The Summer of '89

Whatever the reason, the fact stood that the faint scent of my cousin's piss and shit drew unflagging worship from me. Was it in my innate nature to worship her? Was she in fact superior to me by virtue of her beauty and attitude, by birthright, in fact? Even as I squirmed inside at these thoughts, the mere thought of such a possibility gave me indescribable excitement.

I felt my self-esteem begin to lower, and I fantasized that that was because I was preparing to follow my true calling: to be Angie's slave.

Then came one night that I'll remember until the day I die. The evening began normally enough. After dinner everyone was doing their usual routine; my Mom and Dad went off to the family room, precious Angie began to do the dishes, and I went downstairs to do the laundry. I couldn't be sure, but I would have sworn that I saw a smirk flash across my cousin's face as I headed for the basement door.

This time, when I came to Angie's underwear and turned them inside out to view the beloved crotch, I was shocked at what I encountered. The crotch itself was quite heavily soaked and even a little crusty. There was a brown streak behind the mixture of girl-juices. It looked like she'd worn them for a week and had masturbated in them every day! They were nearly soaked with a combination of pussy juice and pee, and I wondered how dirty her asshole must have been to produce such a visibly nasty skid mark. I'd seen dirty underwear from her before, but these were absolutely filthy!

I lifted the crotch to my face and drew in the overpowering scent, which immediately gave me a throbbing hard-on. I thought I might pass out, and then I felt an inner peace overcome me. In masturbation at least, I finally gave into the power of my fantasy to be my cousin's slave. I accepted that it was in my very nature to enjoy the filth of her body, that I was in the overall scheme of things, a bottom feeder, at least sexually. I kissed the brown stain in her underwear with reverence, as though it were heaven-sent. I embraced the once nagging realization that I was getting a hard-on from the smell of her piss, and now her shit, for chrissake! I was Angie's slave, and she didn't even know it!

I put the underwear on my head so that the piss/pussy-juice soaked crotch was right over my nose, and the brown shit-stain over my mouth, and began sucking the filth into my mouth. She must have come in these underwear a half dozen times, I thought as I drew the mixture into my mouth. The urine seemed concentrated and stale, and the darker anal tastes were simply enslaving. I pulled down my pants and began stroking my cock when a creaking sound at the cellar steps made me snap my head around in dreadful horror.

There was Angie on the steps staring at me with a huge, evil smirk on her face.

"GodDAMN, Bradley!" she whispered at me, "you are some kind of major league sicko pervert, aren't you?" She stifled a laugh.

I quickly yanked my pants up, but had somehow momentarily forgotten that I was looking at her through the leg holes of her very, very dirty underwear, and that the nastiest part of those underwear were still in my mouth.

"Are those my underwear?" she continued, whispering. "Now I know how you get them so clean!" And this time she laughed a little more audibly.

I suddenly became very aware of my parents sitting a mere few feet directly above us. I yanked the underwear off of my head, and began stammering, "Please don't tell my Mom and Dad, Angie! I'll do anything, just don't tell them!"

She continued staring at me as though she didn't even hear me. "A couple of weeks ago, I decided to play a little joke on you and wore a pair of socks for three days in a row before throwing them down here. God they stunk!" she said and laughed. "But you didn't say a word, so I became suspicious. Last night, I peeked in on you through that window over there," she said, pointing at a storm window at the top of one of the walls in our cellar.

"That's when I found out what a total perv you are," she said, laughing out loud through a deliciously evil smirk.

My mother called down from upstairs, and my heart jumped in my throat! But Angie called up, "It's OK! I'm helping Brad with the laundry!" Mom replied in that motherly tone, "Wow, that's great! I think it's wonderful how well you two kids are getting along now!"

Angie walked over to me, looked down at the underwear and then back at me. "I heard about guys like you, but I didn't think it could be real. You're like some kind of underwear perv!" She snickered, and said, wrinkling her nose, "I guess by the smell of things you're some kind of piss perv, too, aren't you?" The gesture, which was soaked with an intoxicating mixture of bemused arrogance, awe, and some repulsion, seemed to make her look more beautiful to me than ever. I wondered if she could see the adoration in my eyes.

"Shut up, Angie," I protested weakly.

"Well, aren't you?" she taunted, and held up the underwear to my face, putting the dark, saliva-soaked streak right up under my nose. "I watched you yank on your... thing..." She looked at my crotch, briefly, "...until you came the other night, with my underwear stuffed in your mouth! And I know for a fact they were very dirty; I pissed in them!"

I was overwhelmed with a compunction to drop to my knees and beg her to let me worship her, to do unspeakable things for her amusement. And before I could catch myself, I was on my knees, even though I felt totally humiliated and realized it would establish in finality her superiority over me.

"God, please don't tell anyone! I don't know why I do it! I just saw your dirty underwear and it got me to thinking—"

"Thinking what?" she retorted. She assumed a mock voice and said, "Geez, here's my little cousin's dirty underwear! I wonder what they taste like!" and she laughed with glee. "Damn," she teased, her voice dripping with derision, "these underwear are soaked in piss. You may as well just let me piss right on your face! I bet you'd like that, wouldn't you?"

The suggestion hit me with the violence of a train. Just hearing her utter thoughts like that seemed impossible. I just stared up at her with what must have been a pathetic display of silent pleading. She may have taken my silence as a confirmation of her rude comments about me, but I couldn't be sure. I just kept feeling hope that she would agree not to tell anyone, and maybe, just maybe that she might like seeing me in such a pitifully humiliating state. Like a wolf smelling fear, she seemed to grow more arrogant as I grew more desperate. My cousin had me by the balls, and we both knew it.

"OK," she said, and a malicious smile began to grow on her face, "here's the deal. I won't tell anyone." She pulled a pack of bubblegum from her jeans, and popped a piece into her mouth while she stared down her nose at me.

"Thank you, thank you!" I said, as I stood back up, "You're the best, Angie! I promise I'll never do it again—"

"Not so fast, Bradley, my boy. I have to get something out of this too, y'know," she said, loudly snapping the gum. "Hmmm... let me see. You have to be my slave for the rest of the summer," she smiled cruelly and added, "...And I get to do with you or to you whatever I wish, no matter what." I'd never seen such utter satisfaction as she watched my face contort with disbelieving horror and excitement. Then to complete the deal she said, "And then maybe I'll let you off the hook!"

"Umm, OK, Ang, just please don't tell anybody anything about this."

"OK, but you have to let me do anything I want. Anything."

"OK...," I started, "Like what?"

"AHA! Already some doubts, eh??? DEAL'S OFF!!"

"No, no, no! I'm sorry, whatever you want, pleeeease!"

"OK, but if I so much as fart, I want you on your knees in a heartbeat trying to sniff it all up, do you hear?"

"OK, alright!"

"No, I don't think you get it," she said. She reached over for the dirty underwear, looked at the filthy crotch for a moment. Then she held them to my face and said, "Kiss them."