Nice Family Vacation, Ch. 1
Author's Note: This story builds slowly, so if you are looking for some real action, we have that for you in chapter 2. And chapter 3. And chapter 4... So, hold tight and enjoy this prelude to the real naughtiness.
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!
The jet engines thundered to life and thrust the plane forward down the runway.
My parents decided to take the whole family to France for 2 weeks that summer, back in the 80s, when I was in college. There were 4 of us: Mom and Pop, my sister Alyssa and me. Our parents were sitting behind us so we all had window seats or the one next to it. I decided to be nice to my kid sister by giving her the window seat to enjoy the view.
Alyssa was crying before the plane's nose started to rise. She tried to hide it, quietly and not saying anything, but she turned around when I said something about being on our way and her eyes were red and cheeks wet. Instinctively, I knew she was not still upset about her messy breakup with the guy she dated all the way through high school. I took her hand, and she squeezed back.
"Are you afraid of flying?"
"Don't say anything!"
"Why didn't you tell us?"
"Everyone was so excited about this trip, I was afraid to say anything."
To comfort her, I squeezed her hand back. "Well, we are flying now. Maybe we can get you some alcohol to calm you down."
"They don't serve you unless you are 21. I checked. Until we get to France, they won't serve 18-year-olds."
"Are there any drinking ages in France?"
"I don't think so," she answered.
"Well, until we get there, I will sneak you some." The flight attendant checked my ID—in this case, my passport—and still looked at me like it was a fake driver's license at a bar. No one in my family looked their age, and she obviously did not believe I could legally drink.
She was impressed with how well I held my liquor, though. As the flight went on, I kept asking for more of those little mini-bottles. Alyssa was drinking Coke, so I kept ordering rum. In order to avoid suspicion, both our cups were on the tray in front of me; Alyssa kept hers folded up, making it easy to pour into her drink without anyone paying attention.
It worked, too. First, she relaxed. Then, she got sleepy. By the time they served dinner and dimmed the lights, she was leaning on her pillow against the window.
"Sleepy?"
"Yes, but this is so uncomfortable!" She pounded the pillow, trying to fluff it.
"Here," I said, raising the center armrest. Lean this way. My shoulder's more comfortable than that wall."
Impressed that I knew about the armrest, discovered while flying back and forth to college, she rested her pillow against my shoulder and the edge of my chair and leaned over. Alyssa was tiny at 5'2" and thin, so her weight didn't bother me and her head did not get in the way. In seconds, she was asleep.
"She isn't keeping you company?" The flight attendant asked in a flirty way. "Would you like some more rum, or perhaps a blanket for your girlfriend?"
"Sure, both will be great, thanks. But, she isn't..." I stopped, realizing she paid me quite a compliment.
Alyssa was pretty: very blonde, with amazing green eyes that everyone commented on. Her 105 pounds distributed over her short frame so nicely, my friends had drooled over her far back as I could remember, overlooking her nerdy style. Prettier than my girlfriend, in fact, which is one of the problems with having a gorgeous sister. I was nerd, too, so nerdiness did not bother me.
And, she was lying against me exactly the way my girlfriend would have. My own fault for folding up the armrest, which probably would have sounded pervy if the flight attendant knew she was my sister.
My parents chatted through the gap in the seats for a while, but wine made them sleepy, too. I can't sleep on a plane, so I read and watched movies. Alyssa wrapped her arm around mine when I returned from stretching my legs, so I put the blanket over us and tried to snooze for a few minutes.
Never quite falling asleep but I did drift a bit until a jolt of turbulence over Greenland or somewhere jostled me fully awake. My hand was on Alyssa, and she stirred from the bump, so I squeezed to reassure her without thinking where my hand was. Under the blanket, I moved in an effort to determine where my hand was.
I was rubbing the inside of her thigh!
Just as I started to ease my hand away before she noticed, she wrapped her arms tighter around mine, locking it down where it was, and her head snuggled against her pillow, which, by then, was down on my chest.
Pervy as it felt, her thigh felt nice. I tried not to figure out how high it was, hopefully not as high as I imagined, tried not to squeeze again—basically left it where she held it and tried to focus on the movie. Alyssa moved, and that tugged on the cord of the headset, pulling it off the ear on her side. My natural reaction was to use the hand on her leg, but controlled that impulse and managed to get it on with my left hand.
Soft, yet tight through her jeans...okay, I forced myself not to think about the inside of my sister's thigh.
More turbulence about 20 minutes later jolted her awake, and she let go of my arm and I let go of her thigh and acted like it was completely normal. She sat up and fluffed her hair. "Oh, I've gotta go to the bathroom!"
Before I could get my tray up and stand to let her out, she was on her feet and scootching past, her little ass less than an inch from my face, and I wondered how I had missed how tight her jeans were?
Pop reached up between the seats to tap my shoulder. It made me jump with fright. "What's going on?"
My heart stopped. What had he seen? "What do you mean?"
"This movie. I still don't know what a blade runner is."
"I am lost, too," I admitted." For the last 20 minutes or so, I was not paying much attention.
When she returned, she picked up a paperback. I asked, "What are you reading?"
"
Flowers in the Attic
."
"What's it about?"
"It's like a Gothic horror romance."
"Any good?"
"It's pretty amazing," she answered.
The rest of the flight went normally, neither one of us letting on anything inappropriate had taken place. Did she sleep through it? Probably. Whew!
We landed in Marseille, a rough, industrial city on the Mediterranean coast, France's second largest city. It was morning, and at the train station we boarded a filthy, yet somehow romantic train car. The countryside captivated us as we followed a beautiful coastal path across vineyards, through mountains, and occasionally just upon the edge of the Mediterranean. After almost a day of travel to Marseille, and then train from Marseille to the Riviera, we arrived at our destination, Nice.
#
Pop is the one who labeled it our Nice Family Vacation, mixing up the pronunciation between the English
nice
and the French city name of
Nice
. When he said, "Nice," someone invariably pronounced it in the other language. Yeah, we were a family of dorks. That first day was a blur from the jet lag. I didn't know much about Nice, but it looked like the Duran Duran video for Rio. After an early dinner, we all crashed before sunset and slept for 12 hours.
The next day we took a sightseeing tour to get our bearings and learn about the city. We hit a museum. The last time I spent this much time with Alyssa, we were kids. To my surprise, she was fun and laughed at my corny jokes. She really had changed this last year I was away at college. When I left, she was still a hormony, self-absorbed teenage nerd. Before that, I was a hormony, self-absorbed teenage boy, so years had passed since we got along.
The food in Nice is fantastic! Fresh seafood, traditional French cuisine, patisseries on every corner—I was ready to skip my senior year at college and stay right here! The four of us sipped red wine at sunset overlooking the Mediterranean when Alyssa planned our next day. "Can we go to the beach tomorrow?"
Everyone was enthusiastic, but Mom cautioned, "Luckily, the resort is not one of those topless beaches they have here."
And that's how my mother ruined my first day at the beach on the French Riviera.
Don't get me wrong—it was a great beach full of gorgeous, tanned women in tiny bikinis—some of the tiniest I have ever seen. But they all wore tops, and ever since my Pop mentioned going to Nice, I thought,
nice! Titties at the beach
! Alyssa looked good, I noticed, but her bikini looked scandalously conservative on this beach.
Also, we found out it's not a beach as we in America think of one. Beaches are composed of two essential elements: sea and sand. The Med was there, its blue waves washing gently ashore every few seconds. There was no sand, though. This "beach" was billions of rocks ranging in size from small to tiny—rocks of every size except sand. Thank god for the lounge chairs the hotel provides for its guests.
That night, our parents turned in, leaving me in charge of babysitting my 18-year-old sister while she enjoyed legal wine. Okay, not exactly babysitting, because we had fun. Alyssa wasn't half bad, now that she'd grown out of her snotty phase. She was naturally nerdy, and I think struggling to try to fit in with the cool kids took a lot of energy.
She had been popular with the guys, though. And, come fall, frat boys would swoop down on her again. For now, though, she and I enjoyed the dorkiness of a Nice family vacation.
"I need your help." Sure, I agreed. "Tomorrow, I want to go to the beach. The thing is, I want to try a topless beach, so they can't know."
My heart suffered momentary arrhythmia. "What am I supposed to do?"
"Tell her we're going somewhere else. We need to get away from them and have an alibi."
"We?"
"You don't think I'm going to a topless beach by myself, do you?"
"Well, yeah." The only person on the planet less likely for her to take to a topless beach was Pop—and only by a close margin.
"It's not going to make you feel uncomfortable, is it? I mean, I assumed you would enjoy being around hundreds of topless women."
"Well, yeah," I said again, still somewhat dumbstruck. "The thing is one particular topless woman will be there, and I am surprised you want me around to see."
"Well, if that bothers you..."
"No, it's just..."
"Because, with all the foxy Frenchies running around topless, I assumed you wouldn't notice."
It is so cute when women are so utterly clueless. I suppose women chuckle at us guys when we completely fail to understand something equally obvious about the other sex. The fact that she might actually imagine me disinterested in seeing my sister's boobs shocked me in its naivety. Alyssa is a smart girl. Perhaps smarter than I gave her credit for—or crueller than I credited her with.
"Well, I can try to focus on all those other naked boobies instead of yours."
"Oh, god!" Emeralds rolled around her eye sockets. "If I thought you wanted to see mine, I wouldn't take you with me."
"What do you think the point of a topless beach is, exactly?"
"Okay, point made. But I am sure there will be hundreds of boobs more interesting than mine."
