Memoirs: Thou Shall Not Fuck Your Cousin

Here I am sitting in a chapel, anxiously waiting for her to march down that aisle and into the arms of the one she has chosen.

I wonder how she looks.

They say a bride looks the prettiest when she walks down that aisle because of the radiating happiness that comes from within her.

But we all know that's bullshit. That fucking look on her face is the look of satisfaction, the look of a woman who has got her vagina stuffed to her fill by her husband to be. That's the look of woman who has been liberated from her sexual deprivation; in a matter of minutes, she knows she can get dick action from her other half anytime she wants to. Regardless of how she fucking looks; even if her legs feels like cactus; or her cunt smells like the gutter behind a Chinese restaurant; or her armpit that she haven't attended to has chunks of talcum powder stuck on her curly armpit hair. Yeah, she's all set to go. Once they said their vows, her fucking husband is obligated to fuck her.

As you look to the altar, do take notice of the guy too; you might notice that he isn't as enthusiastic as the bride, because he is simply handing over his dick on a silver platter; when this ceremony is through, his penis is legally bound to a life of penis solitary.

The wedding march is playing, all heads turn and there she was looking like an angel. I am fucking sure that is what that is going through the minds of the many gathered here, but this rotten twisted brain of mine was thinking something else.

It was wondering how she is in bed? But then again it will never happen because she was my fucking cousin and I think there is an unsaid rule in our family that state:-


So I concentrate to the things above her neck and try very hard not to stare at her half exposed breast.

And a million thoughts races through my fucking skull…

That face, that smile is something that I’m going to hold dear for a fucking long time. Even though I have never been that close to her, most of our interactions are just courteous act by a well-mannered cousin; our banal conversations works better than a tranquilizer that could put an elephant into a coma. You may not have known this part of me but yes, underneath these foul-mouth chuckle head, there is a gentleman. If you don't believe me, get your sister or mother in something sexy and I guarantee you they will get an erecting even if they dressed up like a Skank ho, now if that isn't being well-mannered, then I don't know what is.

It was her that pulled me through all those painful yearly family reunion that I fucking downright detest attending straight to my very dark and rotten core. I 'm just going to be really honest with you; normally I would only be happy for someone when misfortune strikes because I take delight in another person's misery.

But this is an exception for me; it’s been so long since I am actually happy for another human being.

Let’s hope this one fucking last.