Nice Family Vacation

Author’s Note: This story builds slowly, so if you are looking for some real action, the heating begins cranking up in chapter 2. And chapter 3. And chapter 4… So, let the naughtiness begin!

All characters engaging in any sexual activities are 18 years or older. This story is a work of fiction, and any similarity between any characters and any person, living or dead, is only in your dirty little mind!

I am not much of a shopper, which is a shame, because Nice’s streets are lined with shops of all sizes selling every kind of souvenir, designer clothes, Rolexes–you name it, they sell it. My sister Alyssa shops, so when she dragged me into a shop, it annoyed the hell out of me because each second spent shopping was another second I had to wait until my sister took her top off again.

I dreamed of her tits last night. In my dream, her breasts tasted like those pastries, delicious chocolaty chestnut hidden under pure white fondant topped with a large cherry circle of light pink. I sucked the pink cherries and the white cream coating, and the chocolate chestnut filling melted in my mouth. Hottest dream of my entire life!

This shop sold women’s clothing, while all I wanted was one particular woman without her clothing. An 18-year-old blonde American. She led me to the back, to a table covered with bikinis, one of which she held up a tiny one of green and gold fabric. Very little little fabric. At the waist, a little gold chain held the front and back pieces together.

“What do you think of this?”

“It’s…tiny.”

“The sizes are different here, I’m not sure which size to buy. Do you think this one is too small?”

“Too small as in too sexy, or too small as in…”

Glaring at me, she answered, “Too small. I’m not sure about the coverage.”

“The point obviously is not to cover much.”

“Maybe I should try it on for you.”

“Do they have one size larger?”

She held one up, slightly larger, perhaps large enough to cover the important bits. “That’s what I thought. I was afraid to try them on because I don’t know what the rules are here in France. They might make me buy it if I try it.”

She wore it to the beach under shorts. The slightly larger size. Seeing how little the larger one covered, I almost wish she had modeled the smaller one for me–that would have been some show!

If anything, her breasts were more mesmerizing the second time. The sunscreen did a wonderful job, her breasts still carved from white marble despite the sun two days before. Her nipples blushed perhaps a brighter pink, making me wonder if the sun may have kissed them a little too much. What does a sunburned nipple look like?

As she pulled the Coppertone from her bag, I asked, “Need any help applying that?”

For the briefest second, she hesitated, and I knew she almost answered differently. “That’s probably not a good idea. An interesting one, to be sure, but not a good one.”

“What’s the worst that could happen?”

“Same as the best that could happen, I guess; we might like it.”

“Might? Admit it–you’d love it.” She is not the only one who would love it. I tried to think of something to bring back the vanilla shake, but seeing her topless again rendered my brain basically non-functional.

“Want to hear something funny? If Daryl hadn’t dumped me, can you imagine me doing this? I’d feel like I was cheating on him if I went topless in front of God and everybody.”

“Thanks, Daryl,” I said, eliciting a slight milk shake. “We haven’t talked much about it. How are you doing with it?”

“Oh, you know. It sucks, yet at the same time I feel free for the first time since my sophomore year when we started dating.”

This way of celebrating her freedom was highly enjoyable. “Still miss him? Or are you over him?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I’ve moved into the anger phase, but how angry can I be in such a wonderful place having so much fun? Isn’t this place magical?”

“I’m having a great time.”

“So am I. Thought I would be missing Daryl and feeling miserable, but instead I’m having a great time and enjoying every minute of it.”

No one enjoyed her freedom to sunbathe topless more than me. “Well, good for you! Don’t let him drag you down.”

“You deserve some of the credit.”

“How?”

Lifting her towel off her face enough to peek out at me from under it, she said, “Haven’t you figured it out by now?”

I will admit to being to being totally clueless. “Tell me!”

“Without you here, this could have been pretty boring. Who knew you could be so fun to hang out with? It’s almost like having a boyfriend here without all the stress and drama.”

“Well, you can always feel free around me. In my experience, most of the time, dating isn’t nearly as fun as it should be.”

“This is fun, isn’t it?” She turned her head and lifted up the little handtowel covering the tender skin of her face to look at me. “The beach, I mean. More relaxing than the first time.”

Hell yes! Perhaps more relaxing, but not one tiny bit less entertaining. I played it cool, though and agreed. She pointed to the side, using the opposite arm across her body, which pushed up one boob magnificently. “There’s the diving board. I dare you to dive off.”

What she described as a diving board was not exactly my idea of a diving board. What it really was puzzled me, but a couple of kids jumped as we watched, falling about 20 feet to splash into the blue Mediterranean. Another followed, doing a flip. It looked scary as hell, but topless girls yield great powers, and the power topless sisters possess is virtually unlimited. “Sure. Are you going to come watch?”

Heads swiveled to watch her pass as we hiked down to the end of the beach. I can’t blame them, either, because Alyssa walks with a bounce in her step that is simply captivating when she’s topless. “Oh, remind me when we get back: I got a little sunburn on my back the other day, so I will need you to put sunscreen on me later.”

Not as fun as rubbing it on her front, but the thought stirred my loins, raising the question of how seriously can you be injured diving 20 feet with a boner?

Neither stairs nor ladder led to the diving platform, so I watched the kids shimmy up and followed suit. They were in their early teens and knew what they were doing, but somehow, I made it and looked down.

Twenty feet from the ground looked like fifty from up here.

Alyssa called up, encouraging me I could do it, then undid it all by yelling at me to be careful. The kids went first, and I made sure to follow their example when I jumped. From here, mine was going to be a jump, not a dive. In need of inspiration, I turned to look down at my sister.

In high school, she had been a cheerleader, and she cheered me on, clapping and bouncing with one of those cheerleader bounces. She always looked great in her cheerleader outfit, but now her upper arms pushed bare boobs together when she clapped, and bouncing made her, well, bounce. All alone up here, there was no need to hide my hard-on.

To prevent the impact with the water from breaking off wood, I turned and jumped before it fully resprouted. The Mediterranean rushed up at me, and I remembered to keep my feet together as I hit the water with a jolt, then heard only the muffled sounds underwater.

My jump impressed my sister and filled my veins with even more hormones and adrenaline than I carried up to the platform with me. For a moment, she must have forgotten, for she gave me a hug, bare breasts pressing firm, soft and wonderful against my skin. Only when I pulled her tight did she catch on and pull demurely away.

“You should try it! Or, are you scared?”

Alyssa glared at me. Long as I could remember, she loathed being accused of fear, of being afraid to try something I did. I survived, so it seemed safe enough, and I would never knowingly put my own sister at risk. She’s smart–she won’t screw it up.

Behind me, she scampered up to the platform and hid her fear, although I saw it in her eyes. The guys on the platform with us were about her are, and each checked out her boobs before jumping, one flashing a smile before he dove, flipping twice on the way down to impress her.

She stood beside me, our toes at the edge. Her grip on my hand felt like a vice. “Oh, shit.”

After I squeezed back, I smiled and started counting. 1. 2. On 3, she joined in, screaming it and leaping with me, free-falling as we proved Newton right and fell side-by-side despite me weighing half again more than her. Our bodies splashed together and the sound of muffled water replaced all other sound.

Bubbles swirled and boiled around her body, and her breasts floated in the clear Mediterranean water. We swam to shore, climbed to the platform and this time, each did a swan dive into the blue.

When we came to the surface, we celebrated our dives with a big, wet, squishy and carefree hug above 15′ of water, our legs intertwined and kicking in subconscious coordination as we treaded water together. That hug we held, laughing and celebrating and burning off the adrenaline of a 20′ dive, and when she kicked her right leg forward, it slipped between my kicking legs. Each time it bumped my crotch as my right leg rubbed against hers on every kick.

Our eyes met, her smile faded and we held each other with faces inches apart. Who knows who started it? I may have leaned first, or she may have, or even a little wave may have hit one of us in such a way that made it look like initiation. It neither mattered nor did we care. Once our lips met, everything pent up inside came out as one big, wet, messy and carefree kiss.

Our mouths opened to each other almost soon as our lips touched and our lips met fast and desperate. The passion and power of her kiss surprised me, as did the satiny smoothness of her tongue against mine. Like our legs working together to keep us afloat, our tongues moved with an instinctual rhythm neither of us knew existed until that kiss.

Two arms wrapped around my neck and one hand held the back of my head. My arms held her body, one around her waist, the other holding her back, pushing those perfect breasts into my chest. For a first kiss, it was epic and romantic and wild and, like all things epic and romantic and wild, it could not last long.

We were treating water, for chrissakes! A couple of minutes doing that and you are sucking wind, which interferes with your ability so suck your sibling’s tongue. So, after burning into our memories the hottest, wettest, most romantic kiss either of us will ever have, we swam to shore. And we climbed to the platform and dove several more times into the sea.

 

#

 

At dinner that night with our parents, Alyssa kept uncharacteristically quiet; I suspect I was, too. We told them about the diving because leftover adrenaline made us chatty, but we left out so much. The sexy bikini. Alyssa’s tits. That kiss and, afterward, massaging Coppertone into the skin of her back. Wood. They thought they knew how the story ended when, instead, all they knew was the inciting incident.

That night, in our room after our parents retired to theirs on the opposite side of the suite, we were quiet as a funeral. I can only speak for myself, but those same butterflies that flew around inside my stomach during my first date about five or six years before returned, and with a vengeance. I suspect she endured something similar.

On that first date, I took the girl home and went to mine. To the privacy of my own bed in my own room. Sure, I saw her at school afterward, but while on the date we had our escapes. It was weird enough sharing a hotel room with my adult sister, but after an illicit intimacy, a wet kiss neither of us planned, an escape route would have been nice.

Alyssa broke the ice. “Okay, are going to talk about it? Or should we ignore it and hope it goes away?”

“Hope what goes away?”

“Hormones. Because that is all it was, our bodies full of way too much hormones for our own good.”

“Is that all it was?”

“Look, I admit showing you my boobies was fun. I hope for both of us…”

“Oh, I sure enjoyed it.”

“Good. It was pretty obvious my boobies have an effect on your hormones,” she looked down at my pants, which were not bulging then. “It excited me, too, and it makes me feel great that you like them so much. And you aren’t going to see your girlfriend for a while, so you probably had hormones up to your eyeballs already, if you are like most guys.”

“As for me, since I broke up Craig, I really haven’t wanted anything to do with guys. You are the first guy I have spent any time with in a while, and you aren’t ‘a guy’, you are my brother.”

“I’m not a guy?”

“Well, until this week, I never really thought of you as one. You are in a different category, and sometimes I forget you are as much a guy as anyone.”

Confused as hell by then, I asked, “What are you getting at?”

“Well, guy, what are you thinking about, Mr. He-Man?”

“I wonder if that was a mistake, a one-time blowing off steam in a moment of weakness or…”

“Or what?”

“A beginning.”

“Funny, you took the words out of my mouth.” I didn’t want the words from her mouth. In fact, I wanted to put something else in her mouth, and I had a few good options in mind. “Tell you what; I’m going into the bathroom right over there, and when I return, let’s decide which it was.”

I probably don’t need to tell you; I did not need to think about it. What I wanted was to find out if her nipples are as delicious as those naughty titty pastries, but if she didn’t want me to taste them, I steeled myself to accept the disappointment. I did bring a bottle of wine and two glasses back with me, and had both glasses poured while she got ready for bed.

Alyssa didn’t need to say a word when she returned. I tell you, she has some serious style. Emerging from the bathroom wearing a pink camisole and matching panties, she made her intentions absolutely clear.

Those panties were by no means revealing, certainly not like that green and gold thong thing she wore to the beach that day, but looked amazing nonetheless.

Slowly looking her body over from her legs to her eyes and back, when I finally returned to her eyes, I asked, “A beginning?”

“It’s what you want, isn’t it?”

I handed her a glass. “Exactly what I want.”

“I have one rule.” She held up one finger for emphasis. “You can’t fuck me.”

“No fucking–got it.”

“Are you cool with that?”

Hell, another kiss, even one as brief and hot as the one in the water, and I’d be a happy man. Fucking is nice, but her one rule left many other fun options wide open. “Totally cool.”

Apparently, she felt an explanation of her rule necessary. “First of all, we can’t fuck.”

“Sure, because I am your brother and all…”

“Exactly. To me, fucking is unemotional, fun but impersonal. If we decide to do it, I don’t want impersonal. Not from you.”

If we decide to do it???? So, fucking is off the table as a general category. Just call it something different then.

“Fucking versus making love.”

Her emerald eyes lit up. “Exactly! Second, our parents are right there. I don’t want them waking up hearing you moaning my name. Third–and this is probably the most important–I’m not giving up my first time just because I had a really incredible, romantic kiss. Even if it was my brother kissing me.”

“Wait–your first time?”

“Right. Before I give away the gift a woman can only give once, the guy is going to earn it. No matter who I decide to give it to.”

This revelation that Alyssa was a virgin gave me a warm feeling. Sister are supposed to be virginal, right? No one wants to imagine their sister being humped by dudes. Besides, we still had a week and a half in France–plenty of time to try to earn it, right? No need to rush.

“I accept your terms.” Her body shook as I took her wine glass from her and stood so close the front of my body bumped lightly against hers.

Her breath tickled my lips. “We’re really doing this?”

“We are.”

Our first kiss sweet and soft, her lips like a flower petal. That only lasted seconds as our bodies came together, our arms enveloped and our mouths opened. The instant our tongues touched, we were in warm, blue water way over our heads.

Smoldering fires can explode into an inferno in an instant, and we had been smoldering since she pulled that sky blue tee-shirt off and showed the perfection of her breasts to me. Heck, it started on the plane, although probably innocently enough, then. Suddenly, we were all tongues and hands and boobs grinding against my chest.

I was so damn hard and she was so damn hot. Fully intending to honor her one rule, I was already out of control and only hoped she remembered her rule and reminded me because, in fact, there was no hurry.

We landed on the bed hard enough for it to squeak, with her on top of me and our tongues somehow still attached. Damn, she’s a good kisser! They say virgins kiss better because they need to, but it may have been simply because the fire in her burned hot as the inferno in me.

Breasts cushioned her body on mine and my hands caressed her bottom. The sheer power of her kiss almost distracted me from her ass. Almost. Alyssa’s butt is so damn sweet. Firm and smooth, too. And her tongue cast a spell upon my soul. Between us, my cock sprang to life, and for a minute, fear swept through her body. I felt it. Muscles tensed and she pulled her lips away.

“I’m sorry; it seems to have a mind of its own.”

“No, that’s totally okay.” Tucking hair behind her ear, she laughed. “Funny, it’s hard pushing aside a lifetime of being your sister is all. Did I just say hard?”

“Sure did.”

“I should shut up now.”

“Good idea.” I pulled her lips to mine and for the longest time savored the most delicious kiss a man can imagine. Her tongue soft and firm, a feather and a knife. My kiss had the same intensity, at least I hoped so. Passion filled me, so powerful I wondered if controlling it was possible.

At some point my hands were inside her panties, fingertips inside the crack. Long had I imagined how she felt, yet in my hands I realized my imagination was insufficient for the reality of touching her this way.

I could have kissed her all night. Should have, probably, and we both might have been satisfied. It was not to be, though. Had it only been a couple of trips to the beach looking at my sister’s tits, well, making out and feeling her sweet ass might have been enough. Truth be told, I’d held back my attraction to her for much longer than that. And, I suppose from the way she kissed me, it unleashed passion pent up inside her for quite some time.

Alyssa squealed and giggled when I rolled on top of her, and her boobs inside that tight camisole shook. Two delightful nipples poked against the fabric, and I suppose it might have been the most amazing sight I ever saw if not for two topless days at the beach.

“You are an amazing kisser,” I took in a deep breath.

“Not boring like the old saying?”

“Whoever came up with that saying was unlucky to have a sister who did not kiss like you.”

“Why are you stopping, then?”

Darn good question. This time, I was on top and in control, and she followed my kiss the way I followed hers. Like dancing, only infinitely more pleasurable. It surprised me that my hands caressing and squeezing her bum didn’t make her stop, but I had an inkling something else might, so before she did come to her senses, I needed to do it.

Her left breast filled my hand. My hands are pretty big, but it was full, and her breast felt wonderful! Maybe a couple of seconds and she’d start giggling or get skeezed out by the fact that I was feeling her boob. At least, that is what I expected. What I didn’t expect was for her tongue to respond that was it did. Or her moan while her kisses increased in their passion.

I moaned, too. After watching these beautiful, firm, perfect breasts at the beach, feeling one was a dream come true. I didn’t squeeze hard, not at first. More caressed it, savoring the delicate balance of firmness and soft, pliable flesh. The perfect size, feeling even larger in my hand than I imagined while watching her this week. Gradually increasing in intensity, I softly began squeezing her, pressing soft flesh against her ribs.