Discovering Cousin Ashley

Incest
2007-04-17

Breathing hard, I gulped and grabbed the slick metal bars just before me and tugged myself upward. Aunt Sylvia was saying something to Uncle Jim back there as I dragged my wet body out of the water. I reached back quickly to make sure my trunks didn’t fall backward, exposing my rear end to everyone still in the pool: Aunt Sylvia, Uncle Jim, my mom and younger cousin Mike . . .
“Where you going?” came another voice.
I didn’t look back. “Need to go inside. ”
“What, you need to pee again?” she shouted back.
“Ashley!” That was Aunt Sylvia, voice laced with disapproval. “Are you going to talk like that during the whole visit?”
“Probably. ”
Ashley’s attitude was different, that was sure — way different from what I was used to at my school.
I stepped across the patio, feeling the warm concrete under my bare feet, warmed by the mid-July sun. Aunt Sylvia wasn’t saying anything and I turned back to the pool to answer.

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“I’ll, uh, I’ll be right back. ”
“Why don’t you just pee in the water?” Ashley asked me.

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   She was still there, hanging onto a turquoise-and-blue raft with a giant duck’s head. “That’s what I would do. ” Her bare arms clung to the inflatable plastic and her long brown hair, wet and stringy, clung to her shoulders, some of it dropping in front —
“Ashley!” came her mother’s scold again.
“I didn’t say I did, I was just saying, if I were him . . . ”
“That is rude,” my aunt proclaimed.
I looked back in time to see Ashley shrug, then she tilted her head back, not caring at all.
Was my face already as red as it felt, and not just from the sun? I padded across the pavement, grabbed my towel, and stole inside. The cold air from the air-conditioned sun room washed across me and I shivered.
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