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We were having sweets and tea at the picnic-style table in the kitchen. I’d just bathed and had on my nightie. Cousin Julie also had on her flimsy nightie and sat so she nudged me so our arms were as though stuck together, the little hairs standing at attention, warmth kindling higher the longer Cousin Julie sat so insistently close to me. Even when I politely scooted down the bench to make extra space, she followed suit and again our legs and arms pressed together and her hand settled on my thigh, fingers drawing slow circles and curves. I then had to see that if this kept up, I would have no place to scoot to, due to the wall, leaving no escape from Cousin Julie’s fingers and pressing warmth.It was later that she informed me of how Beşevler escort it almost made her jump out of her skin when one scoot to keep close to me brought her to sit where I had sat and she could not ignore—no bottom could ignore, especially without panties as we were—the patch of dampness that could’ve been left by none but me; created by none but her fingers drawing and dancing on my leg. Knowing the truth of my wetness emboldened her to embrace the certainty that we would be nude and together, close together, in either my bed or her bed. She knew she would feel my tongue touch her and lick her. She knew by then I would be most willing. She also knew that in my unconscious layers, we were Çankaya escort bayan already writhing together and we were feeling each others fingers exploring our most intimate depths; my conscious, surface, denial she savored the most because she knew it would have to be short-lived.I tried to keep calm in the feelings of discomfort, though it was not exactly discomfort, but the inkling of a feeling I either believed I ought to not have or wasn’t aware I should have, the inkling really a nice way to say wetness in my pussy, but of course more than the wetness, as in the fluttery sensation that stirred in the pits of my belly while trying to chat with Auntie Annie, at the way Cousin Julie Escort Cebeci boldly touched my thigh, so gently meandering her hand, with an above-table pretense of reaching for a cake, while Auntie Annie tried to keep the conversation moving onward. Maybe she noticed my halted response which I say was authored by cousin Julie’s fingertips that had reached the part of my nightie hem that barely draped over my pussy; on the surface it might seem absentminded, totally innocent. But she would have to know of the goose bumps that spread from those fingers of hers, which had somehow managed to creep a tad closer and then a tad closer.“Julie, are you flirting with your cousin?”“Yeah. I am. I can’t wait to–”“Is Julie fondling you? Or trying to fondle you?”“Y-y-yes. I guess… I…”My trembling fingers dropped the forkful of cake, making crumbs scatter on the tablecloth. I was nervous but also melting against my cousin, as well as into the smooth bench surface that was now quite damp due to the tingles my cousin’s persistent touches aroused.
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