COUSIN TOM'S REVENGE
written by:
Naughty Miranda

COUSIN TOM'S REVENGE

Dead Man's Drop didn't get its name by accident. Climb up here and drop, and you're a dead man. Or a dead lady. It's happened as well, at least three times that I remember, and the town has been talking about fencing the place off for years. They haven't, though, and they never will, because the kids will only climb over it anyway. What else is there to do around here?

They say you can see right into Kansas from the top, but all I can see now are the clouds, lying on my back with my legs spread so wide that one foot is actually hanging over the edge. And I'm terrified.

I turn my head slightly, first one way and then the other, and there's a sheer drop on either side of me. I don't like heights at the best of times, and that's when I'm standing on a footstool. This isn't simply high, it's dizzyingly high, and the only reason I came up here the first time was because Cousin Tom bet me I wouldn't. And the second, and the third and, guess what? Today is no exception.

Usually, however, we're climbing back down immediately, racing to see who can reach the ground first. But he barked his shin as he hauled himself up, begged for a moment to rest when we got to the top, and then he kissed me so hard that I was flat on my back before I knew what was happening.

So now I'm lying here, on a strip of grassy rock that's barely as wide as I am, with a sixty foot drop on either side, and my fingers digging into the topsoil like they're trying to burrow to China. My head is spinning, my heart is pounding, my entire body feels like it's turned to lead, my skirt is up above my waist, and Cousin Tim is crouching over me, staring between my legs while he fucks me hard with...

...what is he fucking me with? At first I thought it was a finger, and that was fine. (A childhood spent on horseback popped my cherry years ago.) But, as my body relaxed and my pussy got over the shock of first contact, I knew it wasn't flesh and bone. Too long, too firm, too... oh God, don't stop.

He'd found a rhythm and it was driving me wild, a jackhammer pounding that didn't waver, just drove in and out, full steam ahead, and my flesh was ablaze and my nerve ends were singing, and my breath was exploding out of me, half gasp, half cry. At first I thought it was a dog barking, and I imagined a hiker on the hillside behind us, with a grandstand view of my body going nova.

Then I realized it was me, and I looked to see if Cousin Tom was laughing, but he was as lost in the moment as me, his cock in his left hand, furiously jerking, while his right kept on plunging between my thighs, a blur of movement that was blurring my senses, and an onrush of sensation that collided with my vertigo, until I was soaring and falling and screaming and crying, and it doesn't matter how many times I've fingered myself to some sort of solitary climax, it has never, ever felt like this.

"What the fuck?" Cousin Tom's voice slashed through ecstasy, cut it dead as though it had never existed, and only my trembling limbs and pounding heart denied the silence that had suddenly fallen.

"What?" I forgot where I was, reached a hand out to raise myself, and panicked when it grasped at thin air. Somehow I blocked the instinctive scream, and decided to remain flat. I'd worry about how to get up in a while.

"You just peed on me."

"I did not."

"You fucking did. I saw it. And look!" Cousin Tom, his cock still bobbing, but receding fast, scrambled to his knees, one hand pulling at the sodden patch that spread across his trouser leg.

"I did not pee, I swear." I was indignant, but I was terrified, too. Had I just let go in the heat of the moment? NO! I told myself and, this time, I did force myself to sit upright, my hands gingerly seeking solid ground behind me as my mind bellowed at me to keep as flat and safe as possible.

Don't look up, don't look down, don't look around. I kept my eyes on the wet patch, Cousin Tom still holding it away from his skin, while the look of disgust on his face told its own tale. I reached out slowly, touched the cloth. It was wringing wet. Then I raised the finger to my nostrils. "It's not pee, Cousin Tom. I swear. Sniff."

He looked at me cautiously, let a fingertip graze the edge of the patch. "Well, what is it then?"

"I don't know. I was coming... you were making me come, and then it hit me and it was like every single atom in my body was crashing together at the same time, and then you shouted."

"You came on my leg?" There was a faint smile playing around his mouth now, and a look of growing pride. In the weeks since I had him in the library, more and more of our time together had been spent playing around like this. But, though he tried as hard as he could, not once had he made me come. Until today.

"Is that what you were using?" My eyes fell on a long, thick black tube on the grass beside him, still sparkling with moisture. "What is it?"

"It's that new screwdriver I bought." He picked it up. "Well, not the screwdriver, but the case. My finger was getting really tired, and I kept worrying that my fingernails might scratch you, so I used this."

For a moment I was outraged, then reconsidered. A budding mechanic, Cousin Tom treated his tools like other men treat their cars, or even their ladies. For him to use a screwdriver on me before he'd even used it on one of his projects, that would be like me letting him come inside a brand new pair of shoes. And it certainly brings a new meaning to its name.

"It was amazing," I smiled. "I never dreamed that I could come that hard." And that was true. I struggled for words. Yeah, I've leaked a bit, and spent the rest of the night trying to avoid the damp patch on the sheets. But this must have been like a flood, a fountain...

..."a geyser." Cousin Tom was smiling now, running five fingers at a time through the wet, and then raising them to his lips to lick. "That's what it was, it was like Old Faithful, and the way you were moving about, I was scared you were going to fly over the edge."

Shit, I wish he hadn't said that. I suddenly remembered where we were, suddenly reunited the pounding of my heart and the roaring of my blood with the fact that I was an inch or two on either side of falling to my death. "Let's go down," I said quietly, and he nodded, tucking his now shrunken dick back inside his pants, backing up a few paces to where generations of past climbers had worn away a safer descent, and slowly lowering himself into the abyss. I waited till he was out of sight, then inched painstakingly along the ridge on my belly.

He was waiting for me at the bottom, sitting on a rock, still sniffing at his fingers. "Do you think you could do it again?"

"I dunno. I expect so." I wanted to add "only let's do it at ground level next time," but I held my tongue. I'd never seen Cousin Tom behaving like this before, so tender, so gentle, so full of wonder. But I knew that one word out of place would snap him back to his laughing, taunting, challenging self, betting me that I wouldn't dare climb back up there... because right now, he was correct. Does vertigo grow worse, the older you get? I didn't know, but it certainly felt like that. Even looking up at the ridge we'd just climbed down from, I could feel my heart start to flutter anew, and my legs grow weak and shaky.

I leaned back against a rock, shielding my eyes from the sun that hung low over the prairie that stretched out before us. "What now?"

"Let's go back into town. I could do with something to eat." I nodded, thought about his words for a moment, and felt my usual equilibrium returning.

"Do we have to into town for that?" The vertigo was receding. The buzz that was building in my body now was coming straight up from my pussy. It had tasted paradise and it wanted more, and no abrupt interruptions this time. I took a step and kissed him, reached down and cupped his balls. His cock was still soft, but I knew how to bring it back to life, and my heart skipped at the thought of doing so.

"Already?" Cousin Tom's eyes widened in surprise. "If I'd come that hard, I'd be out for the count by now."

"I don't think boys work the same way as girls," I laughed. "I feel like I could come all night, and still want more in the morning. Besides, you haven't come once yet, and that's really not fair."

His pushed his crotch against my thigh, immobilizing my hand between our bodies. "Maybe I don't want to yet. Maybe I want to see you do it again. That is, if you want to?"

I looked at him cautiously. You want to know what I really want? It was always fingers with Cousin Tom, at least before today, and he was right, he had scratched me up a few times, and maybe that was why today was so different. No rough edges, no hangnails or dry skin, just a long (so long - my cervix must be wondering what hit it), smooth (so smooth), pounding ride towards an ecstasy I'd never imagined. And I wondered what his mouth would have felt like, licking and lapping around my clit, while his hands drove me home with that lovely long tool.

I thought of daring him, but couldn't find the words. It's easy for guys, "suck my cock" is almost part of the language now. But "lick my cunt"? It's not like I have a problem with that word (some girls do; so do some guys). I have a problem with the entire concept of demanding something so crudely. I want a lover who can read my mind, who will know what to do and when to do it, just as I would want to know instinctively what he desires. The only mind Cousin Tom could read, though, would be one laid out on the pages of a grease-stained workshop manual, with cutaway diagrams and numbered stages. Unfortunately, I'd never even heard of the Kama Sutra at that time, let alone thought to look for a copy in the library.

I kissed him hard, stepping backwards to lean against a rock, the weight of his body crushing me down. The rough and bumpy surface drove into my back and I squirmed in search of a little more comfort. Of course he misinterpreted it, and pressed even harder against me. But that was okay. His hand was where I wanted it, pushing through the sodden fabric of my knickers, stretching it into the depths of my pussy. How many fingers was he using? Three? Four? I could smell myself, thick and musty, and that only excited me more.

I drove my tongue into his mouth, coiling around his, and then sucking at it, pulling it into mine. I wished I could pull it somewhere else; if pussies could plead, mine would be begging for him to devour it - and maybe they can, because then he broke away and he was on his knees, his thumbs spreading my lips out wide. I could feel my juices trickling into my groin, and a sudden shock as his breath caught the tip of my clit. I wriggled a little, hoping to draw his attention towards it, then felt his tongue as it traced a line lower down.

I gasped and he whispered. "You taste great." Then he added something else, too low and muffled for me to hear. His lips were firm against my soft flesh, I could feel the stubble of his chin, sharply contrasting with the softness of his tongue as it pushed inside me. I moaned and writhed some more, trying to draw him deeper, but he had pulled back now, to drag his lower lip firmly across my slit. My flesh sank beneath the pressure, then flowed up behind it, searching for that miraculous tongue. At last I found the words. "Lick me."

He licked, short, tentative laps at first, but they soon became longer, slower, firm along the full length of my aching folds. He pinged my clit... that's exactly how it felt, a ping of pure pleasure... and my body stiffened at the contact. There was a moment's hesitation, and then he did it again, deliberately this time. Again I tensed, and I knew he knew, because now his tongue was hard against it, drilling ever harder circles into my clitoris, as I wriggled and twisted beneath him.

Too much, it was too much. I reached down, held his head still. "Slower. Gently"

Again, that glorious sensation, half-tickle, half-torment, and then something new, as his mouth opened wide, and pressed against me, sucking me into his mouth. Deeper and harder, I could feel the pulling, and the warmth of his gums as he drew me in; then I squeaked with surprise as a finger slipped into me, up to the knuckle, long and firm, straining to reach the very back of my cunt.

My hands on the back of his head, holding him firm against me, I pictured his face, buried inside me, my juices cascading down his chin, smearing his cheeks, flooding his mouth. I wondered what would happen if I came again like I did before? I could drown him or, at least, send him choking and gagging... I knew it wasn't going to happen, though, not this time. His mouth felt good... strike that, it felt fucking fantastic. But I needed more. I needed speed and motion, total abandonment - and fear. I needed fear.

He was still sucking, but the sensations were lessening now, and the next time his tongue grazed my clit, I flinched back, not so much that he'd notice, but enough that I knew it was time. Again, I drew his head away, then crouched down before him. "That was wonderful," I whispered, my tongue licking my juices off his sodden face. "But you know what I really want?"

He shook his head.

"I want you inside me. I want you to fuck me. But not here." I pointed up towards Dead Man's Drop. "Up there. I want you to fuck me while I look out at the world." And, before I could even think about what I'd said, I was kicking off the panties that he'd dragged down to my ankles, and leaping towards the heaps of loose scree that were the quickest path up the cliff, scrabbling and scrambling through the sharp, shifting stones, hauling myself up on outcrops and shrubs, breathless and laughing as Cousin Tom arrived alongside me.

"I don't have anything," he panted.

"You've got a cock. That's all I'm interested in." I was shocked at my crudity, couldn't believe I'd just said that. But what the fuck? It was the truth.

"I haven't got any rubbers," he hissed.

"Then pull out when you come." I almost felt angry. Don't boys know anything?

"What if I'm not quick enough?"

We were at the top now. "Do you want to fuck me, Tom, or not?" And he knew I was getting pissed off, because that was the only time I didn't call him "Cousin." He nodded. "Well fuck me, then."

The vertigo hit me like an express train. I sank to my hands and knees, my bare ass pointing heavenwards, my head and shoulders already pressed down against the comfort of solid ground... those few inches of solid ground that were all that lay between me and oblivion. For the first time, I wondered what I was doing. I felt sick, I felt scared, and every cell in my body was pleading with me to flee back to safety.

The breeze felt cooling on my sticky thighs. I tried to focus my mind on that, on the delicious breaths that played around my pussy, and then felt two hands clamp onto my hips. I almost screamed - for a moment I thought he was going to pull me over, that I would tumble to one side or another, and I hugged the ground even harder. Then I did scream as Cousin Tom slipped deep inside me, sliding effortless through my wetness.

I opened my eyes. Not six inches ahead of me, the ground fell away, and now I was fighting nausea too, as sheer terror took over from every other emotion - and then that, too, fell away as Cousin Tom began moving.

He was gentle at first, so I could feel my cunt walls sucking at his shaft. Then he was picking up speed and strength, pounding me faster and harder, until every thrust seemed to jar me closer to that dreadful drop, and I tensed against him, pushing back with every muscle I could muster.

His nails were digging into my hips, but his prick was digging deeper and, way down inside, I could feel something building, the pressure, the pleasure, the chain reaction that was brighter than a thousand suns, bigger than the sky above me, heavier than the earth below.

I was gasping, I was crying, I was screaming and I was coming, crushing the rocks beneath my hands with fingers that couldn't let go, feeling my legs as they drummed mad tattoos that would bruise my shins for days to come; and then he was coming too, hot jets that lashed my ass like a liquid whip, and a cry that melded with mine and rolled across the prairie.

I was still hugging the earth. Behind me, I could hear Cousin Tom's breathing begin to slow, and a momentary tickle as he leaned forward and... did he just lick a drop of his own come off my ass? Wow.

"I need to get back down," my mouth was still pressed against the ground. There was grass on my lips.

"Yeah, me too," he whispered. "Careful when you sit back, though. There's one helluva wet patch just there."

"I did it again?"

"You bet. And next time, I'm going to catch it in my mouth."

Next time? Yes, of course there'd be a next time. So what if I was scared to death and sick to my stomach? So what if I'd rather be buried alive than have to spend another second trembling on the edge of this cliff? If every orgasm is going to feel like that, I'll stay up here forever.