Adult cousins, adult activities

“Whatcha doin?” my cousin Stephanie texted. We grew up together, but in the fifteen years since high school ended, we had evolved to seeing one another in person just once or twice a year, if we were lucky.

“Nothing, how about you?” I said, trying to not sound too excited to hear from her.

“Well, I’m going to be there for 3 months for an assignment. Wanna have dinner?”

“Of course I do!” I said, squealing like a little kid.

Stephanie is my cousin, but she is drop dead gorgeous, and although nothing’s ever happened, she is a delight in real life as a friend and relative, and I confess, she’s also a delight to fantasize about. Perky breasts, not big, but in exchange for not being big, they are also the kind that will still be perky and delightful when she’s 40, 50, 60, and beyond. Tall, lean, athletic, and a bit of a tom-boy. And at times, seemingly oblivious to what she looked like. She’d always let a fair amount of skin show, as if it was nothing unusual, and at times, would change clothes right in front of me, meaning I had seen her in bra and panties countless times, topless many times, completely nude a few times, and a full genitalia view once, on a particularly glorious day when she had to wiggle around on her back to get a particularly tight pair of jeans off.

And there’s more. She’s also good at everything. Athletic, successful, intelligent, funny, charismatic. Currently working as an IT consultant, travelling the world for lots and lots of money. And lately, not just a regular consultant, she’s been promoted numerous times, and is now the manager of hordes of other consultant’s from her company. She’s yet again outdoing me in life, because although I’m quite successful, she’s on her way to a big corner office on one of the highest floors of a really tall building someday.

We decided to have dinner on the Tuesday of her first week in town. We had arranged to meet at 6, but I got a call at about 5 o’clock, can we postpone until 7. Then at 6, a call again, postpone until 8, work and such. And again at 7, postpone until 9. But this time, it actually came through, and we met at the bar at her hotel at 9. It was like old times, we had always gotten along well, but after college, we ended up only seeing each other every couple years. We enjoyed a great dinner, a couple drinks, and were catching up.

“So tell me about the house! It sounds really exciting!” she said. It was. I had gotten very lucky, and bought a huge old house in a questionable old part of town, you know the type that is always on the verge of becoming hip? Well, as I said, lucky: The neighborhood shot up, and the ramshackle house I scraped my money together was worth over a million dollars. And it was just 5 minutes from downtown. And yes, 5 minutes from crack-houses too, but still. The neighborhood was on the up and up!

“It’s great, I love it. It’s tight to pay for it and fix it up too, now that the neighborhood is on the rise, it’s become one of the less well kept properties in the neighborhood. And it’s huge; I might need to rent rooms out to pay for the repairs.” I joked.

She crinkled her nose like she always used to, something doubly cute because of the freckles on her nose. “Hmmm.” she said.

“What?”

“I’m paying $250 a night to stay at this hotel, all on the firm. Download one of those invoice creating programs on the internet, let me stay with you for the 3 months I’m going to be travelling here, and I can pay you the same $250 a night. It’ll be fun!”

“I can’t charge you to stay with me; you can stay free, geez!” I said.

“It’s not my money, you moron!” she joked. “It’s my company’s money. Done deal. I stay in town 4 nights a week, that’s $1,000 a week, $4,000 a month, $12,000 for the 3 months I’ll be here. That’s it, I’m staying at Jack’s bed n’ breakfast!”

“Well, you make a good offer! Jack’s bed and breakfast it is!” I said.

“Excellent. Oatmeal and coffee for breakfast please, 6 a.m. sharp! My only requirement is prompt room service. Oatmeal and coffee, 6 a.m. sharp every morning is all I need. You can bill me for that too; I think it’s about $30 just for that in this crazy hotel.”

She decided to check out of the hotel right then and there, and would follow me to my place. I was a bit concerned about this, because as a bachelor, I’m not exactly a good housekeeper. Seal of disapproval, in fact, is all I would qualify for. I tried to get her to wait until tomorrow, but she’d have none of it. “I’ve seen your room before, remember? I know how you live.” She had a point. However she saw my room when I lived at home and had a mother who cleaned up after me. My place was a bit of a wreck, but thankfully, the house was so big, that I did actually have a spare bedroom with private bath that was in decent shape.

“Oh.” she said flatly as we walked through the front door. She can’t say I didn’t warn her. It was a magnificent house, but I was a bachelor, it was a bachelor pad, and it looked like one.

“Toldja you should have waited!” I teased. I was quite embarrassed, but decided to try and pass it off as a joke.

“Tomorrow, we shop.” she said, walking in. “God, I can’t wait to get out of this damn suit! Where’s my room?” she said, walking up the stairs, taking off her jacket as she spoke. I followed, carrying her suitcase.

“Second door on the left.” I said up the stairs. I looked up, and lo and behold, not much had changed, because by now, she had undone her blouse, and had slung it off before she even reached the top of the stairs. She opened the door and went in, and by the time I made it in the door with her bags, she had kicked off her shoes, and was wiggling her pantyhose off, from underneath her skirt. Not too much to see, other than her feet, which had always been sexy. And that there was a little peach thong bundled up inside the pantyhose too, she had removed her pantyhose and panties in one motion. I tried not to stare.

“Ok, this is actually quite nice.” she said. She had a knack of disarming those moments where she disrobed in front of people. “Although, you realize there are these things called window treatments? Blinds? Curtains?” She was mocking the vinyl roller I had for window treatments, apparently. “Yes. Tomorrow, we shop.” she repeated.

“Fine. I suppose you are going to find fault with plastic knives and forks too?”

“OMG!” she said, spelling out the ‘O’, the ‘M’, and the ‘G’ for dramatic effect. “We are not barbarians! OK, tell you what, I’m going to pay you $1,000 right now via PayPal, because we have to cover this whole bed and breakfast thing. You make up an invoice, plus $30 for breakfast and $30 for parking, and that’ll be the weekly bill. You’re going to have to pay for the furnishings. And you have oatmeal and coffee? 6 a.m., remember!”

“Yes’m” I said, doing my best “Hoke” voice from ‘Driving Miss Daisy’.

“Ok, g’nite! I better get some sleep, but I’m really excited, this is going to be great!” she said, and gave me a tight hug, breasts pressed firmly into my chest, but again, this is Stephanie, no reason to think it meant anything.

“G’nite!” and I turned around. I wasn’t intentionally looking, but in the reflection of the picture next to the door (the picture came with the house, by the way), I saw the bra fly off, and a glimpse of breast. I could tell this was going to be a great 3 months.
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I had set my alarm for 5:30, to give me ample time to make the coffee and oatmeal, plus shower, get cleaned up, etc. I was a little bit of a health nut myself as well, so I did actually have old fashioned oat-meal, not the instant kind. I made a nice breakfast tray of oatmeal (well, if you consider using a desktop in-box tray as a breakfast tray, remember, I am a bachelor) and walked up the stairs. Tap-tap-tap. “Room service!” I said loudly enough to be heard.

“Come in!” she said harmoniously, emphasizing the ‘n’. I walked on in, and wasn’t disappointed. She was already up, standing off in the bathroom with the door open, in purple panties and nothing else, standing there with her toothbrush in her mouth and breasts fully exposed as if it were no big deal. “Just put it right there, I’m running a bit behind. I’ll be home early, I hope, like six or so.”

It was a long day of anticipation and excitement. I still had years of experience to call on, so I ultimately knew that nothing would probably happen, other than a peep show now and then, but we sincerely enjoyed each other’s company, and it was going to be nice having her around.

Her first evening home, we went to a couple stores and she chose things to begin the transformation process from bachelor pad into a nicely decorated home and bed and breakfast. She suggested going pro on the bed and breakfast idea, because she could even suggest other consultants from her company start staying there after she’s left. I liked the “after she’s left” part, because I was being selfish, I wanted her all to myself. She suggested things I would have never imagined for the house, and that first day, I spent pretty much every penny of her $1,000 payment for the weeks stay, and we came home with things like comforters, knives and forks made of metal (what a concept!), towels that matched, and things I didn’t even know what they were. We had been to three stores, ranging from a supercenter style store with lower prices, to an upscale department store, and also to my favorite store, the Dashard’s outlet.

This was the local store where Dashard’s somewhat upscale items went after each season’s clearance, and although it involved searching and hunting, incredible bargains could be found there too. Most of my wardrobe came from Dashard’s clearance, in fact, and although we just got house wares, Stephanie was impressed with the store. She liked her bargains too. We got home, threw some of the items in the wash, and got busy putting the new things out. And halfway through, she changed into short shorts and a white tank top with no bra, yet again giving me nice things to look at, and like always, doing it in such a casual offhand manner, that it wasn’t really a sexual thing, she was just being comfortable. At one point while spreading the new sheet set on the bed, she had to lean way forward on the opposite side of the bed, and I got a little down-blouse glimpse of her nipple, and that was delightful. But for the most part, her first full evening at home was busy redecorating, and I had to admit, the place looked a lot better.

“I really liked that outlet store we went to. The prices were amazing; the stuff we got there would have cost 4 times as much if they had been regular prices!” Stephanie exclaimed.

“I know, if you’re willing to search through some junk, there are fantastic bargains there. My whole wardrobe came from there!”

“Well, you may not know much about decorating a house, but you do dress well.” Stephanie said with a grin, pleased with herself for combining an insult and compliment in the same sentence. “You know, for a man?” Again chuckling that she had furthered the insult. “Hey, tomorrow, let’s go clothes shopping. At those prices, I have to pick up a few things.”

“Oh, yes you do!” I said. I could play the joking insult game too. “Actually, you look amazing, and you dress incredibly well. It’s a date!” I wished out loud. I felt a little weird paying that kind of compliment. But he knew to just be happy for the time with her. And she’d be staying with him another 2 months, 3 weeks, and 5 days. Not that he was counting.

Stephanie got home at 5:30 the next day, and they drove off to the outlet store. It was a huge expanse of racks, and you just had to take the time to dig. A typical 10 feet of rack space would be probably 200 crappy items that should just be burned, but the reward for taking the time, would be an amazing needle in a haystack item. Stephanie knew what she was doing, and about every two or three minutes would pick something out to try on. In no time, she had maybe 10 outfits, including suits, dresses, and blouses. And based on the taste she was showing, I started rifling through a nearby rack, occasionally picking things out that I liked. I’m actually good at spotting clothes, so most of the items were nice, but not all. “Oh my god, what were you thinking!” and “Ewww” and “Ick” were Stephanie’s response to some of the items, but all in good humor. I spotted one little blue dress that made my insides stir. It was a little slutty. No, a lot slutty. Incredibly slutty, far too short, thin fabric, neckline down almost to the navel, no back, and slits, incredibly trampy slits up to the hips. “How about this?” I joked, secretly imagining what Stephanie would look like in it with no panties. He knew it was her size too, size 4. God, Stephanie was amazing looking. “In your wet dreams, buster!” she joked. I had to wonder with that comment whether Stephanie indeed knew what I was really thinking.