Black Out

Kissing Cousins

Peter stopped fucking her after that. At least, Gwen thought he did. She passed out sometime between orgasms, when they were coming so quickly and so furiously that she could barely tell where one began and one ended, when Peter was thrusting into her and when he was pulling out, when she was full of his cock and cum and when she was about to be.

When Gwen woke up, she was back in her apartment. From where she’d been discarded on the couch, she could see into the kitchen. The refrigerator was gaping open. Peter had picked it clean, then literally raided the pantry, ripping open cans and jars to devour the foodstuff inside. A stack of empty pizza boxes told her that he’d even ordered in, the cardboard stacked seven high. 

Then Peter came back to her. Leaving the facility, she could only assume, had more to do with sating his hunger than having his literal fill of her cunt. And now that he’d appeased it, and she was once more able to make the orgasmic moans he enjoyed hearing from her so much, it was time for her to resume her duties as the world’s most willing sex slave.

He fucked her in every room of the apartment. He bent her over the oven range in the kitchen, turning on the burners just inches from her chest as he took her from behind. She thought he was some kind of sadist, but he knew exactly how to turn her on. The longer she spent in that position, the more aroused she became. The prospect of pain, so near it was almost hurting her already, made her clench and throb even harder for him. She came as good as she ever had, the climax rattling her teeth. She was left begging for more and Peter gave it to her.

It soon became apparent that if Gwen didn’t want Peter to break her hip, she would need to find another receptacle—quite literally—for his lusts.

***

Jill was Gwen’s cousin, but she could’ve practically been her twin aside from an English accent and brunette hair. Privately she’d confided to Gwen that she was hoping to meet a guy while visiting New York, finding Americans’ brashness and confidence at least sexy enough for a one-night stand, but so far, she’d had no luck. Even American guys were intimidated by her good looks and arousing accent, which Gwen envied. The woman sounded like Kate Beckinsale at her most seductive, and the black hair suited her sweet, friendly face. 

She was overjoyed to hear that Gwen had a friend, recently on the market, who was interested in meeting her.

Peter needed to eat again, so Gwen gave him her credit card and pointed him at the bodega down the street. She straightened up the place, lighting several scented candles to diffuse the smell of sex in the air. She wondered what Jill would say if she knew that Gwen was setting her up with a man she herself had already fucked numerous times. Maybe it would help if Gwen mentioned to her that before she called, Gwen had been seriously considering just letting Peter orgasm her to death. What a way to go that would be!

“I can’t believe I’m letting you set me up on a blind date!” Jill cried, so jubilantly that she just had to be overcompensating for her own trepidation. “Is this really how you ‘hook up’ in America?”

“Usually, we use an app,” Gwen said. “But I think it’s better to keep things in the family. Don’t be nervous, people do this all the time.”

“But not me,” Jill stressed, her voice filling with a taut excitement.

Gwen felt exasperated. “He’ll be here soon. He’ll really show you a good time. Just keep an open mind.”

Jill felt her knees shake like tinker toys. She’d been in Gwen’s apartment so many times, but for the first time she was going to use it as some prospective love nest, with a man she’d never even met before. Her courage suddenly vanished.

“I can’t!” she told Gwen, her heart pounding. “There’s no way!”

“No way what?” a coolly masculine voice asked.