Destination Disaster

 detested everything about my step cousin Hayley, from her overuse of teenage slang -- "Hey, dude" and "shizzle dizzle" -- to her constant bitching and utter disregard for the feelings and needs of others. At restaurants, she could order the most expensive item on the menu without hesitation then leave half the food on her plate. She was, in a word, insufferable.

Just when it seemed as if she had reached the limits of being tone deaf to the world around her, she scaled new heights. Dude, I just wanted her to shut up and mind some manners.

I welcomed the marriage that brought her into my life. My stepbrother and his new wife made the best company. I relished the times when we could see each other without the presence of that now 18-year-old baggage. I wanted nothing more than for Hayley to go away. A few others in the family wanted it, too, and filled any moments of silence with sharp derision when she was not around.

As appearances go, she was beyond cute. If only her wits and attitude could match her gorgeous face and figure and captivating smile. Her slender legs jetted perfectly from her curvy thighs and blessed posterior. Her long black hair sometimes fell into her royal blue eyes. Her tanned manila skin never clashed with any of her outfits. She did have style. I guess I could always pay her that compliment.

Everything else about her was vomit-inducing. Even in her most attractive moments, her haughtiness overrode the allure of her physical features. The one exception had been my stepbrother's wedding day when she wore a long red dress and black stilettos. I can remember asking her to dance at the reception because a family member said I should.

Feelings of arousal may have materialized that afternoon, but I could not have named them until 17 months later.

My hands drifted down her back to the area just above her butt during this excruciatingly slow, slow dance. She did allow one smile that I remember distinctly. This seems like the right time to introduce the other important part of this unlikely story of seduction: She also hated my guts. At least I assumed she did, given that she responded to most of my questions with shrugs or mono-syllabic answers. "Huh?" "No." My favorite: "What?" Sometimes her responses sounded more like grunts and mouth noises than words.

Maybe she never hated me. How could I tell? I can say for sure that she never offered any indication that she felt any attraction to me. I do not think I did.

She once flipped me off when I suggested she was talking too much. Another time, she made a disgusted face when I sat next to her on a couch. I responded in kind.

Appearances can deceive. History can reverse itself. This loathe-loathe relationship forever turned two years ago during a family vacation in Destin. A week from hell -- complete with screaming and indecision -- shifted from eerie to electric and from egregious to erotic.

We abandoned a squalid vacation home in favor of a high-rise hotel with a resort-sized swimming pool and within walking distance of a popular beach. A sojourn that began with bad pizza and wrong turn after wrong turn trying to find the aforementioned shack of shit changed everything I knew about myself within 72 hours.

The day of the deed began with no clues of how it would end.

We ate a non-descript breakfast at the adjacent Denny's. Grand Slam my ass. This rendition tasted like a groundout with no men on base. Hayley commenced her complaining with some pathetic spiel about her curling iron malfunctioning. Who cares? She did, to the point of making us all nauseous.

We ventured from there to a beach ware store to buy a new beach mat and a swimsuit for me. To this point, nothing on this vacation had been memorable in a positive way.

That changed when we opted for a parasailing excursion.

Roller coasters activate the worst kind of motion sickness within me. I want to throw up just looking at one. Imagine, then, how I felt at first about being hoisted into the clouds from a small boat on something that looks like a fucking kite with a crossbar rammed in the middle. That wire -- looked more like yarn, to me -- was supposed to hold my weight and keep me secure while I dangled in the sky? I was tempted to ask if the coming ordeal was a practical joke.

Funny how misguided perceptions can get in the way of joyful recreational activities. Eric, the kill-everyone-with-kindness man in charge of strapping me in and cranking the pulley system, put me at ease, so much so that I didn't flinch or curse under my breath when he instructed you know who to join me.

"We need to add a little more weight," he said, and that was a new one for me. I didn't mind the unintentional compliment.

"Like this?" Hayley asked, looking for validation that she had indeed understood the instructions. Part of me felt an urge to start a slow clap. Congratulations, brat. You kinda formed a complete thought and didn't exude pretense like a Kardashian sister when doing it.

Her sunscreen-drenched face could have been an electricity conductor given the sun's desire that morning for extreme illumination. I glanced at the black shorts and white tank top covering her bikini, not comprehending that I had checked her out just then. Oops.

She didn't seem to notice me until Eric had sent us crawling backwards toward the baby blue sky. The tranquil nature of our ascent surprised me. There was nothing terrifying or scream-worthy about this ride to the top. The wind massaged my face. The clouds beckoned me.

When we reached our parking place, with breathtaking views of beaches and the city available from every angle, we did something unfathomable. We had a conversation, and it wasn't filled with spite or venom.

"You like it up here?" she asked, and this was one of the first times I noticed how sweet her voice could sound when she made the effort.

"I don't like it," I said. "I love it. I feel like I'm floating above the Earth. I'm almost flying."

"Yeah, this is great," she replied. "Really awesome."

"This vacation has kinda sucked," I interjected, "but I would do this again in a heartbeat."

Next, I did something unthinkable. I said I enjoyed being up there with her. I wasn't tolerating her company; I appreciated it.

"Yeah, me too," she responded, in the biggest shock of all.

For 10 strange minutes, we didn't want to strangle each other. Blame it on the breeze. Blame it on the view. Whatever.

Instinct took over, and I reached over for her hand. She allowed me to cup it. I allowed a smile to escape and venture to her whereabouts. She let out a slight giggle then smiled back.

What the hell?

All good things, they say, must end. This excursion did faster than I could bear. The sky provided a respite from the grim reality that I had to spend four more days with this family on this vacation to Hades. Nothing against Destin, but the perpetrators most responsible for the miserable atmosphere could fuck up a week in Paris, New York or the Bahamas. Yeah. That bad.

Later that afternoon, we hit up a crowded beach. Hayley, of course, could not take off her top and shorts fast enough before running to immerse herself in the ocean. It was both annoying and endearing. She had returned to ignoring me. The universe was back in order.

I decided to run into the water, too, hoping it might wash away more of the suck from this trip. I mean, really, did two adults have to start a shouting match at 5 a.m. about the broken garbage disposal? Nobody won. The yelling was equitable.

The waves were a welcome distraction. I became so zoned out, in fact, that I didn't notice a big one heading my way. It enveloped me and sent me flying back toward the beach. Hayley, sent airborne by her own oblivion, fell on top of me. Of course she did. I'm surprised no ribs cracked.

She coughed twice and sent saltwater right at my nose and mouth. Yuck, I thought. That's a lie. I didn't hate it at all. Her bated breath warmed and cooled my soaked face all at once. Just when it looked like she might deliver another smile, she used her right hand to push me backward.

"Ew," she said. "Go away."

"Fine," I snapped back. "The faster you get off me, the better."

The appearance of sexual tension, however brief, was undeniable. I caught myself daydreaming for a few seconds that I had unclasped the top part of her bikini and was about to fondle her breasts.

Gross! No way! I re-joined reality and had no difficulty mustering up disgust. I couldn't shake the feeling, though, that she did not detest me, especially during our beach encounter, as much as her words seemed to suggest. Our bodies had spoken twice that day, and I wasn't sure I was ready for their message.

That didn't matter. A sea change was coming, no matter how much I denied it. Ready? Not close.

Our dinner at a swanky seafood eatery was another self-centered showcase for Hayley. She began by dominating the initial conversation.

"So, my phone couldn't find an Internet signal like 30 minutes ago, and I was like so freaked out," she fussed. "And I stubbed my toe in the bathroom. Like, oh my God, that was painful. Dude, I'm serious."

Then, she ordered the $45 stone crab special. More yelling. Awesome. None of the embarrassing outbursts that followed seemed to phase her. If they did, her acting was superb.

Her outfit, though, boosted my tolerance level. She wore an irresistibly cute silk pink halter top with a short black skirt and short stilettos. Her wardrobe was more sophisticated tonight than her blabbering.

I couldn't help myself, stealing glance after glance, especially at her now perfectly curated legs. One of those quick looks yielded the commencement of something far scarier than a roller coaster. Did I just get an erection?

Oh my God, no! Fuck! I'm screwed now! What is wrong with me?

I told myself that five-second-or-so boner had been a figment of my imagination. I wasn't very convincing. After that incident, which thankfully no one noticed, I needed dinner to end pronto. I would have abandoned the last few bites of my divine tuna steak cooked in soy butter if given an opening to bolt. I could not remember ever wanting to be in a place less than I did then.

Our departure from the restaurant was a temporary gift. I stopped to tie my left shoe and didn't notice that Hayley was also far behind the group. While everyone else had boarded an elevator to retire for the night, I was stuck with this bimbo bitch. Adding to the problem: The two of us were staying on a different, higher floor. We were separated from the rest.

We spent the entire time in the elevator standing in sepulchral silence, refusing to speak or even glance at the other person. Hayley twitched once, and I blinked and cleared my throat. The A/C was not working in the elevator, either, which made the slow ride all the more uncomfortable.

She still looked so precocious and full of late teenage ignorance, even in her stunning evening attire. I was both disgusted and delighted by the sight of an 18 year old who still saw the world as a place created to serve her. The little princess could be so fucking insufferable. Would she ever get a clue that the needs and desires of others mattered?

The next event suggested the answer was an emphatic no. The elevator stopped at four, even though we were supposed to get off at five.

"You pressed the wrong button again," Hayley sneered.

"Sorry," I replied, with more than a hint of sarcasm.

Then, when the doors would not close quickly enough for her liking, she began attacking the fifth floor button with her right index finger. She pressed it at least 20 times in six seconds, a potential record that Guinness folks should have been there to certify.

"Relax, we'll get there," I said in as re-assuring a tone as possible.

"Shut up. I don't care. Ugh."

We finally disembarked the elevator and walked down the hall to our adjacent rooms. Thank goodness the rest of the family was staying two floors below. The tension between us was loud.

She pulled out her key and hastily opened her door.

"Good night," I managed.

She answered with a grunt or something similar. I could not decipher any real language in her response. What a brat. I knew I wasn't the only person on the trip raring to teach her a lesson. I was, however, the person closest enough to do it.

I sighed then opened my door. I hung up my sports coat, changed into boxer shorts and a solid color T-shirt then brushed my teeth in preparation for some needed shut eye. I heard a click and thought I also heard the sound of a door open and shut. I didn't think anything of it at first. These things happen every five minutes at hotels, even after 11 p.m. on a Saturday. Sure they do.

Before climbing into bed, I decided to make sure the door between our rooms was locked, so she wouldn't disturb me. That was a lie. It wasn't locked, which explained the noise a few minutes earlier. I cracked it just enough to hear the sound of running water.

I peered in a bit more to see her clothes from the day sprawled all over the bed. The bathroom door was shut. Not long after I sought to peep, the water stopped and the door swung open. What girl ever showers that quickly, in less than four minutes?

I frantically tried to close the door without being noticed, but it made a creaking noise just before it shut.

"Shit," I muttered under my breath.

I didn't bother locking it and pulled down the comforter and the top sheet and climbed into bed. I reached for the lamp and turned it to the lowest setting possible. Who does that? What was I doing or thinking? Why not just turn off the bleeping lamp and lock the door?

I closed my eyes and took less than a minute to fall asleep. My state of rest did not last long, maybe a whole two minutes. A familiar creaking sound awoke me from my slumber.

"What do you want?" I asked, knowing that Hayley was standing over me. I was too groggy to understand the gravity of the circumstances at first.

"No, what do you want?" she replied. She sounded like a bad actress in a phone sex commercial. It was forced, but it was also somehow cute, just like her.

Moments later, I felt a half-ticklish, half-soothing sensation in my lower body. That's when it hit me.

Hayley was sitting on my bed, naked and wrapped in a towel, undoing the button on my boxer shorts to play with my junk.

"Just what do you think you are doing?" I asked in mock outrage. We both knew there was no way I would stop her.

"I'm giving you what you want."

"Huh?"

"I know you want me."

"Hayley, st-st-stop!"

"Make me."

"You are such a bitch. You know that."

That last statement didn't seem to make her mad at all. Instead, she giggled.

By now, she had my expanding penis in her right hand and was beginning to massage it. I couldn't help but let out an obligatory groan. She was pretty good at this, better than I expected. When she pulled down and removed my boxers, I offered little resistance. She knelt down and put her precious face close to my bare, throbbing cock. She blew on it once then went from giggling to cackling.

"Dude, I bet you want me to suck on this, right?"

I half nodded, half shook my head.

"Why are you naked, Hayley? Don't you want to put on some pajamas first?"

"Don't be stupid, like, seriously. You know why I'm naked. I saw you spying on me a few minutes ago."

"Hey, you left your door open. What was I supposed to do?"

"You wanted me to spy."

"Maybe," she offered with a shrug.

When the stupor faded, I realized I was too late to change the course of events about to unfold. I knew deep down I had no interest in changing them.

With every semi-smile and sassy line Hayley delivered, my dick seemed to grow an inch. It felt like an homage to Pinocchio, without the hypocrisy or a wooden object trying to become a real boy.

"You ready?" she asked.

"For what?"

Hayley threw off her towel, revealing her small but supple breasts and flatter-than-a-cookie-sheet chest. I caught a glimpse of her shaved vagina. In what seemed like 15 seconds, she had gone from stroking my cock with a towel on to pulling the bottom sheet over her butt while she positioned herself on top of me.

I felt a sharp thrust and realized she was using her right hand to put my massive dick into her pussy. After a few tries, she managed to hop on and find her bearings.

She grabbed my right hand and pulled herself down. The moment her mouth reached mine, we engaged in a passionate kiss. She was the first to introduce her tongue into the equation. I responded by inserting my own into her mouth.

There we were, less than an hour after the awkward elevator scene seemed to portend a relationship turning hateful, locked in the missionary position, kissing one another. I pressed both hands against her back to stead myself and to suppress some of the exhilaration.

"Oh yeah dude," she managed.

I grunted in response. How sexy.

My cock slipped in and out of my step-cousin's vagina like a needle threading a quilt. We continued to French kiss and hang onto one another's exposed, soft skin.

I had to restrain myself to avoid cumming early. "You will pay for this," I said under my breath.

"I'm counting on it," she replied.

I couldn't tell who was enjoying this borderline angry sex more. The heavy breathing suggested the buy in was as mutual as a joint bank account. Thrust after thrust, the pleasure increased.

After a few minutes, I just couldn't take it anymore and allowed myself to cum. She let out an almost violent yet still sweet scream as I emptied my load into her moist vagina.

When I finished, we met again for another wild kiss. She dismounted me, wrapped her legs around mine and scrunched up in the snuggle position.

As much as I hated Hayley's selfish ways and her bitchy attitude, I really cared about her. I caressed her neck and ears with my lips, and she moaned in approval.

"You really care about me don't you, Robee?"

"Yes," I said in resignation.

"Tell me I'm attractive, Robee."

The request startled me a bit.

"Huh?"

"Am I attractive?"

"Yes, of course."

"I'm not so sure."

I protested.

"Hayley, you are such a beautiful young woman. How can you say that?"

My lips found her left breast and caressed it. I licked her right nipple then kissed it. She moaned again. I used the index and middle fingers on my right hand to tickle her curves. I moved from her still damp hair to her tits to her stomach to her butt.

We laid there in silence for a few minutes before she spoke up again.

"I feel safe with you."

"You are, Hayley."

I kissed her on the lips again and once more our tongues danced in one another's mouths. I delivered one last loving peck to the back of her neck, kissed every finger on both hands, then reached for the lamp.

I could have demanded that she go back to her room to sleep, and she would have obliged. Instead, I wanted to snuggle with her, to be that safety blanket it had become clear she so desperately needed.

My eyes fluttered open at the first sign of light. I glanced over at the alarm clock. It read 6:45 a.m. I then glanced to my left at the naked, sleeping beauty nestled next to me. I balanced duel reactions of horror and satisfaction.

Even if she was not related to me by blood, we had still done the deed. I had emptied my sperm into her ovaries. I made her squeal. She made me cum. We kissed. We snuggled.

It was so fantastic, yet so frightening.

There was no turning back now, no way out for either of us. We didn't despise each other anymore. I began to realize our relationship might develop into something worse than that.

No turning back, no regrets.