Rural Long Island Romance: Forbidden Love in the 1960s

This story takes place in the 1960’s in rural Long Island, NY. It’s the story of two “relatives” who become a lot more than friends. NOTE: Some of the terms used would be politically incorrect today, but were appropriate then.

Paul is a popular student who gets all the pussy he can handle. He knows though that a much slower approach is needed with his naïve "cousin" Rose.

CHAPTER 1

It had been a long hard day made even longer and harder when my mower ran out of gas. Now I’d be late to the dance. There weren’t many at the nearby church so they were pretty special. I had rushed through my dinner, much to the annoyance of my mother, and ran upstairs into the shower. Five minutes later I was dressing in my navy blazer, a white button-down shirt, striped tie, and grey flannel slacks. A quick combing and my hair was as ready as it was going to be. I kissed Mom, waved to Dad, and was out the door to my truck. Twenty minutes later I was searching in vain for a parking spot. Finally, after another ten minutes I found one—across the street and a block away. I walked hurriedly back to the large brick building.

It appeared that I had arrived just in time. Rose was backed up against a wall as some bruiser who looked to be about ten years older was peering down her dress. I could see the terror in her eyes. Rose and I are the same age—eighteen—but she’s really naïve. She should be a junior like me, but she’s only a freshman. She’s not stupid, on the contrary. She was terribly sick for more than a year and a half when she was eight and nine so she missed two whole years of school. She’s better now, thank God. Now, all I have to do is rescue her.

I walked up with a huge smile on my face, stepping right between the gorilla and Rose. “Hi, hun…sorry I’m late.” I kissed her cheek as I took her hand. “C’mon, let’s dance.” I pulled her away before her erstwhile suitor could react. He may have been twice my size, but I’d bet I had twice the IQ. I wrapped my arms around Rose and pulled her close, wondering if she’d say anything about the proximity of our bodies—she did.

“Kind of close for cousins, Paul—wouldn’t you say?”

“Yeah, but…we’re actually not quite cousins.”

“What does that mean—not quite cousins?”

“Essentially, we’re not cousins. We’re not related. Care to have me explain?”

“Yes, I’m confused.” Confused was good. She hadn’t moved that luscious body with its big round breasts and that sweet firm ass away from the straining erection that was pointing down my left leg.

“Okay…let’s go back a few years. I’ve always called your mom ‘Aunt Celia’ and you’ve always called mine ‘Aunt Martha,’ okay, so far?” She nodded. “I call your dad ‘Uncle Carl’ and you call mine ‘Uncle Stan.” If we’re related how come we’ve never seen each other at family gatherings?
To be real cousins one of your parents and one of my parents would have to be siblings--you know, like brothers or sisters-- but you’re never at any of our family functions and I’ve never been to any of yours. I asked my mom about it last year.”

“Okay…so what did she say?”

“She said that she and your mom grew up next door to each other in Queens and were best friends all through school. They were so close that when they married and had kids it was natural to have them call each other aunt and uncle, especially when our dads got jobs at the Lab.”

“I don’t believe it.”

“Okay, how about a bet?” The music had stopped, but we were still dancing. I loved it. “If I’m right I’ll pick you up next Friday night at seven for a date—a movie and ice cream after.”

“And if I’m right?”

“I’ll pick you up at seven next Friday night, but not for a date. We’ll do whatever you want instead.” She leaned back a bit and held her hand out to shake. I kissed her cheek instead.

“Oh, thanks for the rescue. He was getting pretty obnoxious.”

“I noticed. It was the least I could do for my girlfriend.” She laughed then realized we were the only ones dancing and walked off the floor with me following closely behind.

I had always loved Rose, even back to when we were both six. That was when we moved into the same neighborhood—my family from Oak Ridge, Tennessee and theirs from Alamogordo, New Mexico. My dad and hers had taken jobs at the Brookhaven National Lab in nearby Upton out in rural Suffolk County, Long Island. It was a real reunion for our moms and the first time our families had met. Rose and I hit it off right away, especially because she was a real tomboy. She could actually pass, catch, and kick a football better than I could until I made it to junior high and was almost as good at baseball and basketball, too. By then she’d been sick and held back. I still saw her every day in school. Our small community had a K-8 school. In ninth grade we all went to Port Jefferson High about twenty miles away.

Back then it was a familial love—the kind one has for a brother or sister, or even a cousin--but over the years it had grown in a different direction. I’d kept it a secret for several years, but—no longer. As time passed we’d both grown into young adults. I was now 6 feet, 2 inches weighing an even 200 pounds. I played football—linebacker and fullback—and baseball—center field-- on the Port Jeff varsity until my lawn mowing business took precedence in the spring. I had a muscular build, my body developed by years of lifting weights and working out in our basement. I worked almost every day during the summer mowing lawns and doing yard work. I had twenty lawns that I mowed weekly at seven dollars each. Most of my clients rounded up to an even ten for a much appreciated tip. I earned between $150 and $200 a week which was pretty decent money at the time. I was saving for college even though I was hoping for some kind of scholarship.

Rose had also grown up…into a beautiful young woman. Rose stood 5 feet, 8 inches, and if I had to guess—maybe, 115 pounds. She had a gorgeous body, the kind that made my classmates drool. Only my threats of a severe beating had saved her from being pawed repeatedly. I knew she had never been on even a single date. Her illness had made her extremely shy and her parents were overly protective. She was fine with me, but most other guys terrified her. Rose had the kind of black hair that looked reddish under certain kinds of light. She wore it short, exposing her slender graceful neck. Rose had the most delightful brown eyes and a cute slender nose over full sensual lips.

We had a great time at the dance, probably dancing more than sixty percent of the fast ones and all the slow ones. I especially loved the slow ones. I thought that Rose had already figured out that we weren’t real cousins; she moved really close to my body. I was sure she could feel my thick erection, but she never pushed away. We left at eleven, driving to the local soda fountain where I treated to banana splits. Rose had hers with three flavors I wouldn’t ever consider. Me…I loved every flavor of ice cream so long as it was chocolate. We joined another couple from school and had a wonderful time. We left at 11:45 so I could get her home by midnight.

I parked the truck and walked her to the door. “Want to come in, Paul?”

“Thanks, Rose, but I have a really busy day tomorrow. Mr. Eaton is putting in a stone wall and I’m helping him. He promised me $50 for the day so I have to be ready to work. Good night, Rose. I had a great time.” I leaned in to kiss her cheek, but she turned her head at the last second. My lips touched hers briefly. It was like a bolt of lightning passed between us. She noticed it, too. Her eyes showed her shock. I waited until she was inside before driving the five blocks to our house.

Once in the house Rose walked into the living room to speak with her mother. Her dad always went to bed at eleven; her younger brother Eric was always in bed and sound asleep by ten. “Mom, can I ask you something?”

“Of course, Rose; how was the dance?”

“Oh, it was wonderful. Paul rescued me from some big guy who was getting nasty with me. He pretended he was my boyfriend. While we were dancing he told me that we weren’t really cousins. Is that true, Mom?”

“It is true that we are not related by blood, but Martha and I are closer than most sisters are. We might as well be related.”

“Okay…so…then…we’re not really cousins, are we?”

“No, even though you might as well be.”

“Then I should tell you that I have a date Friday night.”

“Oh? Who with?”

“With Paul, Mom; we had a bet and I lost, but I’m kind of glad. Does that make any sense?”

Her mom smiled then responded, “Yes, dear—it does. Now let’s go to bed, shall we?”

CHAPTER 2

My parents were both in bed when I got home so my usual inquisition took place at breakfast the following morning. I told them I’d had a wonderful time and that I had a date Friday night. “Do we know her, Paul,” my mother asked.

“Yes, Mom it’s with Rose.” I went on to tell about the bet. I could see my mother thinking as I spoke.

“I hope you plan to be a gentleman, Paul. I don’t want to see her hurt in any way.”

“Yes, Mom, you know I will and I’d never hurt Rose. You know I love her.” She did, but not in the way I meant. I excused myself and ran out the door, looking forward to a hard day’s work. Mom didn’t like me skipping church, but knew it was for a good reason.

I saw Rose Monday morning when I picked her up for the ride to school. It was better than waiting for the bus and a lot quicker, too. She seemed unusually happy this morning. She spilled the beans even before I had the chance to ask her. “We have a date, Paul. I can’t wait—a real date.” I reached across the bench seat to squeeze her hand. Next thing I knew she slid across to sit next to me. I could see how thrilled she was. I held her hand almost all the way to school—except when I needed two hands to drive and shift gears. I gave her a brief peck on the lips once we were at school.

Friday night I was at her door at 7:00 sharp. Aunt Celia answered the door. “My goodness, Paul—Rose has been looking forward to this all week. She’s been on cloud nine. I hope you have a good time.”

“I’m sure we will, Aunt Celia. We always enjoy each other’s company. I’ll have her home by twelve.”

“I think we can make it one, Paul. I don’t want to stand in the way of you two enjoying yourselves.” I heard a noise and turned to see Rose descending the staircase. She looked beautiful—even more than usual. I took her hand and led her out to my truck. My truck—it was a 1952-53 Ford. I got it at a junk yard. Most of the parts were from a ’52, but some, like the seats, the bed, and the transmission were from a 1953. They were basically the same and the price was great--$100!

We drove all the way to Port Jefferson Station, named, no doubt, for its proximity to the older town of Port Jefferson and

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THE END