim trunks. She giggled as she felt it.

"You've got a boner."

"Yeah."

She squeezed it.

"How does it get so hard? It starts out soft, right?"

"I don't know."

She untied my trunks and slipped her hand inside. Apparently being "out here" only applied to her. She tried to stroke me as she had the night before, but my shorts were still damp, and she couldn't get any good friction going.

She withdrew and reached for her beach bag. I wasn't sure what she was doing until I saw her pull out the suntan lotion. She squirted some into her palm and went back to work.

"Does that feel good?"

I grunted, the oily feel of her masturbation robbing me of any capacity for coherent thought. She stroked me rapidly for a minute or so before I neared orgasm. I stopped her again, not wanting to make a mess of the towel.

"Are you going to come?"

I nodded.

"Just come. I want to see it. We can clean up in the creek."

I took my hand from hers, and she resumed stroking me. A few seconds later, I squirted off onto her towel. I heard her gasp softly as it happened. When I was done, she wiped herself off on the towel.

"There's more than I would have thought. It smells funny. Almost like . . . bleach or something."

I grunted assent, still not quite able to speak. She sat up and waited for me to recover. When I had, we rinsed out the mess in the water and walked back down toward the pond.

When we got back to the campsite, I was convinced everyone would be able to tell what we had been doing. It took me a few minutes to realize they had no idea. Sarah and little Richard were still playing with the salamanders, building a little house for them out of the mud by the dam. My mother and aunt had gone up the hill to the campsite, but Richard and my father were still in their beach chairs drinking beer.

Melissa gave me a sly glance and waded out into the water. I followed her out, and we returned to the raft. There we remained for the rest of the afternoon, until my mother called us up the hill for dinner.

I had been concerned about little Richard and Sarah wanting to return to the "kids tent" that night, but after Uncle Richard told us a long ghost story around the fire after dinner, there seemed to be little chance of it. Once again, they left Melissa and me together, though we waited until the adults packed it in before going to bed ourselves.

Melissa went in the tent alone to change out of her clothes, and I sat by the fire poking a stick into the coals. A few minutes later, she peeked out of the slit.

"Okay."

I slipped into the tent and kicked off my shoes. Melissa was completely inside her sleeping bag with only her head and hands protruding. She watched me, a smile on her face, as I slipped into my bag to change into my pajamas. I wondered at this strange modesty given the things we had done, but the force of habit seemed enough of a reason.

I noticed that Melissa's sleeping bag was unzipped all the way down the side nearest me. Figuring that this wasn't an accident, I pushed down the zipper on mine with my toe.

"Do you want to go to sleep?" she asked.

I nodded, trying not to act too excited. She shut off her flashlight, and the tent was dark.

Afraid of being heard, I remained still for about ten minutes until I thought the adults would be asleep. Melissa did nothing either.

As I had the night before, I reached out first with my hand. It bumped into Melissa's almost immediately. I heard her giggle softly as she took my hand in hers and pulled it into her sleeping bag.

I rolled toward her, reaching for her, but immediately realized that something was different--she had no pajama top on. As I slid my hand down, I discovered--with an enormous thrill--that she was completely naked inside her sleeping bag.

She giggled again, pulling me closer to kiss her. I had on only a pair of thin boxer shorts, and the feel of her writhing next to me was about the nicest thing I had ever experienced. We kissed for a long time as she let me explore and play with her body.

"Will you suck my tits again?" she asked softly.

I kissed my way down, finding her breasts and commencing to work. Her hand took mine, squeezing it gently, then moved it down between her legs. I sucked on her left nipple as I began working on her. She spread her legs for me, and I tried to repeat what I had done the night before. She held me close, arms around my head and back, but remained still under me.

As it had the first time, her orgasm came as a surprise. I was still learning and had yet to recognize the signs of her arousal. All at once, she squeezed me tightly, letting out a tiny squeak through her nose. I stroked her rapidly, not stopping as she peaked. She relaxed slowly but still held me against her.

I moved to her other breast but continued masturbating her. She came again a few minutes later, after which she rolled over against me but kept my hand between her legs. This time she humped my fingers slowly as I played with her.

We rolled around like that for a while, and she must have come four or five times before we stopped. We lay together as she caught her breath. Then she dug another wad of Kleenex out of her bag.

She buried her face against my shoulder, pressing herself as tightly against me as she could, and began to stroke my penis. She apparently didn't like how it felt, and got something else from her bag, probably hand lotion or something like it to lubricate her hand.

The experience lasted a little longer, since she had gotten me off that afternoon. I tried to show her how I liked it, and I came into the wad of Kleenex after a few minutes.

We held each other for a long time, during which I wondered whether this was really wrong. I mean, it wasn't like she was my sister, right? It wasn't the same as that. And this had felt so good that the sensation of guilt was dulled significantly.

I feel asleep before reaching any conclusions.

VI.

When I awoke, we were both back in our own sleeping bags. Melissa was awake, her face no more than a foot or two away from mine, and she was staring into my eyes. I slid my hand toward her, and she took it, squeezing it tightly. We both knew there were some things that needed to be said, but neither of us was quite ready to say them.

That day was Saturday, our last full day there. We went on another hike, and spent several hours swimming, but I was getting increasingly worried about our parents figuring out what was going on. They hadn't indicated having the slightest clue, but I didn't want to take any more chances. So though I wanted to, Melissa and I didn't sneak off together as we had the day before.

Toward the end of the afternoon, we were lying on the raft again.

"You have to go home tomorrow," she said.

"Yeah."

"That sucks."

"I'd like to stay."

"Me too."

She sighed.

"I wish you lived up here."

"So do I."

"We could write each other. If you wanted to."

"Yeah. We could do that."

"Do you promise you'll write me?"

"I will."

"Okay."

She turned her head and looked across the pond to where our parents were. My mother was floating in the shallows talking to my father and Richard. Aunt Liz was sitting by herself further up the hill, having refused from the beginning to get near what she referred to as "the cesspool."

"I bet our folks would freak."

"Yeah."

That about summed it up, huh?

The rest of the day was uneventful, and as the sun set and the woods got dark, I kept thinking about what was likely to happen that night with Melissa. Of course the possibility of sleeping with her had occurred to me; I was sixteen, for God's sake. But that seemed like the last taboo, one we were better off not breaking. Suppose she got pregnant? Where would that leave us?

Part of me hoped that my sister and Richard would return to our tent so I wouldn't be faced with that decision, but having set the precedent over the first two nights, they showed no inclination to do it. They went to bed soon after dinner, followed by my mother and Aunt Liz, leaving the two of us with Richard and my father.

"You guys have fun this weekend?" Richard asked me.

I shot an involuntary glance at his daughter, unable to stop myself.

"Yeah. This place is nice."

"It's going to be a lot better once we get the cabin built and the pond has had a few years to settle in. It's going to be muddy like that until the stream has had a chance to wash some of the clay out of the soil."

I nodded, and he and my father began discussing the cabin again. I glanced at Melissa, who gave me a nervous smile. I poked at the fire and tried not to think too much.

When we finally went to bed, Melissa went into the tent first as she had been doing. After a few minutes, she let me in.

The first thing I noticed was that she had opened our two sleeping bags up to make one continuous "bed," with mine on the bottom and hers on the top. The other thing I noticed was that she appeared to be naked again, though I couldn't quite tell. Battling my nervousness, I slipped under covers with her.

She turned off the flashlight, and we were once again bathed in darkness. Giggling softly, she reached for me. She was indeed naked. I slipped out of my clothes and began kissing her.

It went much like it had the previous night, with a long bout of kissing and writhing slowly together before she pushed my head down to her breasts. I suckled her nipples for a minute before starting to masturbate her. She rolled around with me, my hand between her legs no matter the position, coming every few minutes, until she seemed sated.

We rested for a minute or so before I felt her hand on my erection. As she began to stroke it, I tried to roll on my back.

But she stopped me. Instead, she pulled on my arm. I rolled closer to her, but she kept pulling. That was when I realized she was trying to pull me on top of her.

"Wait."

She relaxed, not answering me immediately.

"Don't you want to?"

What was I supposed to say to that? Of course I wanted to; that wasn't the point. But the last lonely shred of conscience I had left, howling in vain that this was wrong, drowned under a flood of hormones. I ask you, Ladies and Gentlemen of the jury, what normal, healthy, sixteen-year-old boy could have turned down an offer like that, even if it was coming from his own cousin?

So of course I gave in. What did you expect me to do?

I crawled above her, settling between her thighs. Her hand took my erection and guided me forward, which was fortunate since I had little idea what to do. I felt myself pressing against her wetness and paused, praying for enough self-control to avoid simply coming all over her. She pulled me forward; I slipped into her. The head passed inside, and I found myself against her virginity. Not wanting to hurt her, I pressed against it gently. With only the slightest resistance, it parted. Melissa let out a quiet grunt, but by then I was sliding forward, up to the root.

Two thoughts exploded through my head at that moment: "Oh God, this feels incredible," and "Oh, shit, I'm fucking my cousin." Any guesses about which thought won? (I won't try your patience by pretending there's any suspense here.)

I paused when I was completely inside her, feeling myself on the brink of climaxing already. All I could think about was this incredible sensation of having her wrapped tightly around me. Melissa pulled me down, trying to kiss me. I did, hoping it would calm me down a little. She wrapped her arms around me, sighing through her nose. I kept myself so still above her that she started to move herself. Realizing that it was going to happen no matter what I did, I withdrew and slid back into her. It took no more than three or four thrusts before I came.

As soon as I was able, I lifted myself up from her.

"I'm sorry."

"Why?" she asked softly.

"That it was so fast."

"It's okay."

She kissed me again. That was when a concern that should have occurred to me long before erupted in my brain: we hadn't been using any protection at all.

"Could you get pregnant?"

"No. I don't think so."

"Are you sure? Why not?"

"My period is due in a few days. It's too late. Don't worry."

I tried to relax, telling myself that she had to know how her own body worked. I stayed within her, moving slowly. My erection subsided but did not fade entirely. We continued kissing and caressing each other for a while before I realized my arousal was reawakening. I started to move more deliberately, and I was soon completely erect again, though nowhere near orgasm.

As Melissa realized what was happening, she started moving against me, moving with my thrusts. Thinking, after having masturbated her so much, that I had an idea about what got her off, I tried to do the same thing with my penis, as much as I could manage without withdrawing. Melissa seemed to like it, and rubbed herself against me as I did.

I don't know how long that second time lasted, because my perception was so dilated by the newness of the experience. Melissa did come eventually, squeaking and shuddering under me. By then, I was closing in on my own orgasm, and I reached it soon after she did, the ache of a second climax burning through my erection.

Melissa tried to clean herself up after I finally withdrew, then lay in my arms for a long time. I held her, smelling her scent all around me, wondering what was going to happen now.

I realized a few minutes later that she was crying.

"What's wrong?"

"I think I love you, and you're going to leave."

I hugged her, not sure what to say to that.

"We can write each other."

"Do you promise? You'll write me every day?"

"Yes."

She sobbed quietly in my arms.

"Do you love me?" she asked a minute later.

"Yes."

I wasn't lying to her then, but I know now it was just a rationalization to excuse what we had done. What else could you expect from two teenagers who had just given each other their virginity?

We fell asleep like that a while later.

VII.

What happened after that? Not much. We drove back to Boston early the next morning. Melissa and I rode with Richard and Aunt Liz (who spent the entire trip arguing about the cabin, never noticing that Melissa and I were holding hands discreetly in the back seat), while little Richard and Sarah rode with my parents. We had paired off so consistently like that through the weekend that no one seemed to care.

We went to their house, where we showered and finished packing for the trip home. I wanted to kiss Melissa goodbye, but we never had the opportunity. We said goodbye on the street out front. I shook Uncle Richard's hand, gave Aunt Liz a dutiful peck on the cheek, and then gave Melissa as big a hug as I dared.

"Goodbye," she whispered. "I'll miss you."

"You too."

When we released each other, I saw my mother watching us strangely, though no one else seemed to notice. Was that a glint of suspicion I saw in her eye? Did she suspect that something untoward might have happened that weekend? Maybe. But if she did, she's never said a word about it.

I watched out the back of the car as we drove away. Melissa waved to me, then wiped her eyes quickly. I watched her until we turned the corner, and then she was gone.

"You got two got along so well with Richard and Melissa," my mother said. "It's a shame we don't see them more often."

"Yeah," I said, though I doubt she heard me.

Melissa and I did write each other for about a year, but after that, the glow seemed to have worn off. I met another girl at school whom I eventually slept with our senior year. She was a virgin; I told her I was too. How was she going to know? I was more in love with her than I ever really was with Melissa, so it almost felt like the truth.

I wouldn't see Melissa again for another three years, shortly after I joined the Navy. Things were initially awkward, but once we got over it, we were good friends again. We've remained close, but it's never gone beyond that. I've never told anyone about that summer, not even my wife. If Melissa has told her husband, I can't tell. It would be enough of a family scandal, even fifteen years later, that nothing would be gained by it.

Was it wrong? Perhaps. But were I to say I wished it had never happened, I'd be lying.

THE END