Light from the cave entrance and several flashlights illuminated the dusty slab of rock. Under the direction of Dr. Wood, I helped several graduate students carefully lift the slab, the swirling dust and dried bat guano made us cough, and a strange resiny odor premeated our nostrils. Dr. Wood photographed the mass of cemented bones underneath, and we gently laid the slab aside.
"I can already tell this is a nice collection of vertebrate fossils," Dr. Wood said. She was my cousin, a geologist from Bingingham State University. It was my summer break after my high school graduation, and aware of my career interest in paleontology, she'd invited me to this excavation she'd been given authority to supervise.
She assigned me one small corner of the deposit and gave me a brush. I got on my hands and knees and started brushing small bits of dirt from atop what looked like permineralized bone into a small glass vial. She told others to diagram the arrangement of bones or take little cores of soil samples. The painstaking work took hours, but just before dusk, the femur of a saber-tooth, and a few teeth of an extinct kind of musk-ox had been carefully extracted from the concentration of fossils. She labeled each and placed them in plastic bags.
"Well, that's good progress for today. Let's meet back here tomorrow seven am sharp," she told everybody. I followed her to the car, realizing now that we were spending the night in the same hotel room--a situation that bothered me. I had a bad habit of masturbating every single night. Though the hotel room had separate beds, of course, I knew I was going to have to try hard not to play with myself. But I knew it would be difficult.
I always masturbated to the most recent sexually stimulating object, I'd seen, and today, that object was my cousin. She was as short woman, barely standing over five feet tall, but she had disproportionately large breasts. I'm not sure of bra size, but I would guess she was a 40DD. Her small stature made her breasts seem even larger than they were. She also had an authoritative, bossy demeanor, and gave off an intimidating aura of intelligence. Despite her attractiveness, she must have scared off men because she'd never been married.
We grabbed a quick hamburger, then went to the hotel room, all the while she discussed her theories about why the bones must have been so well-preserved. She dressed modestly, carefully concealing her unusually large breasts, but I couldn't help thinking about the size of them, curious as to what they looked like naked. The thought gave me unwanted erections which thankfully, my baggy jeans hid. We watched a little television before she suggested we turn in, since we had to get up at six.
She changed into her night clothes in the bathroom, while I stripped to my underwear under the covers. I closed my eyes and didn't look at her as she walked to the other bed. I heard the mattress crinkle, the whispering sound of the sheet pulled back. She turned out the light on her side of the room. I meant to go to sleep right away, but I couldn't. Lust gripped me. I thought of her big bosoms. My penis stiffened...but I did not touch it. It quivered, used to being stroked before sleep.
I listened to traffic outside--boom boxes, noisy hotel customers marching up and down steps. The sounds seemed like another annoying excuse, keeping me awake. And I knew that there was only one cure for my insomnia. I glanced in the dark, my cousin seemed to be still, breathing rhythmically. I reached down to the floor, and slowly, quietly felt for a sock. I had it, placed it around my penis, so I could masturbate into it and not leave an embarrassing cum stain. Hopefully, she wouldn't smell my ejaculate. I started stroking but then I heard her move. I stopped, remained still.
She stood and walked in the dark to the bathroom. She flipped on the bathroom light and I peeked. Much to my surprise, she wore a green, sexy nightie that barely covered her bottom and crotch. I heard her close the bathroom door, lift the toilet seat, and tinkle into the pot. She opened the door, but left the light on, and I could swear I heard her whispering something odd:
"Tickle, tickle, tickle, tickle, tickle..."
She stood there, diagonal to my bed, and incessently repeated that word. It unnerved me. She was acting crazy. I opened my eyes, and the whispers turned to an out loud voice.
"Tickle, tickle, tickle, tickle, tickle..."
Her eyes were glazed over, as if she'd been hyptnotized.
I was speechless, afraid of her because she seemed insane. When she got on the bed, my heart pounded, and I tried to slide away from her, but I felt like I was in a dream where I couldn't move, a hurricane force wing held me paralyzed in place.
"Tickle, tickle, tickle, tickle, tickle..." she kept saying, and she straddled me. Her hands reached under the covers, her fingers finding my ribs. She crossed a line and for some reason it terrified me. I was so startled, I didn't even think to grab her hands to stop her. I laughed--it was the first time I'd been tickled since I was a small child when my mother's pretty hair dresser used to tickle my neck during hair cuts, something she'd teasingly reminded me about when I ran into her at a bowling alley last winter.
I finally thought to grab her hands. She planted her lips on the area between my upper chest and neck and started licking with her tongue. I felt helpless, I held her hands but couldn't stop this third tickling appendage. I began giggling again, my face flushed.
"Please, no," I whimpered, remembering how ashamed I used to get when the pretty hair dresser used to make me giggle.
She pulled the covers back, revealing the sock around my boner.
"That's supposed to go on your foot, not your penis," she said.
She pulled it off, turned around, and started putting it on my foot, leaving her hand inside the sock and tickling my foot sole. I sat up, tried to pull her off, but felt too weak and was unable to budge her with her sitting on my leg.
"I give up," I said between laughs, feeling a joy at being forced to surrender.
She stopped, faced me, and began chanting:
"Tickle, tickle, tickle, tickle, tickle..."
"No, don't," I begged.
She pulled her nightie over her head, unveiling her impressive boobs. They were large and firm, not at all saggy, despite their size. She grabbed my penis, shoved it inside her, and rode me; her bosoms, jutting up and down, shocking me.
She finished me, mumbled in my ear.
"Can you stand seven more nights of our little secret?" she asked.
I remembered the excavation was to take seven days. I held her, but was too ashamed to speak, feeling humbled, humiliated.
After a few more minutes, she spoke again.
"Seven more nights of tickle, tickle, tickle, tickle, tickle..."
My laughter barked into the night; I rose again.
"I can already tell this is a nice collection of vertebrate fossils," Dr. Wood said. She was my cousin, a geologist from Bingingham State University. It was my summer break after my high school graduation, and aware of my career interest in paleontology, she'd invited me to this excavation she'd been given authority to supervise.
She assigned me one small corner of the deposit and gave me a brush. I got on my hands and knees and started brushing small bits of dirt from atop what looked like permineralized bone into a small glass vial. She told others to diagram the arrangement of bones or take little cores of soil samples. The painstaking work took hours, but just before dusk, the femur of a saber-tooth, and a few teeth of an extinct kind of musk-ox had been carefully extracted from the concentration of fossils. She labeled each and placed them in plastic bags.
"Well, that's good progress for today. Let's meet back here tomorrow seven am sharp," she told everybody. I followed her to the car, realizing now that we were spending the night in the same hotel room--a situation that bothered me. I had a bad habit of masturbating every single night. Though the hotel room had separate beds, of course, I knew I was going to have to try hard not to play with myself. But I knew it would be difficult.
I always masturbated to the most recent sexually stimulating object, I'd seen, and today, that object was my cousin. She was as short woman, barely standing over five feet tall, but she had disproportionately large breasts. I'm not sure of bra size, but I would guess she was a 40DD. Her small stature made her breasts seem even larger than they were. She also had an authoritative, bossy demeanor, and gave off an intimidating aura of intelligence. Despite her attractiveness, she must have scared off men because she'd never been married.
We grabbed a quick hamburger, then went to the hotel room, all the while she discussed her theories about why the bones must have been so well-preserved. She dressed modestly, carefully concealing her unusually large breasts, but I couldn't help thinking about the size of them, curious as to what they looked like naked. The thought gave me unwanted erections which thankfully, my baggy jeans hid. We watched a little television before she suggested we turn in, since we had to get up at six.
She changed into her night clothes in the bathroom, while I stripped to my underwear under the covers. I closed my eyes and didn't look at her as she walked to the other bed. I heard the mattress crinkle, the whispering sound of the sheet pulled back. She turned out the light on her side of the room. I meant to go to sleep right away, but I couldn't. Lust gripped me. I thought of her big bosoms. My penis stiffened...but I did not touch it. It quivered, used to being stroked before sleep.
I listened to traffic outside--boom boxes, noisy hotel customers marching up and down steps. The sounds seemed like another annoying excuse, keeping me awake. And I knew that there was only one cure for my insomnia. I glanced in the dark, my cousin seemed to be still, breathing rhythmically. I reached down to the floor, and slowly, quietly felt for a sock. I had it, placed it around my penis, so I could masturbate into it and not leave an embarrassing cum stain. Hopefully, she wouldn't smell my ejaculate. I started stroking but then I heard her move. I stopped, remained still.
She stood and walked in the dark to the bathroom. She flipped on the bathroom light and I peeked. Much to my surprise, she wore a green, sexy nightie that barely covered her bottom and crotch. I heard her close the bathroom door, lift the toilet seat, and tinkle into the pot. She opened the door, but left the light on, and I could swear I heard her whispering something odd:
"Tickle, tickle, tickle, tickle, tickle..."
She stood there, diagonal to my bed, and incessently repeated that word. It unnerved me. She was acting crazy. I opened my eyes, and the whispers turned to an out loud voice.
"Tickle, tickle, tickle, tickle, tickle..."
Her eyes were glazed over, as if she'd been hyptnotized.
I was speechless, afraid of her because she seemed insane. When she got on the bed, my heart pounded, and I tried to slide away from her, but I felt like I was in a dream where I couldn't move, a hurricane force wing held me paralyzed in place.
"Tickle, tickle, tickle, tickle, tickle..." she kept saying, and she straddled me. Her hands reached under the covers, her fingers finding my ribs. She crossed a line and for some reason it terrified me. I was so startled, I didn't even think to grab her hands to stop her. I laughed--it was the first time I'd been tickled since I was a small child when my mother's pretty hair dresser used to tickle my neck during hair cuts, something she'd teasingly reminded me about when I ran into her at a bowling alley last winter.
I finally thought to grab her hands. She planted her lips on the area between my upper chest and neck and started licking with her tongue. I felt helpless, I held her hands but couldn't stop this third tickling appendage. I began giggling again, my face flushed.
"Please, no," I whimpered, remembering how ashamed I used to get when the pretty hair dresser used to make me giggle.
She pulled the covers back, revealing the sock around my boner.
"That's supposed to go on your foot, not your penis," she said.
She pulled it off, turned around, and started putting it on my foot, leaving her hand inside the sock and tickling my foot sole. I sat up, tried to pull her off, but felt too weak and was unable to budge her with her sitting on my leg.
"I give up," I said between laughs, feeling a joy at being forced to surrender.
She stopped, faced me, and began chanting:
"Tickle, tickle, tickle, tickle, tickle..."
"No, don't," I begged.
She pulled her nightie over her head, unveiling her impressive boobs. They were large and firm, not at all saggy, despite their size. She grabbed my penis, shoved it inside her, and rode me; her bosoms, jutting up and down, shocking me.
She finished me, mumbled in my ear.
"Can you stand seven more nights of our little secret?" she asked.
I remembered the excavation was to take seven days. I held her, but was too ashamed to speak, feeling humbled, humiliated.
After a few more minutes, she spoke again.
"Seven more nights of tickle, tickle, tickle, tickle, tickle..."
My laughter barked into the night; I rose again.
