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[Note to readers: This story features a narrator attracted to his cousin, but there is no sex with the cousin. If that is not your cup of tea, there are plenty of other stories around. It is also a fairly long story, with a backstory that leads to one very detailed sex scene. Again, might not be for you if you want a short stroker. Thanks to Carnevil9 for proofreading. Any faults belong to me.]
“It’s a variation of speed dating,” my cousin explained. “Except at this event, everyone wears blindfolds, so you have to indicate a preferred match based just on the conversation, eliminating the visual bias. Like an old-fashioned blind dates before phone cameras made pics so easy to share.”
“And you want me to attend because you think I’m so ugly I wouldn’t get a date the regular way?”
“No silly,” she laughed. “I always have more women than men that want to attend these events I organize, and the blindfold aspect seems to have discouraged even more guys- I guess men really are superficial about who they date. Then I thought of you- divorced a year, and not once have you dated. I’m getting tired of being your safety date for functions. People must be starting to think we are kissing cousins.”
Turnabout is fair play. If I didn’t do her a favour and attend one of her events soon, she might stop attending things with me.
My cousin Melissa (“call me Mel”) was a real hottie and I did have deep seated fantasies about her. Vain hopes they might become true was part of the reason I kept asking her to accompany me to events. My interest in her speed dating business was just a ruse to talk to her. Every time I heard her honey toned voice my cock got stiff.
I was glad the conversation was over the phone, because I felt my blush warm my cheeks. Talking on the phone allowed me to unleash the monster and give it a rub. But I had to keep the conversation going if I hoped to get off. Not having had sex since my wife left me in the middle of our twenty-fifth anniversary vacation cruise for a scuba instructor in the islands made me extra horny. Porn had its limits and I was starting to feel pathetic. The incestuous urges flooded me with shame. Combined with the circumstances of losing my wife, I felt like a total loser. Asking women out was just impossible in that state of mind.
“I do owe you one- more than one,” I admitted. “But if I don’t end up with at least one match, you need to set me up with your easiest sleaziest girlfriend so I break my dry spell.”
That would never work. I’d be thinking of Mel the whole time. Then I smiled, because thinking of Mel might give me the stiffness to properly fuck any of her pals- from blonde bombshell Patty to sporty ginger Amber. Gawd, I was so ashamed of those thoughts, I barely heard Mel’s chuckle, or what she said next.
“My best friends help at the events, they don’t participate. Harriet is the only one single right now. If you agree she can be the safety date, we have a deal.”
Harriet was in her thirties, never married. Never even in a serious relationship in the time I had known her through Mel. Plain as a paper bag, which might be what I would need to fuck her while I closed my eyes and thought of Mel.
“Deal- if you guarantee she’s a sure thing.”
If I was going to be a jerk, might as well be all-in.
“She’s desperate for guys to notice her, that much I know. I’m sure she won’t even mind if you close your eyes and imagine you are fucking Amber, or Patty.”
Mel seemed clueless about being my actual lust object. That was good. I hoped to keep it that way. Accepting her offer would help that situation.
“Plus she always brags that in college she got a reputation for giving the best head.” Mel tried to close the deal.
“How do I know she didn’t start the rumour herself?”
“She had to learn how to get dates.”
“So maybe you started the rumour to help her- without the gossip, the talented tongue would only ensure second dates.”
“No- I taught her all my tricks, that’s how I helped her. Harriet only gave the second best blow jobs on campus,” Mel giggled.
My cock told my brain it was beat and I agreed to attend the event the following Wednesday. Mel had booked the private dining room at the nicest restaurant in town. Even though their were no meals involved, it would be a great atmosphere- although with everybody blindfolded, decor didn’t matter.
“The guys assemble in the lobby at 7:45,” Mel explained. “Amber will hand out the blindfolds. The women will already be seated and blindfolded by Patty and me. We will guide you guys in to your first tables around 8:00.”
“See you then. Or maybe I’ll not you see,” I said. Mel hung up just as I caught my great gobs of goo in my free hand.
Wednesday after work I showered, using up all the hot water, because the only way to calm my nerves was to jerk off thinking about how Mel might look on her knees giving Harriet blow job lessons. Except images of Amber and Patty kept squeezing poor Harriet out of the picture. I dressed in my best suit, even though female participants internet casino wouldn’t see it. Maybe I would impress Amber or Patty.
There were fifteen or twenty guys nervously sizing each other up in the lobby when I arrived. I wasn’t worried about the muscular jock types. The strange nature of this event meant my real competition was the nerdy professor sort in the tweed jacket, or maybe the accountant I recognized- but though he was bright, I knew from a few work socials that he could not carry a conversation. Numbers and the tax code were his favourite topics. Admittedly, I had similar worries about myself- I sure did not want to talk about cruises, scuba diving, or vacations in general. My prepared fall back topics were classic movies, hiking spots, and favourite novels. One Hitchcock or John Irving fan among the women and I was all set.
But to my surprise after Amber blindfolded me, and someone led me to a table, Melissa announced. “Guys and gals, your first opening topic of conversation will be to start with the guys saying, ‘my favourite soup is..’. you then have three minutes from there to take the discussion where it goes. At the end, put the square card at your right side if you are interested in a match with that person. The round card means ‘no thanks’. You will have a different starter line at each table. We will collect everybody’s cards as you move, and email anybody who has a match with the details.”
I was exasperated by the soup line, fumbled badly, and the first table went so poorly that we were silent well before Mel announced time to place a card and for the men move over one table- with her assistants guiding us. I had no doubt that my opposite number also picked the round card, but enjoyed the feel of my guide’s breast pressed against my arm. My cock swelled.
The second table required the women to start with ‘I have always wanted to visit…’ which I thought was a better opener, except for my phobia about how travel had cost me my marriage, which at least reduced the swelling of my cock. I spent the three minutes pondering whether my wife was already bored of me before that trip, and barely managed to keep up the chat until time was called. My next move was guided by someone with barely any boob at all, but I got a cheap thrill as her hip bumped mine.
About an hour later, we were instructed to remove the blindfolds, and join the hostesses for drinks. I knew that I had only placed three square cards to request a match- one with a gal who took a starter line about ‘my favourite animal’ to confess her love of horses in a very sensually loaded way; another of the woman that responded to my saying ‘in my next life I want to come back as a duck’ by replying ‘because it rhymes with fuck’; and the third and final one, my last table-mate, with whom I had a great conversation in spite of the opener being me having to describe my favourite shoes. It seemed that we both had fetishes for footwear. I hoped she also square carded me the most, although the second one seemed like a sure thing to break my celibacy streak- just a bit too anxious.
Masks removed, I’m sure we all wondered who each person of the opposite gender had been, but we were forbidden from asking. I got no sparks during that mingling, which was so dull that I got trapped in a conversation with the accountant, who had done the math and determined that oddly, excluding the organizers, there was one fewer woman than man, yet we all had the same number of ‘blindfolded dates’.
Mel sent us out into the night after an announcement that she had purchased a dozen tickets to the hot ticket jazz concert the following Saturday, available to anybody who matched and needed a safe first date.
I was home alone by 10:00, stressed by the prospect of having no matches, and ending up dating Harriet. Even the promise of the second best blow job made me just wish I was able to receive Mel’s allegedly better attention.
Those thoughts revived my fantasy of a four gal blow job contest. I exploded a fistful of seed before the winner was determined. At the climactic moment, Mel, who to my added frustration even in my dream only instructed not participated, was encouraging Amber to run her tongue inside my slit while Harriet and Patty played with my balls. I was unsure which I woman dreamed was shoving the finger up my ass to trigger the orgasm. I finally drifted off to sleep, awakening to a crusty mess in my palm.
I realized that it was a ringing phone that had awoken me. The call display read ‘Mel’. I used my clean hand to answer it.
“Lucky you, I have a concert ticket with your name on it.”
“Who…what?”
“It’s Mel calling, dummy, but I’m not telling who your date is. You’ll have to show up and see who is in the next seat.”
Mel knew just how to pique my curiosity. Of course, I hoped it might be Mel herself, but more realistically, Amber or Patty would do just fine. Even several of the ‘blind date’ gals could be worth spending time with. At least Mel was not cashing in her ‘you have to date Harriet’ canlı poker oyna card. After reflecting upon that prospect, I regretted my agreement. The ‘safety date’ was really more for Harriet’s benefit than mine.
I had forgotten about Patty and Amber not being single. Once I recalled that, I was tempted to call Mel back, to clarify that I had received a match, and that for her to call in the ‘safety date’ required warning. Maybe I could even demand to know at least the first name of my companion to be, to avoid that awkwardness. Except I could not think of what I would say if Mel told me it was Harriet who had the other ticket. If I let Harriet down, I would let Mel down, which I still did not want to do.
Saturday arrived. I went for a hair and beard trim, wanting to look my best. That also meant a second shower, my best sport coat over a pale blue open collared shirt- jazzy without being too informal for the concert venue, I hoped. I Ubered to the event, not knowing what the night might hold, timing my arrival so that I was neither early nor last minute. The lobby was about half full when I entered. No sign of Mel, Patty or Amber. I did not recognize any of the women I recalled from the speed dating evening, and even if I did, there were likely four other couples matched up who had received tickets from Mel.
One quick drink and the bell went off announcing that it was time to get our seats. Mine turned out to be one in from an aisle. The seat inside of me was occupied by a portly gent with a fine walrus moustache. I guessed that he was not my date, so kept my eyes trained right toward the empty seat. At least I played it cool and did not crane my neck to watch for stragglers who might claim the seat.
The lights were going down when she slid into the seat, hip bouncing against my shoulder and then my knee.
“Sorry I’m late,” Harriet whispered as the house announcer introduced the opening act.
“You’re not late. Made it in the nick of time,” I quietly replied as the first notes of Dave Brubeck’s standard Take Five filled the room.
“From your smile, I guess that you’re glad to see me.”
I almost shushed her, or told her it was rude to talk during the music, but mostly was just glad that the late arrival meant that I did not have to make conversation. Now, if I could resist raising my right arm to the arm rest, we would not touch further. Unfortunately, it would be rude to leave at intermission, so I would have to endure that. I consoled myself by reflecting on the fact that this discharged any obligation to Mel to have a date with Harriet.
World’s second best blowjob brags or not, I was superficial enough to want to be seen with a better looking woman. Plus, knowing that Mel claimed to give the world’s best blowjobs would leave me closing my eyes and picturing my blonde cousin bobbing up and down on my erect cock, instead of Harriet’s mousy brown mane and thin lips. As the band segued into a Benny Goodman medley, it occurred to me that a blowjob from Harriet filling in for fantasy Mel might not be the worst reward for my discomfort, as long as I kept my eyes closed.
“Nice smile,” Harriet breathed into my ear. Her hand moved to my knee. Her shoulder pressed against mine. Her tongue darted in and out of my ear so quickly that I spent the rest of the set wondering whether I had imagined it. All of this sent shock waves to my groin, and my cock grew stiff, with no thoughts of Mel necessary.
The house lights came up for intermission. Harriet moved her hand off my knee, but took my hand in hers. Her teeth grazed my ear lobe.
“I hope that I’m not too ‘little squab boned’ for you,” she whispered, a John Irving reference that shocked me more than her behaviour. “I assure you that I’m no Norman Bates.”
I found the giggle that followed endearing.
The moment was interrupted by the walrus in the next seat huffing past us to get to the aisle.
“Should we go get a drink?” I asked.
“Is the tent still pitched in your pants?”
“Maybe you should check.”
The house lights did not deter Harriet from shifting her arm, brushing the back of her hand against my semi-turgid manhood.
“Oops, I think I just made it grow again.”
“Maybe you should stop rubbing it.”
“Now, what kind of fun would that be?”
This time her teeth closed around my ear lobe, biting just to the point of not quite drawing blood.
“That’s not helping.”
“Depends what you think the point of the game is.”
My cock was fuller and throbbing more than before. I could hardly deny that, to my surprise, I was enjoying this.
Harriet’s lips and teeth were working down the side of my neck. Her hand was squeezing my inner thigh, the back still rubbing my manhood through my pants.
“Let’s get that drink,” I croaked, my voice caught in my throat.
“I didn’t think you were that brave.”
I was not brave, I just couldn’t sit here and run the risk of staining my lap from inside my pants. Old walrus moustache would never approve. If we went poker oyna to the lobby, maybe I could walk behind Harriet to hide my erection until it went away. But I also could not let Harriet make fun of me.
“Just try me.”
“Oh, I intend to.”
Her girlish laugh surprised me.
By now, her free hand had slid inside the open neck of my shirt and massaged my chest. Without warning, she tweaked my nipple.
“Aren’t I supposed to do that to you?” I asked.
“No one is stopping you.”
The way that she was leaning across to stroke me had made the top of her dress gape open. From my vantage point, I could see down to her braless breast. It had not magically grown, in fact, it was quite small, but it looked like a perfect handful, topped by a diamond hard cherry red nipple that just cried out to be touched, mouthed, nibbled. Even without that, if she led me to the lobby, her excitement would be on display. Somehow this seemed not to bother her. This was a side of Harriet I had never dreamt of.
My hand moved as if it had a mind of its own, dipping into that space. Two fingers quickly grasped that rosy point and gave it a sharp squeeze. Harriet yelped, so I released it and withdrew my hand. She caught my wrist and guided me back to her tit.
“Sorry, I was just shocked that you went for the gusto right away. I didn’t mean for you to stop.”
I palmed the slight weight and cupped my fingers around the curvature, closing gently. This evoked a deep sigh. She released my thigh, sticking her hand down my pants, her palm warm against my throbbing erection. A bit more movement and she would have a sticky mess on her hand.
“We better get that drink.”
Harriet pouted dramatically as she drew her hands free. She sat up, straightened her dress and stood, drawing me up by my hand. She led me up the aisle toward the back of the house, seemingly unconcerned about whether anybody noticed that her headlights remained on. It was also impossible for me to fully duck behind her, which meant that onlookers would get a good view of my excitement, if they were inclined to look at my crotch. Harriet’s pride rubbed off on me and I walked with my head held high. When we got through the doors to the lobby, I caught up to her, and saw that her smile was beaming.
Once we reached the lobby, I was surprised that Harriet did not lead me into the lineup for drinks, or release her grip to head to the ladies room while I headed to the bar. Instead, she steered me to the corner, by the ladies room entrance. People were pouring out the door, already headed back to their seats.
“Aren’t we headed the wrong way to get a drink?”
“I think you misunderstand what I want to drink. Wait here.”
She released my hand and ducked into the door to the ladies room, without going into the room. I stood there, unsure about her intent, listening to my throbbing cock demand that I relax, go along for the ride, and see where it was taking us.
“Okay, the coast is clear.”
Harriet grabbed my hand again and tugged me along behind her into the ladies room, which fortunately was empty. She pulled me into a stall and latched the door just as the bell rang to warn of the next act starting, drawing people back to their seats.
“Hadn’t we…” I started, but Harriet cut me off with a laugh.
“I think you’ll enjoy this more than the concert, and they pipe the music in here anyway.”
The stall was not large or fancy, this being a public facility, but it was immaculately clean, and the wall, rather than industrial metal, was some sort of faux wood panelling. It was somewhat larger than you might expect to find in a bar, but still smaller than a private washroom. Recognizing that brought my brain back to the realization that I was in a forbidden space. I might even be breaking some sort of law. If Harriet wanted to make out that badly, maybe I could cool her down enough to suggest that we take it elsewhere. One of our cars would even be better than the ladies room if she didn’t want to go to one of our homes. For that matter, there was a dandy boutique hotel right across the street geared to travellers attending concerts.
Before I could suggest that, Harriet shoved my back up against it hard enough to make it shake. She placed the palm of her hand over the throbbing mass in my pants and grinned.
“Oh, that feels just right. Mel wasn’t sure how big a boy you are. She promised me a full refund if I wasn’t satisfied, but I think you’ll make a perfect mouthful.”
She kissed me then, preventing me from replying. Her lips pressed urgently against mine, confirming the ferocity that lay beneath the pussycat exterior. Harriet was definitely a lioness. Her tongue clicked against my teeth, cuing me to open my mouth a bit more so she could slide right inside. As she probed my cheeks, her hands ran up my body, one exploring my chest inside my shirt, the other gripping my shoulder.
We kissed for several seconds, or an hour, I had lost all sense of time. My hands slid down her toned torso, tracing the slight bulge of her hips. If you had asked me prior to that moment, I would have described her ass as ‘flat’, but like the rest of her, what she lacked in curves was compensated for by well developed muscle. As I kneaded that flesh, she shifted closer.
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