Skip to content As I sat on the sunbed outside, enjoying the afternoon sun, my phone buzzed. It was a text from my cousin Layla.
Hi Ethan, what are you up to? 😘
I stared at the screen for a moment, already imagining the tone behind her message.
Layla was twenty, two years younger than me, bratty, confident, flirtatious, and way too playful for her own good. If there was ever a girl who loved pushing buttons, it was her.
She’d once dragged me into a college party I wasn’t invited to, made me pretend to be her boyfriend to get free drinks, and talked me into skinny-dipping at midnight “just for fun.”
And then there was the time she sat on my lap at the movies because “the other seats were sticky,” then wiggled just a little too much every time someone walked by.
I, on the other hand, was more reserved. I didn’t seek out chaos the way she did. But Layla had a way of dragging me into her adventures whether I liked it or not. I enjoyed spending time with her, just not when it meant getting into trouble, but she had a talent for persuading anyone to follow her lead, and I was a young man who couldn’t resist a forbidden beauty.
I texted back, Not much. Just relaxing.
Her reply came fast. Wanna go shopping? I’m bored and I wanna hang out 😘
I wasn’t the biggest fan of shopping, but saying no to Layla? That was always harder than it should’ve been. I texted her back that I was game.
About fifteen minutes later, the doorbell rang.
When I opened it, Layla stood there with a grin and her purse. She wore a tiny skirt that swayed with the breeze and a snug crop top that left her stomach bare. Her sunglasses were way too big for her face, but she somehow made them work.
Her lips were full, a little glossy from whatever balm she used. Her nose crinkled just slightly when she grinned, and her cheeks had this soft rosy color that made her look younger than she was.
She had that kind of face that could be on a magazine cover if she ever took herself seriously. But she didn’t. She knew she was hot, and she had fun with it. That’s what made it even worse.
I was six feet two and she was half a foot shorter than me. She also had dark glossy hair with shiny blue eyes, a pair of tits that strained against her crop top and after a further investigation, she didn’t wear a bra beneath.
“No bra?”
“Nope … you also look comfy,” she said, eyeing my T-shirt and sweats as she stepped inside.
“I was comfy. Then someone asked me to go shopping on my only day off.”
“Aww, poor you,” she teased, giving me a quick hug. “I’ll make it worth it. Promise.”
She smelled like summer, coconut lotion and something a little citrusy, and her hair was still damp like she’d just stepped out of the shower, but all I could think of at that moment was her full breasts that she deliberately mashed against my chest.
Breaking the hug, she pulled off her sunglasses and sat on the armrest of the couch, swaying her leg casually.
“I’ve been dying to get out of the house all day,” she said. “Felt like I was melting in there.”
“And you figured I was your best shot at free air conditioning?”
“Exactly. Plus, I missed you.”
I grabbed my keys. “You have any idea where you want to go?”
“Hmm, somewhere cute,” she said while tapping her lip. “I need something new for the weekend. Or nothing at all. I just want to try stuff on and feel pretty. What about you?”
“Maybe a shirt will be fine.”
“You’ll look so hot in a fitter shirt.”
I smiled. “Alright then, ready to go?”
Nodding eagerly, she hopped up, brushing her skirt down without even noticing how much leg she was showing.
*****
We parked outside a boutique that Layla claimed had the “cutest summer stuff.” It was small and fancy, tucked into the corner of the plaza, and almost completely empty inside except for one bored employee by the counter.
Layla headed straight for the racks. I trailed behind her, hands in my pockets, watching her pull hanger after hanger, tiny dresses, two-piece sets, barely-there tops, you name it.
“Geeze, I didn’t think you’d buy the entire shop.”
She blew me a raspberry. “I need to find out what makes me pretty.”
I was about to say she already was, but I was careful about stroking her ego.
I sat on a bench outside the fitting rooms while she disappeared behind one of the curtains.
The first outfit was tame. A pink dress with ruffled straps.
“Cute, right?” she asked, stepping out and twirling once.
“It doesn’t look bad.”
But as she kept showing me the dresses, the cuts were getting shorter, tighter and definitely sexier. She stepped out in a mesh top with nothing underneath and a tiny skirt that left nothing to the imagination.
“This one’s kinda slutty,” she said, smirking at my expression. “Too much or just the perfect amount of sluttiness?”
I didn’t answer, which made her giggle. She then turned and walked back in, letting the curtain stay slightly open as she changed. I tried not to stare, tried to pretend I wasn’t catching glimpses of smooth skin, side boobs and the curve of her waist, but I was looking, and she knew it. She even exposed herself more. Her boobs were topped with thick, light pink nipples, with large areolas, big as the base of a cup. Her rack was super prone to jiggling, even with the slightest turn to the right or left and her tits jiggled like jelly. Her pussy, to my surprise, was glistening with lubricants. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise. I knew damn well she was a horny girl.
By the fourth outfit, she didn’t even try to close the curtain all the way.
“Ethan,” she called out, “I need help with the zipper. Come in, quick.”
“What?”
“You heard me. I need your help.”
I glanced around. The place was still quiet, but there were two other shoppers here now, thankfully women though. I slipped inside when no one was watching, pulling the curtain shut behind me.
The fitting room was barely big enough for one of us. She stood in front of the mirror, hair up in one hand, her back exposed. The zipper of the dress had caught just below her shoulder blades. No bra as usual.
“You’re good with your hands, right?” she said playfully.
I swallowed hard and reached for the zipper. I could see the slope of her back, the way the fabric hugged her hips, and the sight of her sparked my horny imagination.
Then she leaned back slightly. Her ass pressed against my crotch and my growing bulge.
“Oops,” she murmured, catching my eye in the mirror with the smallest grin.
“Layla…”
“Hmm?” She turned to face me. The front of the dress barely clung to her chest.
She let her hands drift to the hem and began lifting, inch by inch. No panties either, what a surprise.
“What are you doing?” I asked her as it started getting hot in here.
She turned to face me fully, letting the dress fall to her waist as she pressed her palm against the front of my pants, revealing her beautiful breasts to my eyes. “What does it look like?” Her fingers traced the outline of my hardness. “I think you know exactly what I’m doing.”
My brain finally connected all the dots. “No, Layla. We can’t.”
“Why not?” She stepped closer, her breasts pressing against my chest. “Don’t you feel how good this is? How exciting?” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Nobody knows we’re here. Nobody would ever find out.”
I pushed her hand away. “We’re cousins, Layla. This is wrong on so many levels. And we’re in a fucking fitting room. Anyone could walk by.”
“That’s what makes it so hot,” she said, pressing her lips to my neck. “The risk. The forbidden nature of it all. Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it.”
My resolve was crumbling with each kiss she planted on my skin. “We shouldn’t…”
“But we both want to.” Her hand returned to my crotch, squeezing gently. “I’ve seen how you look at me. I know you want this as much as I do.”
My hands betrayed me, finding their way to her waist. “If someone catches us…”
“They won’t,” she promised, already working on my zipper. “Just be quiet.”
The last thread of my resistance crumbled. I spun her around to face the mirror, bending her forward slightly as I pushed my pants down just enough. She braced herself against the wall, arching her back in invitation.
When I pushed inside her, she bit her lip to stifle a moan. The tight, wet heat of her pussy was overwhelming. I had to pause to collect myself, the reality of what we were doing hitting me all at once.
“Move,” she whispered urgently as if she were so horny she couldn’t hold anything in, pushing back against me.
I began fucking her, watching her face in the mirror as she closed her eyes in pleasure. The small space filled with the sound of our bodies lightly slapping and our moans.
Suddenly, footsteps approached. I froze mid-thrust, hands squeezing her curvy ass.
“Everything okay in there?” The assistant’s voice came from just outside.
“Fine!” Layla called back, her voice remarkably steady as if she wouldn’t be bothered by getting caught with my rod stuffed in her pussy in public. “Just having trouble with the zipper.”
“Let me know if you need assistance.”
“Will do!”
We remained perfectly still until the footsteps retreated. Layla looked at me in the mirror, eyes dancing with mischief and arousal. The danger only seemed to excite her more, and truth be told, it excited me too.
“Admit you love this,” she pointed out.
I pushed all the way in. “I sure do.” I resumed moving, my pace quickening as the pressure built. When I felt myself nearing the edge, I tried to pull out, but Layla reached back and gripped my hip.
“Don’t you dare,” she whispered. “Dump your cum inside me.”
“You’re such a slut, Layla,” I said and sank my fingers into her buns as I fucked her harder.
“I am, and you love it,” she said, moaning as her pussy squeezed my shaft in the most delicious way possible.
I couldn’t hold back. I buried myself deep inside her as I came hard, my body shuddering with the intensity of it. The forbidden nature of what we’d done only heightened the sensation, and it was the best orgasm in my life as I kept filling her wet kitty with cum.
As I caught my breath, Layla made me pull out, my cock still seeping. She turned around and sank to her knees. Before I could say a word, her mouth was wrapped around the tip, cleaning every trace of her honey and my buttermilk with delicate licks and enjoyable moans. The sight of her looking up at me while she did this almost made me hard again. She came off with a smack, licking her lips.
“We should go,” I said, tucking myself away as she stood.
She grinned, pulling her dress back up. “Give me a minute to pick something to buy. We can’t leave empty-handed … that would be suspicious.”
I rolled my eyes. It must’ve been a miracle if we didn’t get caught.
I grabbed a shirt for myself, trying to act normal. I kept glancing at the store assistant, wondering whether she’d heard us or not. Two shoppers passed by and grinned in my direction. They definitely knew.
Layla picked out a pair of ripped denim shorts and an off-shoulder crop top. She already had several like that in her wardrobe, so I had no idea why she needed another one. Not that I was complaining. She looked incredible in it.
When we stepped out of the boutique, she looked at me with a wide grin, the afterglow of her orgasm still on her face.
“That was fun,” she said casually once we were in the car.
“Admit it. You didn’t care about shopping. You just wanted to get fucked.”
“As if you don’t want sex,” she said, giving my shoulder a playful punch.
“I just never imagined our first time would be… in public.”
“Then our second time needs to be somewhere even wilder,” she grinned. “Come on. You can’t be a dork your whole life. You need to let go sometimes.”
I nodded, starting to understand exactly what she meant, and what she wanted from me.
“Why don’t we get something to eat?” I asked.
“Ice cream,” she said immediately, like she’d already been thinking about it.
We kissed before pulling out of the parking lot, and I knew I had a lot to look forward to with her.
The end.
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