Rubbin' Cousin

Casey struts into her living room, guiding her second cousin Seth who's lugging a laptop, right to the table. She flashes him a grateful grin. 'Thanks again for bailing me out, man. Running my business from home rocks, but damn, I'm slacking on the paperwork.' Seth chuckles, setting the laptop down. 'Hey, family's family. I'll whip this mess into shape—it's my day job.' She teases, eyes sparkling, 'What would we do without accountants? Or hot second cousins?' He gets serious for a sec. 'You really need one as a small biz owner.' Casey shrugs, owning it. 'Yeah, business blew up lately, so I'm scrambling to catch up now.' She nods at the table. 'Park it. Tea? Coffee?' He waves it off. 'Nah, let's dive in.' Laptop hits the wood with a thud—he's all business. She slips away while he waits. Back she comes, hauling a box that hits the table like a bomb. Seth's face drops when she dumps it—bills and receipts avalanche everywhere, a total disaster. 'You didn't say it was this bad!' He throws his hands up, jaw on the floor, bouncing looks between the chaos and her. Casey's all innocent eyes, biting her lip. 'Told ya, just a little behind...' He snorts. 'Little? If you were a client, I'd bill you for overtime.' She pouts, sorry as hell, staring at the pile. Then her face lights up like a devilish idea. 'How about I make it up to you with a massage?' Seth shifts, uneasy—they're blood, after all. But she pushes, cocky grin in place. 'You crunch numbers, I rub you down. Strictly pro.' He wavers, almost in, then eyes her sharp. 'Wait, isn't your thing... that Nuru massage?' She nods, straight up. 'Yup, Nuru's my jam—slippery, a tad wild, but not sexual. Especially not with family, duh.' Seth's gaze drifts as she yaps on about the gel and the routine, her hips swaying in ways that scream sex even if she doesn't mean it. He catches himself ogling, snaps back to her face just as she swears it's all chill—no funny business. 'Bet you're beat from staring at that calculator all day. Or whatever number nerds do. This'll melt your stress.' He caves, half-grinning. 'Fine, but it'll take more than a rubdown to square us.' She laughs, tossing her hair—unaware how that lands loaded. 'Oh, it'll be worth it. Do you first? Gets you focused for the paperwork.' They both eyeball the mess. He nods. She's beaming. 'Shower time—gotta get squeaky clean!' Seth strips, hops in the shower, but freezes when Casey peels off her clothes and joins him, bold as brass. She's pink-cheeked, half annoyed. 'You weren't listening? Gel needs us spotless!' He stammers. 'Whoa, that's... surprising. But hey, not that uncomfortable. Jump in.' She does, soaping him up thorough—hands gliding over every inch. It's revving him hard, but he plays it cool, biting back groans. Casey's flushed too, fingers lingering on his chest, that firm ass. Damn, he's hotter than she remembered. Her eyes flick to his cock—thick, heavy, way more than she'd guessed. Heat pools low in her gut. She spins, arching her back. 'Wash mine? Can't reach.' It's legit, but hell, she wants his hands on her. He hesitates, then dives in, tentative at first. Soap slicks everywhere; soon he's roaming, bold. Hands cup her tits, squeezing—Casey moans loud, raw, shocking them both. They spring apart, all awkward heat. 'Shit, sorry,' he mutters, red-faced. 'Dunno what came over me.' She waves it off, breathy. 'Happens. Instinct, y'know? Keep going.' He does, rubbing deeper. Tension crackles like lightning—too hot to ignore. Casey pulls back, flustered. 'Massage time. We're clean enough.' Out of the shower, she leads him to the parlor, air thick with steam and promise. He smirks at the setup—mattress, gels, the works. 'Lay down.' He does, stretching out. 'Gotta say, your job's the wildest in the family.' She starts the full-body glide, bodies slick and sliding. He's hooked now, tension gone, grinning lazy. She shoots him sultry looks, shyness burned off—pure animal heat taking the wheel. Casey's mouth finds his cock, sucking deep, teasing till he's rock-hard and throbbing. She climbs on, sinking down slow, riding him fierce—hips grinding, breaths ragged. They chase the peak together, exploding in a sweaty, gasping climax. As they catch their breath, she pants, 'Maybe I should hire you as my personal accountant. Keep this gig going forever.'