Playing with my cousin during summer vacation

My younger brother comes from a military family. His grandfather was a veteran of the Eighth Route Army and followed the father of the Politburo member who recently stepped down in the southwest. My father was a mid-level officer in the army's field forces, and my mother was a military doctor. I also worked in the military for several years before moving from a remote area to a so-called big city this year. The protagonist of this story, Linlin, is my mother's eldest sister's daughter. My father is from the north, and my mother is from the south. Southern women are generally petite, but my cousin was a beauty even as a child. She kept saying she wanted to marry me. Back then, no one paid attention to children's jokes. I was precocious, and I already vaguely understood the meaning of marriage. I thought to myself that I would marry her someday. As she grew up, she became even more stunning. She was graceful, had a great figure, and a beautiful face. She had big eyes, but they were single eyelids. I don't know why I have a particular fondness for single-eyelid women.

She is only one year younger than me and also very tall, only six centimeters shorter than me. I am only 1.75 meters tall, which is considered a second-class disability among northerners. Now she's a mother of two, but my love and longing for her haven't diminished.

Time stands still in the summer of 2000, in a city in a southern province. I had just graduated from that small city when my father was being transferred to a neighboring coastal province, and I was going to go there to attend high school. Summer vacation started, and my cousin Linlin came to visit and drop me off. She lives in the countryside, so it was a convenient time for her to come. At this age, she was going through puberty, and her figure was already quite shapely. Her breasts were stretched taut over her clothes. It was a hot and humid summer in the south, and in the evening, Linlin was only wearing a very thin polyester shirt (those born in the 80s should know what polyester is, but those born in the 90s probably won't). Of course, it wasn't as transparent as modern clothes, and two buttons were undone. When she bent over, I could see her breasts almost spilling out. I was so captivated by her gaze that I almost drooled. I wished I could turn my eyes away and see even more. She noticed me staring at her chest, and a blush crept onto her face. She immediately buried her head, as if she wanted to disappear into her clothes. I mustered my courage and went to her, taking her hand. I was afraid she wouldn't let me. My palms were sweaty, probably because I was worried about being seen, but her hands were ice-cold, for some reason. She let me hold her hand for a while, then let go and ran to another room. After dinner, I suggested we go shopping, and she agreed. Afraid of being seen, she told me to go first, and she followed behind, holding my hand, only daring to put it in my pocket, afraid of being discovered. It felt like my first time having an affair—both scared and excited.

That night, we went to the rooftop and kissed, but only on her cheek and forehead. Does that count as my first kiss? If so, my first kiss was with my cousin. A few days later, I went to another city. As she saw me off, she quietly handed me a note that read: "Do you like me?" I didn't answer. I just stared at her intently for half a minute. I saw her running after our car until she disappeared from sight. I cried—the first time in my life I'd shed tears for love. I think I did like her, the first woman I'd ever liked, but this feeling could only be buried in my heart. The following year, she didn't go to high school but went to a vocational teacher's college, which was quite popular at the time. After we separated, we could only communicate our longing through letters and phone calls. In university, we kept in touch online. Over the years, for various reasons, we never saw each other again.

It wasn't until September 2004, the year after she graduated from vocational school, four years after we separated, when I was a junior in college in a northern province, that I suddenly received a call from her saying she was getting married. I was stunned and speechless. She cried and told me that her family was pressuring her to get married and had introduced her to a man who ran an aquatic products business. They got married six months later, saying that we were cousins and there was no way things could work out, that it was incest. I was dumbfounded. How could I not have thought of that? There was nothing I could do; I had to accept the fact. I drifted through six months in a daze until winter vacation finally came. I decided to go to her house, or rather, her mother's house. She had gone back to her mother's house. When I arrived, I finally saw her. The excitement and emotion were indescribable, but I couldn't tell her because her parents were there. We could only communicate with our eyes, waiting for the night when we had a chance. Their house was two stories; her parents lived upstairs. Late at night, I went to her room and quietly approached her bedside. We hugged each other tightly without saying a word. Years of suppressed longing finally erupted at that moment. Because of the lack of heating in the south during winter, it was strangely cold; we even had to wear thick pajamas to sleep. Driven by male instinct, I carried her to my bed. Since her parents lived upstairs, we had to be careful; waking them would be disastrous.

But now, a living, breathing woman was beside me, naked. I was genuinely excited and at a loss. And she was my cousin, my aunt's daughter. At that moment, I felt conflicted and wavering. If I continued, it would truly be incest—not just the kind of incestuous thought I'd had, but actual physical incest. A flood of thoughts rushed through my mind. My cousin had no idea about the internal struggle I was going through. But her eager, passionate, and dreamy eyes instantly banished all my inner conflict. I couldn't ignore it all; I couldn't remain indifferent with a woman beside me, or I wouldn't be a man.

This is simply my own memory and thoughts at the time; there's no fancy language or it's not even a proper article. Just take a look, and thank you all.

[The End]

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Playing with my cousin during summer vacation

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