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Seven hot new erotic adventures with the Rocky Mountains' raunchiest couple. Follow Cousin Rose and Cousin Tom as they hump and bump their way through Monroe CO - includes the stories "Cousin Tom's First Motorbike," "Cousin Tom's Revenge," "Cousin Tom Slips Behind," "Cousin Tom & The Sisters of Mercy," and more!
EXTRACT from COUSIN TOM'S FIRST BLOWJOB Cousin Tom’s always been a kidder, daring me to do things that even Tomboys would think twice about. But then he hit me with a challenge that really left me reeling. At least until I’d had a moment to think about it.
“Bet you wouldn’t dare climb Dead Man’s Drop.”
“Bet I would.”
“Bet you wouldn’t dare jump off that wall.”
“Bet I would.”
“Bet you wouldn’t dare run into that orchard and grab us an apple each.”
“Bet I would.”
For as long as I can remember, Cousin Tom… I’ve always called him that, even though “jerk” is shorter… has spent his days dreaming up new things to dare me to do. And, for as long as I can remember, I’ve always done it. Throw a stone through a window, bark back at the vicious old dog that lived down the street, put a thumb tack on Professor Burke’s chair. He only needs to challenge me, “I bet you wouldn’t dare…”, and I’m already working out how to do it.
It’s not just one-way traffic, either. I give as good as I get, and Cousin Tom is on it like a shot. And, again, we’ve been like that our whole lives.
Well, there really isn’t much else to do round these parts, which is why – given the choice between heading down to the town library to study, or across to the playing fields to watch Cousin Tom play soccer, I decided to do both, cheering his team to a three-zip win, while wishing the cute center-forward on the opposition side would take a tumble on the touchline, so I could get a closer look at him. There isn’t much in the way of boys round here either, which is another reason I spend most of my time hanging with Cousin Tom. In the world of the blind, the one-eyed man is King.
“Hey Rosie, thanks for coming.” Still decked out in his soccer uniform, but his hair wet from the showers in the changing room, Cousin Tom was first out after the game, and nobly agreeing to join me at the library. “I won’t be too long in there,” I told him. “In and out of the local history room, promise.”
“No sweat. There’s nothing else to do today. Unless you wanna go get a drink first?”
Disadvantages of living in a small town. Fake IDs don’t work. Everyone knows who everyone else is, and you can forge the greatest driver’s license in the world, but the bar tender still knows what it ought to say. Cousin Tom, though, had never let details like that slow him down. “Okay. What you got in mind?”
“I happen to know,” he begun teasingly, “that a couple of the guys stashed some kegs round behind the old Matheson property. And I thought we should go and help them finish them.”
“Great.” It was only a few minutes detour off our path, and a mid-morning spent yelling from the touchline certainly was thirsty work. Plus, I could tell by the silences that kept enveloping Cousin Tom that he definitely had something on his mind, and I was willing to bet there’d be a bet in there someplace.
I was right. although the bets weren’t simply tame by his usual standards, they were lame as well. “Bet you can’t drink this in one,” he challenged as he handed me a chipped mug full of cheap beer, and I just snorted derisively. I’ve drunk Cousin Tom under the table more times than I can remember, and this afternoon would be no exception. But still I couldn’t help but suspect that he had something more on his mind - the bet to end all bets, the mother of all challenges. And here it comes.
We were back out on Main Street, turning the corner towards the library, drunk enough to be having fun trying to knock each other over with a hip check, when he came out with.
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