Cousin Bo - After Dark - E-Book

Cousin Bo E-Book

After Dark

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Beschreibung

DESCRIPTION:
Sela flees town after catching her man with her younger sister. On her way to begin her life anew elsewhere, she stops over in Indiana to meet her Cousin Bo for the first time, proprietor of a sleepy motel. She agrees to a brief stay to regroup before continuing on with her travels. A conversation about life and sex in a dimly lit room ends with her being bound, “showered,” and thoroughly used to forget all about her troubles.


EXCERPT:
Bo pulls a rag from the back pocket of his shorts, using it to wipe the sweat off his pecs and hairy pits. I can smell him. It is an earthen aroma, like a sun-warm pasture, the patient labor of animals mixed with motor oil. It is the kind of scent most women don’t take to, not even I, usually, but it is a manly scent and it stirs a tingle behind my panty line.

We’re rehashing life. The things we’ve experiences, things we regret past and present, and old loves. He starts talking about gambling and a Chinese whore outside of Reno when he abruptly stops. He takes a swig from the flask. “You’re turned on, cuz? Me fucking the brains out of that filthy, succulent whore?” he asks the dim room, voice steady and soft.
I’m scared. I lower my eyes. My legs are parted abnormally wide. I consider brushing off his inquiry, seeing that I am jealous of the whore and all the things she might’ve done with a man like him.

“You’ve had your eyes on me all day. I could feel it.”

His gentle tone gives me courage. I take a sip from my cup and turn on a nearby lamp to really look at him when I want.

“Don’t be shy. Pretty girls always like to look and spread their legs for me. So are you turned on by me making her night?”

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by After Dark

Published by Lot’s Cave

Cousin Bo, © 2021, After Dark

Cover by Lot’s Cave

All Rights Reserved

All Characters In This Book Are Age 18 Or Older

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only and may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this ebook with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this ebook and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to the Lot’s Cave website and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

A Lot’s Cave Novel

www.LotsCave.com

CONTENTS

Cousin Bo

 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~

Author’s Note

Family Exotica

Taboo Erotica

Other Novels

by After Dark

I spend late afternoon poolside. I try to read a novel like rich vacationers’ do in the movies, but it is next to impossible. It is really hard to focus on the brutish Colonel taking the precious of the young servant girl back behind the barn because the big hairy chest in front of me is a maddening distraction. So much so it is hard not to stare. The long thick beard, the big rounded muscles, the mat of fur spreading across his torso like a mountain man–he might be perfect for me if he was just a tad bit shorter and a little less meatier.

August in Indiana: muggy and sunny. Clouds shift over, edged in gold. I’m the only motel guest around, enjoying the quiet, soaking up the afternoon sun, cooling down in the pool shallow when I get too sweat. He is the only motel representative in sight. Thick eyebrows, rounded cheeks, hard jaw, brown hair a mop of curls: crashing waves at the top and slight overgrowth tamed in the back and at the sides–his bearded face is handsome and stern, unsmiling, but friendly as he gives a tight little nod every time he pushes his towel-heaped cart past me and every once in a while his dark eyes shoot a lingering look.

It is no secret I’m just another pair of legs for a man like him. Given how dead this place is and how far town is away, it’s probably the only good pair he’s seen in a very long time. Though this might’ve given me the creeps any other time, knowing what we knew, I secretly hope he likes what he sees. I’m oiled up and sunbathing, sprawled in a lounge chair in my two-piece red bathing suit, flopping hat, and sunglasses like they do in the movies.

That evening, I’m in my room, opening my first hard lemonade, wondering where I can fetch some fast food real fast before I can call it a night with this bottle. A sharp knock at the door distracts my thoughts. I open it, dressed in a shirt tied-up and Daisy Dukes, bottle in hand. It’s him, the man I quietly drooled over all afternoon. He is still shirtless and in shorts, silhouetted against lavender sky. Under his arms, he is carrying towels. In his other hand, he is holding a gym bag.

He scans me up and down. The stern look fades. Here, his grin is crooked and gentle, framed by that thick brown beard. “You need more towels, cuz?”

“Uhhh,” I stumble, conflicted in my feelings and my response. “Uh, sure. Thanks.”

In he strides. He puts the gym bag and towel on the dresser. Turning, he looks at me up and down again. “You got another one of those?”

“I, uh,” I’m standing in the open doorway. A warm breeze tickles my arms. His chest hair is so thick I can barely make out the pink of his nipples. “What?”

“One of those hard lemonades,” he chuckles. “This here’s my last room to check. Shift’s done now. Feel like a cool drink to start off the evening. Can you spare one or two?” His voice is a deep baritone. His thick accent reeks of his old home in the Ozarks.

I shut the door. “Yeah, sure, I guess.” The blood in my face rushes down behind my panty line. I feel the wetness between my thighs grow on my way to the ice bucket I stashed them in. I’m twenty. I’m seven months away from buying these drinks legally. My best girl Sandy sent me off with four bottles on my quest towards the Rocky Mountains. I try to act like an adult for once, not a school girl worried about being unchaperoned with a strange man. He sits on the armchair with his hairy calves brushing against what’s next to it. I sit in the chair.

I’m shy and a little anxious, seeing that all this large strange man has to do is roll off the edge of the chair and land right there in my lap, damn relations. But his twang is soothing, and this makes this here easier. By the end of my first drink I’ve got a buzz on, and we’ve both learned a lot.

His name is Bo, of course. Just Bo, no Beauregard. He is my first cousin, eleven years my senior, though we never met face-to-face until last night. I reached out to him online a year ago in search of my estranged maternal connection. When I told him I was passing through on my way out to Denver he insisted that we finally meet. He sweetened the deal by inviting me to stay on here. He lives just on the other side of the expressway, in a trailer on its own piece of land to work on cars and sell parts. He bought the motel for next to nothing as sort of a local pay and spray for men and their partners for the night or for the hour. He never been married and plans to keep it that way for a real long time, though there is a sweet girl up in Greencastle he’s quite found of in spite of his best friend, her brother.

My name is Sela. Up until three days ago, I was just a girl in love with a man who happened to walk in on said man with my younger sister. I could have gotten mad. I chose to get even–with his arch-rival Butch for one. Before word could get out about that, I knew he had a coworker out at the quarry name Anthony that didn’t mind sticking it to him either. So I spread my legs for Anthony on the roof of his convertible and gave all the workers around a show. Shortly after he came, I was filled with instant regret. Eyes that once saw me as the good girl around were eagerly looking for their turn since I so freely gave it away. With a reputation ruined, I decide Colorado is the place for me to go. The hope of being a wife and mother depended on it.

Sun’s set, room’s dim, hard lemonades knocked down. We make a game of tossing the glass bottles in the basket. We share a makeshift dinner of sandwich crackers he pulled from the vending machine outside. “I guess history is repeated itself,” Bo says, pouring bourbon from the flash he’s fetched from his gym bag. He hands me a cup, moves to the window, draws the drapes, and then slips off his flip-flops from his socked feet before he sits back in the chair. “Mom left home after your mom slept with her boyfriend. She opted for Bentonville hoping for a job at Walmart before Pa dragged her happy ass back to Cedarcreek to be a proper wife and mother. From what I heard, your mom stuck around waiting for that man to make her his wife. Even after she had you fourteen years later, she still had to watch your old man marry their much younger cousins. Hope for your sake the little bitch gets what’s coming to her.”

It is hot in here. The air conditioning isn’t working well, and here I am just learning the origin stories of my parents. I knew Dad ran off and married her cousin. Mom tried to make a fuss about it, but she quickly lost her wind about it. I swore it was an awful thing and I vowed to have little to do with the bastard. I just knew I was cheated out of a father, visiting him and his new family over there. It was simply karma, I was learning. Simply karma.

Bo pulls a rag from the back pocket of his shorts, using it to wipe the sweat off his pecs and hairy pits. I can smell him. It is an earthen aroma, like a sun-warm pasture, the patient labor of animals mixed with motor oil. It is the kind of scent most women don’t take to, not even I, usually, but it is a manly scent and it stirs a tingle behind my panty line.

We’re rehashing life. The things we’ve experiences, things we regret past and present, and old loves. He starts talking about gambling and a Chinese whore outside of Reno when he abruptly stops. He takes a swig from the flask. “You’re turned on, cuz? Me fucking the brains out of that filthy succulent whore?” he asks the dim room, voice steady and soft.

I’m scared. I lower my eyes. My legs are parted abnormally wide. I consider brushing off his inquiry, seeing that I am jealous of the whore and all the things she might’ve done with a man like him.

“You’ve had your eyes on me all day. I could feel it.”

His gentle tone gives me courage. I take a sip from my cup and turn on a nearby lamp to really look at him when I want.

“Don’t be shy. Pretty girls always like to look and spread their legs for me. So are you turned on by me making her night?”

“Not by her.”