Nice Family Vacation Ch. 03

27 Ocak 2022 0 Yazar: admin

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Nice Family Vacation, Ch. 3

This story contains descriptions of close family members engaged in entirely inappropriate activities that some may find either disturbing or hot. If you find family members fantasizing about or taking liberties with each other or otherwise behaving in naughty ways, then you probably should stop reading right about…now.

All characters in this story are fictional and are eighteen years or older. Any resemblance to any real person, living, dead or under the age of eighteen, is in your own dirty little mind. Sadly, some of the events portrayed in this story are not based on true events. I wish.

If you are still reading and are not offended by SILF or BILF and believe siblings behaving in very naughty ways is hot, I hope you enjoy this story.

It was still hard for me to believe, several days into our family vacation to the French Riviera, the most beautiful sight I had seen on the famous Côte d’Azur was my sister. More specifically, her breasts. If I spent 100 years in strip clubs, I doubt I’d see tits more beautiful than hers. Carefully applied Coppertone kept the skin alabaster with nipples cherry pink surrounded by a wide band of pink fading into lighter shades the further from the delicious center.

In the rose-colored light of early morning, I lay on my stomach, which helped ease the growing ache of a monstrous case of blue balls. Alyssa’s perfect breasts caused that, too. After another day on a topless beach, my sister finally broke down and let me play with her titties, which was wonderful. Made out with me, too, which was about 100 times hotter than it should have been.

Then, I went for her panties, and that freaked her out. Alyssa wasn’t just a “good girl”, she was very conservative, brought up in a normal, upper-middle-class family. If anything, we were intellectual to the point of nerdiness. Now that she was 18, though, she had begun expressing her sexuality for the first time. How fortunate I was to be there to witness it with my own eyes!

Nothing was ever more worthy of a case of blue balls.

No problem. She caught me jerking off after seeing her topless on Nice Beach, and not only did she deal with it, it must have turned her on. I never in my wildest dreams expected to have sex with her, anyways. Heck, I never expected to see her boobs! So, a little pre-breakfast wank in the bathroom would be no problem.

I turned my head toward her bed, only to see her lovely emerald eyes staring at me. “Good morning!”

“What time it is?” My voice croaked, unable to sound nearly as cheerful as she did.

“6:30. I couldn’t sleep. How do you feel?”

“Does honesty count?”


“My balls hurt.” I started to explain blue balls to her, but she stopped me. “Boules azur on the Côte d’Azur.”

“Every one my boyfriends has complained about that, but I never really believed them. I thought it was just something you guys make up to get laid.”

“No, I can assure you, it is very real.”

“Want a Tylenol or something?”

“Only one thing makes it better.”

Cheerfully, she asked, “What’s that?”

“If you must know, it’s the same thing you caught me doing in the bathroom Tuesday.”

“Oh!” Her face turned crimson. “That works?”


“Good thing I’m not a guy; I’d have spent half my life with blue balls.”

Hmm. Intriguing as her comment was, now that she understood what I needed to do, no point in putting it off any longer, so I rolled out of bed, not even bothering to hide my morning wood bulging in my boxers.

Alyssa started laughing. “Does that happen every morning?”

“Pretty much.”

“I am so glad I’m not a guy!” She was giggling like crazy at my boner. “Well, go ahead and take care of it so we can go get breakfast. I don’t want to be seen in public with you in such a state!”

Slightly annoyed at her laughter, I said, “Since it’s your fault, the least you can do is offer a helping hand.”

Eyes widening, she asked, “Would that work?”

“It doesn’t matter whose hand it is. Might even be better if you did it.”

“Hmph!” She stared at my cock in my boxers. “I suppose it is my fault.”

Totally outside my control, my cock moved with a life of its own. “There’s a bottle of lotion in the bathroom. Might be fun to try it.”

“You’re a freak.”

“You enjoyed when I played with your boobs last night; think this will be any different?”

“That did feel nice. Is that what caused your…current condition?”

“Yes.” Perhaps an oversimplification, because I awakened in such a state, as she put it, probably 3 days out of 4 at home, alone, without playing with her tits.

“Okay. But only this once.”

One more handjob than I ever expected from my sister. France is a great country. “I’ll get the lotion. It will…”

“I can imagine what it will do,” she said, sitting up on her bed and propping pillows behind her. I handed her the lotion and sat down beside her. “Do you do it with your underwear on?”

“Oh.” Tossing my boxers onto my own sakarya escort bed a few feet away, I sat naked beside my sister with my rock-hard erection pointing at the ceiling. Her eyes bulged, making me wonder if seeing a hard-on was as rare for her as sitting naked on my sister’s bed was for me.

“I’m probably not very good at this.”

“Don’t worry–if you need any tips, I will let you know.” She’s going to be fucking amazing at this!

She rubbed a handful of freezing cold lotion over me, covering my dick like she covered her breasts with Coppertone at the beach. A slight sensation of disassociation hit, and it felt like a dream or watching a movie, although the feel of her hand on my cock felt very real.

Try as I might to act cool, the moment her fingers closed around me, I let out a deep sigh, well beyond my control. Her fingers were so tiny and thin and soft, and felt a million times better than my own hand.

“How’s this?”

“Uh-uh-uh,” is all that came out.

“Tell me what to do.”

“You’re doing it!” Her hand stroked slower than my own would have, but I was in no hurry. Our parents never came to get us before 8, so she could pump my rod for an hour and a half, for all I cared. And the French make some damn fine lotion! It smelled of Lavender and was remarkably smooth. I made a mental note to stick the bottle in my bag when we left. If nothing else, for the memories.

Inside the thin fabric of the pajama top she wore, her boobs were starting to sway with the rhythm she took, and that made for an incredible sight. I watched as long as I could, but when I could not take any more, I reached over and grabbed one. In my state, I grabbed it rougher than I had the night before, but she didn’t seem to enjoy it any less, her eyelids fluttering as I squeezed.

I tugged up her shirt to expose her boobs and kept pulling until she let go of my penis.

“Freak!” But, she lifted her hands to let me get her top off then immediately resumed stroking my rod.

I didn’t say anything because she had rendered me speechless. Her arm leaning across her to reach my cock pushed her boob in, pushing them together, and each stroke shook them subtly in the most enthralling sight I had ever seen. Well, her hand moving up and down on my cock may have been. Let’s call the visual impact even.

“Do you ever use both hands?”

“Mn-mm,” I groaned, imagining.

“Can I try using both hands? Is that okay?”

Giving her a side-glance, I nodded. “Better than okay.”

Holy hell! No one had ever given me a 2-handed hand-job, and it was off the charts! Her shoulder leaned against my shoulder now, her boobs bouncing, both arms pushing them together. Moving even slower now, one hand caressing each side, fingertips meeting in the center and rubbing right down the root, it felt better than sex.

Enticing boobs swaying with the motion, with her face inches from mine and her emerald eyes staring into mine, I could not control my impulse to shove my tongue into her mouth. Opening hers to mine, her tongue welcomed mine as I reached maximum sensory overload. Not long after we started kissing, I felt an orgasm coming on.

Without releasing our kiss, I rolled and knelt over her, straddling her above her on my knees. A massive sensation welled up inside me and I knew this was not going to be an ordinary orgasm. This felt like it came from every inch of my body and soul.

Gasping and moaning too much to continue kissing, I knelt on all fours over her body and brought my hips over her chest. I eased her hands over her right breast, which for some reason was my favorite, and she crinkled her nose and gave me a disgusted look. “Freak!”

“Please!” I begged her.

“You clean it up!” This was going to require a lot of cleanup. When she discovered rubbing the tip on her nipple felt good, that was all it took to send me over the edge. Half her nipple disappeared under the first gush. It seemed to surprise her. “Oh!”

“Oh!” I practically yelled.

“Is that good, baby?”

Where the hell that came from, I have no idea, but if I wasn’t already coming on her tit, hearing her call me “baby” would have done the trick. She was rubbing my pearly DNA around her nipple and I continued shooting more and more onto her. Hard as it was to keep my eyes open with this unprecedented level of pleasure coursing through and out of my body, I could not look away.

It felt like every nerve in my body was stimulated with unimaginable pleasure. Certainly more magic than any girl I dated had in their hands. A white drop trickled down the center of her boob like liquidy Coppertone, and that brought another couple of spurts out of me. Her skinny little fingers milked each drop out of me, squeezing hard like she was juicing a lemon. I had to brace my hands against the wall above her head to keep from collapsing on top of my sister.

That orgasm had so much power, it left me drained, and for a while I lay next to her trying to regain my breath and my sanity.

“Was escort sakarya that good?”

“Best thing I ever felt in my life.”


“Honesty counts, remember?”

She laughed, and there was that vanilla pudding shaking again, like I enjoyed so much at the beach, this time dripping with cream sauce. “Look at the mess you made! Go get a towel to clean me up!”

“Cleanup on aisle Cs.” She didn’t dispute the cup size as I wiped her breast clean with a washcloth and warm water, then carefully dried it with a towel. Throwing them aside, I lay on top of her and looked into her green eyes. “Best thing I ever felt.”

Then I kissed her, and we just lay there for quite a while making out. Like lovers. Finally, she put an end to it. “They’ll be here anytime. We need to get ready for breakfast.”

Oh, what a day this was shaping up to be! Sponging your own spunk off your sister’s breast is a fine way to start a day. I highly recommend it.

Our parents had set aside the day for museums. There were many to choose from, so in the morning we toured the Musee Franciscain, a history museum, and after a late lunch, the Matisse museum. We never noticed how we were acting like a couple, shoulders bumping against each other while we looked at the exhibits, gawking and giggling at the nude paintings.

What it felt like was the best date of my life. That may be slightly unfair to my girlfriends, because rarely did they launch a date with a handjob. Its too bad more women don’t know about that strategy.

We had dinner and wine at a lovely cafe overlooking the Mediterranean, and never once let slip any mention about our inappropriate activities. Our mood was contagious, though, and our parents were having a great time, as well.

Just before we left, Alyssa spilled red wine on her shirt. Wearing the conservative, preppy clothes she had on, it was hard to tell for sure, but it looked like it landed about where my jism had run down her breast 12 hours before. I grabbed a napkin and reached before I caught myself and handed it to her, and tried not to stare too much as she dabbed herself.

Our folks didn’t seem to catch my near-error. Mom asked, “Are you young people going out tonight?”

“I don’t know. Look at me! I need to change if we do.”

“Well, we’re probably going to call it a day,” our father said. “Let’s go back to the hotel together, then you can decide from there.”

Alyssa went into our room to change, and after giving her enough time, I excused myself to go to the bathroom. In the room, my sister was standing in her bra and panties holding up two tops. “Which do you like better?”

Quickly shutting the door so my parents would not see me talking to her while half-naked like that, I answered, “I like what you have on.”

“Cute. I’m talking about going out.”

“Where do you want to go?”

“Drinking, dancing. Maybe a moonlight walk along the shore.” I pointed to the cute green top in one hand that matched her eyes. “I knew you’d pick this one.”


“Because I can’t wear a bra with it–not with those little straps. Pervert!”

“Admit it–that’s the one you wanted to wear.”

“No it isn’t.”

“Admit it–it is!”

Alyssa is terribly ticklish, and she was backing away from me as if she could read my mind. I stalked her to a corner, where she half turned, elbows pulled in to her sides and doubled over to protect herself when I started tickling.

The lower portion of her stomach around her belly-button is where she is most ticklish, her weak spot which all of us in the family have attacked since she was a little girl, but that night she seemed even more sensitive than usual, squealing and trying to escape. She got far as the bed, then fell onto it, trying to roll onto her stomach to stop me, but I held her on her side and went in for the kill, right above the elastic of her panties.

Neither of us heard the door open, but we both heard it close. There stood our mother, glaring at her two children rolling around the bed, her daughter in sexy lingerie and her son on top with his hands all over her.

“What are you doing?”

Alyssa immediately stopped laughing and I stood, hoping my early-stage hard-on was not visible. “He was tickling me…”

“Better put some clothes on,” she sternly said. Alyssa held up a shirt on a hanger in front of her. “I don’t know what has gotten into you, but be thankful it was me who walked in here. If your father saw you like this, he would not tolerate such behavior.”

“Sorry,” I muttered. “It won’t happen again.”

“It better not. Now you get out of here while you sister gets dressed. And no more funny business–you hear me?”

“Yes,” we said simultaneously.

We went out and drank more wine and danced and walked along the rocky shore barefoot, the water lapping over our bare feet. Narrowly having dodged a bullet, we had obviously gone too far and agreed to behave for the rest of our vacation. It was a chilly night, and Alyssa’s nipples poking sakarya escort bayan against the green fabric were visible in the light of a full moon, as was the spring in her breasts with each step.

Before we went to bed, we hugged for a while standing up, and kissed a little, too, but without the insanity of the night before or that morning. Moonlight through our open window fell on Alyssa’s shoulder-length blond hair. I slept with wood in my pants that night.

The next day was a long-planned day trip to Monaco, the fairytale duchy ruled by Grace Kelly until her tragic death a couple of years before. Mom and Alyssa enjoyed it more than I did. The shopping was fantastic, I guess. Pops and I hiked up to where Grace Kelly’s car had plunged off the cliff, where a monument of flowers stood. Alyssa wore an Izod shirt over a firm bra and long white shorts with green and pink plaid, the most conservative thing she wore since we arrived. I got my passport stamped.

After lunch, Alyssa took me window-shopping while our parents did the same a half-block away.

“Oh, my gosh–you aren’t going to believe the conversation I just had with our mother.”

“About what?”

“Safe sex. She pulled me aside and asked have you and your brother been using condoms!”

“What did you say?”

“I told her the truth–we haven’t done anything we need a condom for, and pretended to be all offended, saying you were only tickling me.”

“I was only tickling you!”

“That’s what I told her! So she says we both know where that sort of thing will lead. And I say, Mom, he’s my brother!”

“Yikes! What did she say to that?”

“She says, and he’s also a handsome man and you are a beautiful young woman. Then she said something about forgetting that she was a sister who had a brother and knows all about how young people have all sorts of impure thoughts. Then she got all flustered and said, I just want you to be careful is all.”

“Wow! That must have been a super creepy conversation to have with our mother!”

“For sure! And it raised all sorts of questions I really don’t want to think about.”

I let out a low whistle. “You don’t suppose…”

“Well, everyone has always joked how much you look like Uncle Brad. And she did name you his middle name.”

“I really don’t want to think of Mom like that.”

“Well, we are doing the same thing.”

“Not quite the same. And Mom was married to Pop when I was conceived, so it’s different.”

“I suppose so.” Alyssa was deep in thought. “Do you remember when we were kids and Uncle Brad used to come visit so often?”

“He was always there.”

“I remember him coming to visit once while Pops was away on some business trip. Remember, she had some story about he was there to keep us safe?”

“Yeah, that was strange, even then.”

“And Mom said not to tell Pop that Uncle Brad stayed there because she didn’t want him to worry.”

“That was weird, too.”

“I think they were together, which is why she’s cool with us being together.” It was the first time she referred to us as being “together,” and until then, I had not really thought of it that way. “You can’t really blame her–Uncle Brad is a handsome man. You do look almost exactly like him.”

Feeling my ears burning and my face turning red, I said, “We should probably get back so we don’t make Mom worry about where we are and what we are doing.”

Not 10 minutes later, Mom led me off to see something or other and when we were off by ourselves, said to me, “We need to talk.”

“Okay,” I answered, worried that she was going to have the same sex talk with me she had with my sister.

“This is very awkward, so I will just get to the point. You and Alyssa need to be careful. In this day and age, you cannot be too safe.”


“I don’t know what they call them here in France, but I want you to buy some condoms. I am sure you can find them at a pharmacy.”

Good question, I had to admit, although I suppose they sell Trojans here. “Mom, Alyssa and I don’t need condoms.”

She repeated, “In this day and age, there is no such thing as being too safe.”

“Mom! I’m not going to give my sister VD! Even if we were doing that–which we aren’t–I’m pretty sure Alyssa does not have VD.”

“Well, with AIDS and all, you can’t be too careful.”

“Mom, neither of us has AIDS. And we were just goofing around, a tickle fight. That’s all it was.”

“That’s how it starts. Look, I’m not judging you. I’d rather have you consoling your sister after her boyfriend treated her so badly than have her give herself to some Frenchman she meets here. Some stranger. Same goes for you.”

“Don’t worry, Mom–the last thing either of us are interested is picking someone up at a bar while we’re here.”

“Good. Good. I’m not stupid. Mothers know things. When the two of you went to the beach the other day, I went down to check on you, and you weren’t there. I suppose you wanted to experiment with your freedom and went to a topless beach. When I was your age, I probably would have done the same thing. Just promise me you will be careful.”

Anxious for this painful conversation to be over, I promised to be careful and left it at that. The image running through my head of my mom sunbathing topless on the beach, however, may take some time to process fully.

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