Imogene's 20th birthday party is a hot affair. Across a sea of gyrating fans adoring the sound from her cousin Ida's band, Imogene watches with smoldering intensity. She's never felt this way before. She can't take her eyes off her cousin's sensual body. She is drawn like a moth to a flame, unable to quench the desire she feels to reach out and touch what surely must remain a fantasy. But must it? More
Imogene and Ida are cousins who sometimes share shifts at Blue's Takeaway but otherwise aren't close. One day, Ida and her band perform at Imogene's 20th birthday, sparking a desire in Imogene she has never felt before, a desire for her cousin, Ida. At first, Imogene doesn't know how to process what she's feeling, then she talks to her best friend, Linnea about it who tells her that no matter what she decides to do, she must always still respect the person she is with as a person and not merely an object or tool for her own pleasure. Linnea says she can talk to Ida for her, albeit covertly. When Linnea and Ida talk, Ida clues onto Linnea's true reason for seeing her.
Meeting up with friends at a takeaway place, Imogene and Ida chat. Ida suggests they leave, which they do. They drive off in Ida's car and Ida initiates sex. Afterward, they remain friendly until Imogene stumbles upon a post on Ida's Facebook page hinting that she was merely using her as an "experiment". Imogene is deeply hurt and refuses to speak with Ida or even meet her.
Then, Ida arrives to apologize one day when Imogene is running in the park and Imogene accepts her apology. They make up and kiss, eventually confessing that what they feel for each other is more than lust, that they actually love each other.
"Ida," I want to say, "you're a good singer. A good cousin, a good person. I wish you were a good lay, too, 'cause I really feel like that'd just be the best birthday present ever. Ya know, man? Ya know?"
I don't say that, though. It'd be a real dork move and she's helping me clean the place up and I don't think I could do it anymore if she left. I think I'd just retire to my bed, flop down on my bed, and sleep until next century.
Another good thing about her staying is her slim, barely-there rear-end. As we're cleaning and we're both super busy, I get to stare at it and imagine myself touching it, taking it into my hands and squeezing i....
It must be the booze or something. I'm not usually this rabid, and certainly not towards my own cousin. I have never thought of Ida in a sexual manner before, or as that kind of object.
When she leaves, I know I'll be lying alone in my own bed, struggling to get off to sleep. I'll imagine her rear-end again, and my hands on her butt. I'll imagine my tongue poking into her and I'll bite into her soft, warm cheeks, each one like a perfect ripe peach. Then I'll slide my hands into my panties and get myself off. I'll scream her name and she won't hear me. I'll scream her name and I won't feel bad because it's just a fantasy and not at all real.
And then I'll feel a little bad too. I'll wish it were just a bit real. I'll wish she'd really sung a song just for me and she'd really smiled at me like she did in my dream.
It would have been really great, I think.
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