The ugly cousin’s midnight surprise

I was crashing at my aunt and uncle’s place after a long-ass property tour—some rich client wanted a penthouse with a view, and I’d spent the whole day kissing ass and faking smiles. By midnight, I was beat, sprawled on the guest bed in just my boxers, half-drunk on the bourbon I’d swiped from their cabinet. The house was quiet, just the hum of the AC and the occasional creak of old wood.

Then the door cracked open.

At first, I thought it was the damn cat. But no it was her. My cousin, Lisa. Twenty-three, chubby as hell, with that permanent sweat sheen on her forehead and that greasy hair she never washed enough. And right now? Buck fucking naked.

I didn’t even have time to react before she was climbing onto the bed, her tits (big, yeah, but sagging) pressed against my chest. Her breath smelled like cheap wine and bad decisions. “Ian,” she whispered, like it was some big secret. “I know you’re awake.”

I groaned, rubbing my face. “Lisa, what the fuck?”

She didn’t answer. Just slid her hand down my stomach, fingers hooking into the waistband of my boxers. I was still soft (no way this was happening) but then her fingers wrapped around me, clumsy and eager. “C’mon,” she whined. “I saw you checking me out earlier.”

I hadn’t. Not even close. But fuck if my body didn’t betray me the second her hot, sticky palm started working my cock. Against my better judgment, I felt myself thickening in her grip.

“See?” she giggled, way too proud of herself. “You want me.”

I should’ve pushed her off. Should’ve told her to get the hell out. But the bourbon was buzzing in my veins, and yeah—fine—it’d been a long week. And Lisa, ugly or not, had a mouth.

So when she ducked under the sheets and took me in, no warning, no finesse, just wet, I let out a curse and grabbed the back of her head. She wasn’t good. Too much teeth, too much slobber, but Jesus, the enthusiasm. Like she’d been dreaming about this for years.

I let her choke on it for a while, her nose buried in my pubes, her spit dripping down my balls. Then I yanked her up by the hair. “Turn around,” I growled.

She blinked, confused. “Huh?”

“You wanna fuck? Then get on your knees.”

Lisa wasn’t smart, but she wasn’t dumb. She scrambled onto all fours, her ass (pale, dimpled, sweaty) jiggling in my face. The smell hit me first. That musky, unwashed reek of someone who skipped showers. But fuck it. I wasn’t kissing her.

I spat into my hand, rubbed it over my cock, then lined up. No condom. No lube. Just the wet smear of her desperation.

When I shoved in, she yelped. Tight. Too tight. Like she hadn’t done this in forever. “Oh my God,” she whimpered, nails digging into the sheets.

I didn’t go slow. Didn’t care. Just gripped her hips and hammered into her, the bed slamming against the wall. Each thrust made her tits swing, her belly jiggle, her breath come out in little uh-uh-uh gasps.

“You like that?” I grunted, smacking her ass hard enough to leave a mark.

“Y-yes—”

“Bullshit.” I leaned over her, my chest against her sweaty back, and fucked her deeper. “You’re just happy anyone’s giving you attention.”

She moaned like I’d praised her.

I didn’t last long. Not because she was good—she wasn’t—but because the whole thing was so wrong it tipped me over the edge. I pulled out last second, jerking myself onto her back, streaks of cum painting her skin.

Lisa collapsed face-first into the mattress, panting. “That was… amazing.”

I rolled off her, wiping my dick on the sheet. “Yeah. Sure.”

She turned her head, blinking up at me with those dopey eyes. “We should do this again.”

I laughed (hard) and reached for the bourbon. “Get out, Lisa.”

She pouted but slithered off the bed, her naked body glistening in the dim light. At the door, she glanced back. “You know you liked it.”

I took a swig, not answering.

The second the door clicked shut, I poured another drink.

Some nights, you just couldn’t win.