I, the saint, Sonia, the whore (part 1)

My first lesbian experience was with my cousin Sonia. I wouldn't dream of sucking on a blow job or getting sucked by a girl. I was raised to like men, and I always thought about getting married, having kids, being a serious woman, that kind of thing. But in the middle of it, I spent some time with my cousin. Sonia was very different from me, she was beautiful, a brunette, curly hair down to her waist, fleshy lips, a large body, a broad back, a full, pointed ass. I was just a colorless, pale, lifeless person. She was serious, independent, badly behaved, defied our uncles, beat a boy, had piercing eyes, smoked hidden weed. I used to date much older men. And I, I was just a silly little girl, I was afraid of her, of her presence, which caused me a certain awkwardness, but at the same time, I was fascinated by her, by her attitude towards life and people. I was already interested in sex, but my experience with it came down to watching pornographic movies and masturbating in bed or in the bathroom, usually with a wire brush and drunk. In our adolescence, our meetings were reduced to the few times we saw each other during school holidays, in a town in the interior of Minas, at our grandparents' house. Sonya traveled there every year, knew the city well, the neighborhood, the people, lived outside the house, chatting away with each other. The city was, and still is, small, quiet, without many attractions for teenagers. I almost didn't go to my grandparents' house because I lived in a distant city at the time. But in the year in question, my parents traveled on their second honeymoon and sent me there. When I arrived at my grandmother's house, she was already there. At first, she didn't give me much confidence. It was "good day" and "good morning" and "good morning". I think she thought I was a silly girl, not funny. In fact, I was. My grandparents were loving and kind to us, doing everything to please us and giving us a lot of freedom, relying on the safety of the city and the education we received. One night, I was in my room, almost falling asleep, with the lights off, when I heard moaning. The whispers came from a corridor in the backyard right next to my room, a narrow, dark, tree-lined corridor, so that one could be more or less hidden in it from passersby on the street, but from my bedroom window, I had a very privileged view. I got up in the dark and carefully opened the curtain, but only a little bit, to see what was going on. That's when I saw Sonia leaning against the wall smoothing one of her breasts out of the strapless blouse she was wearing, while a man much older than her, about 60 years old, crouched down, was vigorously sucking on her bouquet, suspending her skirt. I recognized him right away. It was Mr. Hélio, a man who spent part of the afternoon playing cards with my grandfather and was married to a very serious and well-behaved lady who attended the prayer group at my grandmother's house. I was completely bewildered, overwhelmed, shocked, confused, but I couldn't stop looking, I was completely petrified. My cousin was literally getting sucked by a wrinkly guy who played cards with Grandpa and seemed to really enjoy it. She was moaning loudly and grabbed the old man's head by the hair and shoved it forcefully into her bouquet. In fact, she was going back and forth with the man's head, as if she was climbing on his face. From where I stood, I could see the man's enormous tongue going in and out of Tinkerbell's mouthpiece, making the sound of a sucker, twisting to suck to the utmost, now sucking, now sliding... Sonia then began to pant heavily, writhing all over, and after a while her body became stiff and she mocked, mocked at the old man's mouth. Then she opened a huge smile of satisfaction, lifted up the sleeve of her blouse, lowered her skirt, and walked in without saying goodbye to the man. The old man got up, pulled his stick out and, alone, masturbated, even mocked about the plants in the yard, then quietly left. That was the first, but not the only time I saw the two of you. The scene became commonplace and not just with this old man, with many other men, young, old, fat, thin, obese, white, black. Sonia did not distinguish between men and crawled with various different types in the hall. I watched the whole thing, feeling a mixture of disgust and horny. My bouquet soaked with the scenes and I began to masturbate deliciously while watching my cousin fuck. I became addicted to masturbation because of her. My heart was pounding every time I heard the sound of the gate opening at dawn. Piranha, I said. Idiot. The bitch is coming to get her ass. I thought, but I couldn't help the smelly liquid that ran down my legs. I felt a rage that emanated from my sense of purity, of right womanhood, at the same time that I envied that profane, dirty, creepy, clandestine life, full of filth, sex, masturbation, teasing, fucking in the face, finger in the ass, kissing, slapping. When she didn't show up at night with a man, I hated her. She cursed all the names: piranha, tramp, commoner, bitch. Names that I didn't use in my daily life. I became obsessed with watching her, and I especially enjoyed sex with old men. The older the man, the more aroused I was, the more distinguished, the more I got wet with a boner, as if the more corrupt the man was, the more I liked him. I would put a chair in front of the window, take off all my clothes, sit on the chair with my legs open, naked, and then wait for my bottle to start flowing, leave the brush handle on the door of my bottle, and caress myself slowly as I watched my cousin give the bottle, the cook, to be sucked on the breasts. Watching those old men we didn't give a damn about during the day, sucking her pussy, licking her ass, sticking their dick up her ass as she rolled her ass, her young, smooth body, her big, dark-haired breasts filled me with an uncontrollable tease. Oh, how I masturbated on that school holiday, how I wanted to feel what she felt, how I envied her and hated her at the same time. How excited I was about my cousin's promiscuous life, every day I felt more corrupted and complicit in her actions, I felt part of that clandestine, obscene, sinful, dirty ritual. I could hear myself whispering: <unk>ah, now she's going to have fun, have fun, have fun slut, you bitch, go my bitch, I'm going to have fun with you<unk>. Or, then: <unk>go you old bastard, break into her ass, force your freak, eat her hard, punch harder, put more, ui, ta delicious, have fun in her mouth now that I want to see<unk>. And when they were doing what I wanted to watch, I got so horny, it was like I was directing the scene, participating in the act, I had wonderful orgasms, my whole body shivered, I was shivering with horny. Her room was next to mine, and after her sex, I could feel the morning sickness coming out of her, and I could see her smoking marijuana naked in her room, with her bottle smelling of male saliva, of dirty marmosets, and I wanted to come into her room, and hang up her skirt and suck on the old man's scraps, and suck on her wounded cock, and stick my tongue in her mocking mouth, and suck it all up into me. Would I have the courage to be like her?