When three of my maternal cousins Sharon, Sonia, and Sarah came to spend the Christmas holidays with my family in Abuja for the first time, it didn’t take more than a moment for me to decide that Sarah was my favourite cousin of all. The three sisters lived in Lagos with their parents and the holidays were the first time I had ever seen them in the flesh. My siblings always spent time with them on their occasional visits to Lagos, and regaled me with stories of how fun they were. I had also seen enough pictures to know they were all pretty, but nothing prepared me for the thrill of seeing Sarah up close. At 23, she was the youngest of them and also younger than me by a year but she was by far the most beautiful of the trio, which was even more astonishing considering how beautiful her sisters were. Pictures did her no justice.
Her soft shoulder-length hair framed her face and her brown shimmering eyes and small nose gave her a distinct asian semblance even though she wasn’t of mixed race. Her lovely dentition bolstered her smile multiple folds. She had a big apple butt and even bigger breasts that sat on her 5’7 frame, curvy hips, and thick thighs that dove into sexy well-toned legs. Her fair skin radiated with a glow that made it impossible for her to go unnoticed. She was conscious of the attention she commanded and she revelled in it. Her poise and carriage portrayed her as proud and standoffish and to a degree it was true. But she was also warm to those she loved, and a generally caring person. To top it off, she had a vibrant personality. She was naturally the funniest person in every room. We had a prolific partnership at card games.
We ate together. She was my natural choice whenever I needed someone to accompany me to the mall on errands, and we would stroll the aisles hand in hand while I basked in the glorious attention that inevitably came with having the prettiest girl on my arm. I would intentionally invade her space in a romantic manner more usual for couples than relatives, and whisper something funny to her so we would laugh and jostle each other to seem more like lovers to the jealous onlookers. She always got right into it, her touches, looks, and gestures blending perfectly into character, almost as though she knew what I was up to and decided to play along. If she knew, she never showed it. If anything, it was the ease and natural flow of our connection that forced my first reflections on the possibility of us being something more. I wondered if I could have stood a chance with her if we didn’t share blood ties, or if she had warmed up to me so much only because we were family.
Many girls considered me handsome and funny, but she had the kind of looks that chipped away one’s self-confidence. I had no idea whether to be thankful she was my cousin or feel cheated because of the boundaries it represented. Whatever my thoughts or hers were, they never progressed beyond spoon-feeding each other, cuddling close together for movies, and holding hands at the mall.
Albeit, our time together created some of my fondest holiday memories and I was sad to see her go.
Having established a rapport, we began to call each other and text regularly. As our conversations drifted towards dirtier subjects, I summoned the courage to send her a risky text. She had sent me a sexual meme and my response personalised it, placing us both in the context. I sat in a tense wait, my perfect cover story already in hand in case she flipped out, but hoping desperately for any response that could be interpreted as a nod of approval. The triumph of my hopes materialised in the form of laughing emojis and a riskier text from her, which snowballed into a conversation about our sexual preferences and prowess.
Every picture or video she posted of herself turned me on fiercely and fueled my imagination of what it would feel like to sleep with her. Not once did I feel as though I was crossing a line because she was family. My mind was made up and if she would have me, I would give her all that I had.
Our conversations about sex with each other had gotten bolder but so far they were still only hints covered up in the delicious wrappings of jokes, with neither of us giving up much ground or willing to take the risky plunge until the intentions of the other could be ascertained with undeniable clarity. And so we skirted flirtatiously around the taboo of incest, studiously scouring the internet for succour in the stories of people with similar experiences, cultures in which it was an acceptable practice, and philosophies that rationalised our desire. I sent more romantic good morning texts, money on numerous occasions to pleasantly surprise her, chocolates, food packages, and sometimes daring gifts like sexy lingerie sets with notes addressing her as ‘wifey’.
Shortly after came a major financial windfall for me in the form of a Lagos State government Media/PR contract for the Eko Festival. When I confirmed that I would be going to Lagos for a brief while, thoughts of Sarah immediately flooded my mind and I felt the mild kick of an arousal.
I wasted no time communicating my schedule to her and making plans that would see me show her the best time even though I was the visitor in her city.
When I landed in Lagos the following week, I checked into the Eko Hotel executive suite where I would be staying over the next couple of days, and two hours later when I answered the doorbell she was standing there in a long brown weave and a mini blue jean skirt with a threaded hem, a carton-colour linen blouse with long sleeves that extended to her fingertips, and matching fur slides. She was the sexiest thing I had ever seen, the face of my temptation and guilty pleasure. With an excited whoop, she sprung past the doorway and into my waiting embrace, her arms circling my neck and her legs wrapped around my waist and locked behind me.
With one hand on the small of her back to support her weight, I reached out with the other to push the door close, my brisk movement forward bridging the little gap between us and the doorway till her back was firmly pinned against the woodwork. Her large breasts pushed into me through the carton-colour bra that struggled to cage them, and the flimsy material of her blouse. The gentle swell of her pubic mound against her matching lace panties was exposed as the mini skirt rode even further up her thick thighs which I now cradled and spread further apart as I leaned into her. With a naughty giggle, she rolled her hips gently, grinding her crotch further into me. Lust had very quickly dismantled the innocence of the embrace and it had crescendoed into the tensions of hot sexual desire. I kissed her hungrily and she reciprocated.
Half a minute later I let her back on her feet, still kissing her against the wall. I slipped a hand into her panties and fingered her now dripping pussy, my mouth finding its way to her neck. Impatience tore through us like a hot knife through butter and in the following few moments she lay on the bed, still clothed. I unbuckled my pants and slid her panties to the side, scarcely believing my luck as I stared at her beautiful pink pussy. The sight of her overloaded my senses. I didn’t have it in me to wait a moment longer.
I pushed my swollen cap gently into her, easing in the length of my shaft until my large cock disappeared into the neatly trimmed pubic hair that adorned her cunt. I couldn’t tell which was hotter, her sexy moans or the way she looked directly into my eyes as she called me the sweetest names, telling me how big my dick was. I alternated my strokes as I thrust into her, eager to give her as much pleasure as she gave me. Her pussy enveloped me in a warm tight grip. Between her sensual gyrations and her erotic whispers of “fuck me sweetie”, there was nowhere to hide from the magnitude of the orgasm that followed as I poured stream after stream of hot sperm into her, bucking between her laps. She shrieked and shuddered as her body threw her over the edge and into the depths of another climax.
I had been convinced that I was merely impassioned with a lust that would mellow out when we finally had sex, resigning myself to a reality already cast in stone, that we could never be together. But as she smiled up at me with a “welcome baby”, I knew I was deeply in love with her. We spent the next few days together having an amazing time, and amazing sex. I don’t regret it, and we’ve only gotten closer. But now, she’s all I can think about. I get jealous when I see her with someone else, or when she talks about another guy. We confess our love for each other, even though we’re forced to accept our reality. Sometimes I think about eloping and getting married to my cousin like some people do here and in other parts of the world. But I know we both deserve more than a life of being estranged from our families, and a happiness we can share with them.
I finally had sex with my cousin after fantasising about her for so long, and it was amazing. But with it has come the grim discovery that sex with my beautiful Sarah is not enough. And that’s what keeps me up at night!
