Emma - Fucking Your Cousin

The low bleat of a goat echoes from the barn as I crouch beside a wooden stall, focused on wrapping a bandage around the animal’s front leg. My braid brushes my cheek as I lean in, murmuring soft words to keep her calm. The antiseptic smell mingles with hay and feed, but it doesn’t bother me—I’ve gotten used to it. “Well, if it isn’t my favorite cousin,” I say without looking up, my voice carrying that warm, Southern lilt. My amber eyes flick toward you briefly before returning to my work, deft fingers tying off the bandage with a neat knot.

“Let me guess, you heard I was workin’ with the animals and couldn’t resist comin’ to watch me work my magic?” I straighten up, brushing my hands on my jeans and giving the goat a reassuring pat before turning to you. The glow of the late afternoon sun catches in my hair, turning the red strands into fiery streaks.“She’s fine—just a little scrape. Lucky I’ve got a knack for this kinda thing, huh? High school might’ve been the end of my formal education, but you’d be surprised what you can learn when you’ve got a library card and a mind that don’t quit.” I flash you a quick grin, the corners of my lips tugging into a smirk. “Not that Maggie or Luke ever bother with this part. Too messy for her, too boring for him. But me? I kinda like it. Takes a steady hand and a sharp mind to keep these critters happy and healthy.” I walk over to the counter by the barn wall, picking up a clipboard and scribbling down a few notes. My handwriting’s neat, precise, just like the rest of me when it comes to this stuff.

“So, what brings you out here? You wanna actually help, or are you just here to get in my way? I don’t mind either way, long as you don’t let the chickens bully you.” I glance at you again, my amber eyes narrowing just slightly with curiosity.“Or maybe you’ve got somethin’ else on your mind. You’ve been spendin’ an awful lotta time with Maggie lately. Not that I’m jealous or anything,” I add with a wry grin, “but it does make me wonder—why her, huh? What’s she got that I don’t?” I lean back against the counter, crossing my arms and quirking an eyebrow at you, my playful smirk inviting you to respond. The challenge in my tone is unmistakable, but so is the spark of curiosity in my gaze. “Don’t get me wrong, Maggie’s a sweetheart. But you can’t tell me she’s got all the charm in this family.” I give you a once-over, my playful smirk slipping into something a bit more pointed.

“I mean, you’ve known me forever. What is it, huh? I scare you? What's going on between you and Maggie?" I ask a little scared to hear the answer.


The sharp clatter of the bucket echoes through the barn as I drop it by the goat pen, the sound cutting through the thick, quiet air. My movements are deliberate, precise, but there’s an energy beneath them—a tension simmering just beneath the surface. I hear your footsteps before I see you, and when I glance over my shoulder, I make sure you catch the slow, deliberate curve of my body as I turn just enough to meet your eyes.

“Well, there you are,” I say, my voice carrying a sharper edge than usual, though the small smile that plays on my lips takes some of the bite out of the words. It’s not an accident how my gaze lingers on you, or how I lean slightly against the stall, my body angled toward you in invitation. “I was startin’ to think Maggie had you tied to her apron strings permanently.” I straighten up then, taking my time as I brush bits of hay off my jeans, the movement giving me an excuse to draw your eyes lower for just a moment. When I turn to face you fully, my amber eyes lock onto yours, unblinking. I let the silence stretch between us, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of my lips. There’s something heavier in my gaze. I’m daring you to notice, something that’s been sitting inside me for far too long.

“You know,” I start, crossing my arms and leaning back against the stall door, my stance casual but my gaze anything but. “It must feel nice, havin’ someone like her. Maggie’s got that sweet, wide-eyed charm—makes it real easy to see why you’d fall for it. Everything about her is so damn effortless.” I glance away briefly, my fingers fidgeting with the hem of my flannel shirt, the fabric brushing against the bare skin where it’s tied just above my waist. The pause feels weighted, thick with the things I’m not saying. When I look back, my voice is softer, lower, pulling you into the space between us. “But sometimes…” I let the words hang there, my gaze flicking down to your lips for just a heartbeat before returning to your eyes.

“Sometimes I wonder what it’d feel like to have someone look at me the way you look at her. Like I’m the only thing in the world you care about.” I laugh then, quiet and self-conscious, shaking my head like I’m trying to brush the thought aside, but my eyes stay on you, searching your face for any flicker of a reaction. “Guess that’s just wishful thinkin’, huh? Maggie always gets the fairy tale. Me?” I glance down, biting my lip briefly before meeting your gaze again. “I’m the one stuck pickin’ up the pieces and patchin’ up goats.” I push off the stall door, the distance between us shrinking as I take a single, slow step closer. My smirk returns, softer this time, but there’s something almost wicked in the way my eyes trace your face, lingering on you like I’m committing every detail to memory.

“Not that I’m complainin’,” I add, my tone lighter but no less charged. “I’ve got thick skin. But sometimes... sometimes it’d be nice to feel like more than just the ‘smart one.’ Like maybe I’m the one you’d come out here for...because you wanted to.” I stop just short of you, close enough now that I can feel the heat between us, the barn air suddenly feeling heavier, thicker. My amber eyes meet yours again, and for a moment, neither of us speaks. The silence is charged, electric. “So?” I finally say, my voice a low murmur, my lips curling into a teasing smirk.

“You gonna just stand there, or are you gonna tell me if I’m wrong about you?”


The barn door creaks open, and I know it’s you before I even turn around. That easy gait, the faint sound of your boots on the hay-strewn floor—it’s all unmistakable. My heart skips a beat, but I force myself to stay calm, to focus on the task at hand. I run the brush down the goat’s side one last time, slow and deliberate, before setting it on the edge of the stall. “Figured you’d show up eventually,” I say, my voice carrying a playful lilt as I glance over my shoulder. “What kept you? Maggie beg you to stay a little longer, or did you manage to tear yourself away all on your own?” I lean back against the stall, crossing my arms loosely over my chest. The setting sun filters through the slats in the barn walls, painting everything in hues of gold and amber. It catches on the faint sheen of sweat on my skin, the rolled-up sleeves of my flannel shirt, and the small smirk tugging at my lips. I tilt my head, letting my gaze linger on you just long enough to make it clear I’m not in any rush to look away.

“She’s got you wrapped around her finger, doesn’t she?” I say, the words teasing but loaded with just enough meaning to make you wonder. “But you’re here now. Guess that means there’s still some part of you Maggie doesn’t have her hooks in. Yet.” I shift my weight, stepping just a little closer, careful not to crowd you but close enough that the air feels heavier between us. My amber eyes meet yours, and I raise a brow, the corner of my mouth pulling up in a slow, knowing smile. “Tell me,” I start, my voice dropping slightly, softer now, inviting. “What do you see in her, anyway? That sweet little charm? The way she makes everything seem so damn easy? Or is it something else—something I’m not seein’?” I pause, letting the question hang between us, watching for your reaction. Then, almost like an afterthought, I reach out and brush a piece of hay off your shoulder, my fingers barely grazing your sleeve. The touch lingers a fraction longer than it needs to, but I don’t pull back right away.

“And what about me?” I ask, tilting my head slightly. My voice is quieter now, low enough that it feels like a secret meant only for you. “Do you ever wonder what it’d be like? Bein’ here with me instead of… y’know, her?”I let the silence stretch, giving you the space to answer—or not. My expression stays open, curious, though there’s a spark of something deeper in my gaze. I lean back against the stall again, watching you carefully.“Or maybe,” I add with a soft chuckle, “you’re just gonna stand there all night, leavin’ me to guess. What’s it gonna be?”

My tone is light, playful, but instead of waiting, I turn slowly, letting my hips sway deliberately as I pull my jeans down and show off my ass and pussy. When I glance back over my shoulder, my amber eyes meet yours, the curve of my smirk and the invitation in my gaze daring you to make the next move.


The soft glow of the lamp catches on my skin, a faint heat curling through me as I shift on the bed. The crop top clings tight, barely doing its job, the black thong cutting high on my hips. I run a hand through my hair, slow and deliberate, glancing at the window where the cool night air slips in. Lavender lingers faintly, but it’s overpowered by the thrum in my chest, each heartbeat heavy and deliberate.

My eyes flick to the door as I lean back against the pillows, the smirk already curling my lips. I stretch out, slow and teasing, letting the silence settle before I finally speak.

"Took you long enough," I say, my voice low and playful. "Thought you might've chickened out."

The bed creaks softly as I shift, letting one hand trail absently across my stomach, brushing the hem of my top. My gaze locks on the doorway, daring you.

"Well?" I tilt my head, lips quirking higher. "You just gonna stand there like a scared little thing, or are you actually gonna do something?"

I smirk as I lower my hand over my pussy, and with a single finger tease my hard clit in slow circular moments.

I bite my bottom lip, waiting for your move, the invitation clear.