Eye Opening Family Holiday

I, along with my wife Kate and our daughters Karen and Susan, was on holiday in Benidorm, on Spain's Costa Blanca. Benidorm was the just about last destination that I would've selected myself, but Kate had insisted that 'as it's likely to be the last holiday that we'll all share, we ought to let the girls choose where we go.'

Karen's almost twenty, while Susan has just turned eighteen and in a few weeks time, she too would be starting university. So, I could see where Kate was coming from with that, but I suspected that provided the Bank of Mum and Dad were prepared to pick up the tab, the girls would continue to join us for holidays.

I did at least get to select our hotel, so I went for an upmarket place, close to the Old Town and well to the west of the bars and nightclubs of Calle Gerona. Our arrival in the early afternoon had required an early morning departure for our drive to the airport, so once we'd checked-in, Kate and I had retired to our room for a siesta.

The girls meanwhile elected to 'Go out and explore... Get the lie of the land.' So it was agreed that we'd reconvene at seven for dinner in the hotel's restaurant. It was a little after five when I woke to discover a note which had been pushed under our door; the handwriting was Karen's: 'Had to change rooms -- Now on 12th Floor -- Will see you at 7:00.'

No explanation and no details as to their new room number, so we had to wait until dinner to hear the reason why. We found Karen and Susan in the hotel bar at 6:40, where their story was related: 'Having met a disabled lady in the elevator, who had been allocated a room on the twelfth floor, we couldn't bear to see her struggle, so volunteered to exchange rooms with she and her husband.'

Though one couldn't fault the girls' public spiritedness, my first thought was that it was perhaps more likely that our daughters didn't want a room adjoining their parents? The expression in Kate's eyes suggested similar and the fact that we never once either saw or heard anyone, disabled or otherwise, in the room adjoining ours, perhaps confirmed those suspicions.

Kate's expression also indicated that this was not the moment -- when would it be? - to question the veracity of our daughters' story, so I let it slide and we headed into the restaurant for dinner. The girls joined us for a drink in the bar afterwards too, but as the hotel's entertainment began -- a fairly decent Elvis tribute act -- the girls headed out in search of something more to their taste.

Their departure in itself didn't surprise me, but two things about it did: The dresses that they were wearing were far more conservative -- bordering on demure -- than I might've expected them to wear for night out on the town. More intriguing still, when they went out of the hotel's door, they turned to the right; the pubs and clubs of Calle Gerona were to the left?

Kate and I breakfasted alone the following morning -- no surprise, the girls had told us not to expect them -- whereafter we went for a walk to the Mirador del Castell and on down into the older/Spanish area of town. A very pleasant morning, getting the stiffness of yesterdays travels out of our bones and enjoying a cup of coffee and later on an aperitif along the way.

The girls had surfaced by the time we returned for a late lunch, after which they headed out to the hotel pool. The heat was by then too much for Kate and I, so we went to our room for another siesta, only going down to join them at five o'clock. I did see the girls from our balcony though; their skimpy bikinis looked a far cry from last night's dresses and both were garnering plenty of attention.

It was still uncomfortably hot when we arrived at five, which perhaps answered why the girls both put on cotton kaftans as we approached... Surely it wasn't to disguise just how revealing those bikinis were? The four of us spent another hour beside the pool, before returning to our rooms to shower and change for dinner.

This evening I was even more intrigued: The girl's dresses were not only demure, but exactly the same ones that they'd worn the night before; Kate -- any woman? - would not have been seen dead wearing the same dress two nights in succession! And once again, when the girls left the hotel, they turned to the right as they went out of the door.

Since last night I'd done a little exploring of my own; immediately the girls went out of sight, I strode briskly across the hotel lobby to position myself behind a well located column. Our hotel had a second entrance and pair of elevators at the farther end of the lobby; as anticipated, my two giggling daughters re-entered through that, not ten seconds later.

I watched the elevator's progress -- it did at least go to level twelve, though the girls still hadn't divulged their room number -- before returning to Kate in the bar. Fifteen minutes later both Kate and I were hidden behind that same column in the lobby, as we watched our daughters depart for a second time; those conservative dresses were nowhere in sight.

Kate perhaps summed it up best, as the doors swung closed behind Karen and Susan's re-departing backs: "Dear God; they look like a pair of hookers in search of a street corner."

I wasn't about to disagree, the strapless dresses they now wore might've been painted on, with hems so high that a wisp of breeze as she exited the door was sufficient to reveal Karen's panties; there wasn't much material in those either! Their make-up was garish to say the least and how either managed to walk in their strappy high heels was beyond my comprehension.

Kate and I returned to the bar; several stiff drinks being called for as the discussion about our daughters' attire and likely behaviour took up most of the evening. Much of that conversation was along the lines of 'Where did we go wrong?' Though we both agreed (reluctantly) that as adults we must now allow the girls to make their own decisions on such matters.

We retired to our bed at eleven and three hours later, with Kate sound asleep, I was sat on the balcony in my pyjamas. It wasn't thoughts of our daughters that had disturbed my sleep -- well, not entirely -- I've always woken for an hour or two in the early hours of the morning; something that's proved beneficial business-wise, as I often do my best thinking then.

I wasn't disturbing Kate out there and the temperature was very pleasant; the most comfortable it'd been since we arrived in this damned place! To be fair, Benidorm itself was looking much better now too; there was a glow of lights and the distant rumble of music coming from the Calle Gerona direction, but around our hotel, all was silent and pitch black.

It was that darkness, or at least the interruption of it which caught my attention: Every window in the apartment building across the street had been dark, until the one directly opposite our balcony abruptly glowed with light. I could see the movement of someone inside the room, but nothing more; there were diaphanous curtains drawn across the windows and doorway.

My attention drifted elsewhere, only to return a few minutes later when that light became brighter; it was now the balcony light rather than an internal one that I was seeing and someone had come outside. Looking across the swimming pool I must have been towards two hundred feet away, but I could see that it was a heavy-set man.

When I heard him call out to someone inside, I noted that he was speaking in English, but with a gravelly, East-European accent; I guessed his age to be late forties, perhaps even fifty, so close to my own age. In response to the man's shout, a girl then appeared in the doorway; she was slightly built and looked much younger.

I didn't catch the girl's reply, but it was definitely spoken in native-English; that caught my attention and that attention intensified when the girl stepped out onto the balcony. Her body shape, hair and most of all, the way in which she moved, saw my breathing checked and my heart miss a beat, perhaps even two.

That first reaction was confirmed almost immediately: The girl came over to the balcony rail and gestured in the direction of our hotel. While I couldn't hear what she'd said, that arm-gesture became more defined; the girl was counting floors and then along her chosen floor -- the sixth! - before coming to rest pointing directly at our room. It was Susan!

I sank back into my chair, hiding in the shadows. Only when I realised that with our room in darkness and the two of them standing beneath the bright lights on their own balcony, I must be all but invisible to them, did I feel able to breath again. I couldn't hear their conversation, but it wasn't a wild assumption to think the man was learning whose hotel room it was.

I heard the man laugh as he stepped behind Susan, grasped the top of that slutty dress she was wearing and jerked it down to her waist. Even across that divide I saw Susan's pale breasts spring free and bounce beneath the harsh light of the balcony; that drew a squeal of laughter from Susan too, which ceased as she turned to share a passionate kiss with the man.

With their attentions on each other, I slipped quietly back into our room, picked up my camera from the dressing table and with equal stealth, returned to my seat. I swear to God, that in that moment my only intention was to use the camera's zoom lens to confirm my fears; I don't know what possessed me to press the video record button.

Those fears were confirmed in an instant; the balcony now appeared twenty rather than two hundred feet away. That said, I could see little better; with that powerful X10 zoom and now shaking hands, I could barely keep the two of them in shot. I carefully put the camera down onto the balcony rail and checked its alignment... That was when I pressed 'record'.

Sinking back into my chair I contented myself with an... overview, in the full knowledge that I could check the details later and of course delete the recording immediately afterwards. Even without the assistance of the camera I was seeing more of what my daughter was up to than I'd expected to and certainly far more than I, or indeed any father should see!

Unlike the latticework of our own balcony, the one opposite had glazed panels below its handrail; save for that waist-level rail I could see it all! Most particularly the man's hand disappearing beneath Susan's skirt and I already knew there wasn't much space for it to disappear into under there; a jerk of Susan's pelvis told me when that hand reached it's destination.

A second later, the couple's kiss was interrupted as Susan arched her back, threw back her head and squealed with delight; had her panties been torn away or just pushed aside? That I couldn't see. The man's head lowered and he began suckling Susan's breasts, while the hand between her legs continued to skewer into her.

The man was fingering my daughter aggressively, in fact one might say savagely, but there seemed to be no complaints from Susan. Her body pitched and jerked, seemingly looking to intensify rather than mitigate the man's brutal assault; while the wails, squeals and groans -- which reached even my ears -- spoke of pleasure and encouragement.

After perhaps thirty seconds, the man released Susan's breast from his mouth, took half a step backwards then casually spun Susan around and pushed her forward to bump against the small table now ahead of her. Entwining one hand into Susan's hair, he bent her carelessly over the table and thrust his other hand back between Susan's legs.

The question of Susan's knickers was answered a moment later; he'd only pushed those aside, as with a sharp jerk, which drew a fresh yelp from Susan, he tore them off her now. That hand moved on to the belt and waistband of his own trousers; as they slithered down his thighs a few seconds later, the man was already pressing his cock between Susan's legs.

This penetration too looked violent, Susan appeared to be bodily lifted from the table by its power; it certainly lifted her feet clear of the floor. But once again, as indeed with each subsequent thrust, Susan accepted, indeed welcomed it, with torrent of lewd and foul mouthed encouragement, interspersed with bestial growls and groans.

Their coupling didn't last long - a minute or so, perhaps ninety-seconds at the very most? - throughout which Susan was bouncing around like a rag-doll atop the table. It concluded when Susan's whole body appeared to go rigid and those wanton words and moans were replaced by a banshee howl which must've roused half of Benidorm; I didn't know that a woman could climax that hard!

Perhaps the man fucking Susan thought similarly; he stopped driving into her in the instant. Seconds later a second man appeared on the balcony, he was naked and looked of a similar age and build to the man who'd been fucking Susan. He spoke loudly in an east-European language; I didn't understand a word, but his tone was easily interpreted... He wanted to know what the fuck had been going on out there.

I was so enthralled by the men's heated -- though now easing -- conversation, that I was slow to notice a fourth figure appearing on the balcony. It was another girl, wrapped in a large white towel; she was tiny, an almost elfin figure; how young was she? It was the girl's apparent size that had caught me out; unlike Susan she was barefoot... It was Karen!

Karen and Susan are of similar heights at around 5' 5"; but I'd made no allowance for those spike heeled fuck-me sandals that Susan was still wearing. With that now back in context, I felt a tremble roll through my stomach; just how big were those two guys? Well over six-feet, discounting the high-heels they both towered over my daughters.

Disconcerting as that train of thought had been, it did at least distract me for a few seconds from my concerns with regard to Susan's violation. During those few seconds my younger daughter seemed to have recovered herself; though still bent over the table, Susan was now raised up on her elbows and talking to Karen.

While beyond ear-shot, the subject of that conversation was clearly their proximity to our hotel and the line of sight afforded to mum & dad's room. I saw both girls' teeth flash as they grinned at the discovery, though Susan's laughter was short-lived; the man who'd come outside with Karen caught hold of her by the hair, lifted her higher still and pushed his cock into her mouth.

My suspicion was, that said cock had very recently been inside her sister; though, Susan didn't appear in any way fazed by its incursion, while Karen audibly squealed in delight at the sight. Almost immediately the man still standing behind Susan resumed thrusting his cock into her pussy, I hadn't considered the possibility that he'd not yet climaxed.

That too drew a squeal of delight from Karen and she danced around excitedly as she watched the two men tag-teaming her sister. The man fucking Susan was now a little more restrained; but was that in consideration of Susan's wellbeing, or to avoid her biting off his friends cock if he'd reamed her as aggressively as he had done earlier?

Karen disappeared back through the curtain perhaps twenty seconds later; she was absent for a similar period before reappearing. Soon after that I saw several bright light flashes and realised that I wasn't the only one making a record of proceedings; Karen was using her phone camera to photograph her sister's twin defilement.

The two men continued to spit-roast Susan for perhaps three minutes, before the one using her pussy jerked fully upright, his back arching as he bellowed his way through a climax. Even from my viewpoint I could see him twitch and shudder as he pumped his seed into my daughter, to the accompaniment of yet more delighted squeals from Karen.

Afterwards the man slumped into a chair and the man using Susan's mouth released her only a second or two later; from the way Susan dropped back to the table top, I guessed that she too had orgasmed again? That second man now disappeared inside for a few seconds, before returning with a bottle in each hand; they looked like champagne bottles, but being in Spain, they perhaps held Cava.

He handed one bottle to Karen, before dropping into a chair beside his friend; the two men shared one bottle -- drinking straight from the bottle's neck -- while Karen helped Susan back upright to sit on the table's edge, took a healthy swig herself and passed that bottle to Susan. The four of them drank like that for a couple of minutes, until Karen passed their bottle to the men too.

As Karen did so, the man hooked a hand into the top of the towel that she was still wearing; that fell away to leave her naked before them... and me. Something was said whereafter Karen turned toward her sister and helped Susan remove her already disarrayed dress; those spike heeled shoes went too, so now both of my daughters stood entirely naked before me.

The men remained reclining in their chairs while the girls began to dance. I couldn't hear any music, but it may have been too quiet to reach me, or perhaps it was just within the girls' own heads? It was a very salacious display from the two of them; a pole might've been appropriate, though they seemed to do quite well by utilising each other in that regard.

Neither of the men joined them, content -- like myself - to watch the erotic show; though they did have an advantage insofar as they were close enough to the action to call encouragement and instructions to the girls. My daughters seemed more than happy to comply with those and their cavorting grew ever more licentious.

The girls were sharing sensual kisses, fondling each others breasts as they entwined around each other. Hands were pressed between willingly parted thighs and -- though at the distance I was away, it wasn't clear at the time -- even fingers sinking into each others pussies; I couldn't see how the two men reacted, but my cock was now like an iron bar!

My daughters' lewd performance continued for almost ten minutes before the two men rose from their seats. When eventually they did, the man who'd earlier been fucking Susan grabbed hold of Karen and pushed her roughly up against the balustrade; she was stark naked and looking directly towards me!

A second later and Susan was standing beside her, one of the men behind each of them. The speed and ease with which the two men then penetrated my daughters suggested that despite having already, come once they were again as hard as I was; the girls' shameless waltz had hit the spot for them as well as it had me.

The men ploughed my daughters for perhaps a minute; I told myself that both were less... aggressive than the fucking that Susan had endured, but seemingly enjoyed, earlier. I then discovered that I'd spoken too soon: almost as one the two men adjusted their stance and slammed their cocks back into my daughters.

The expressions on the girls' faces and the strangled screams that both voiced made it fairly obvious where those two cocks were now buried; a second thrust lifted my daughters' feet from the floor and drew a further pair of cries from their lips. I was on my feet in an instant, on the point of shouting, but what good could I do from here?

Another few moments and a third driving penetration from the men settled the matter; or more precisely Karen's next shout did: "Oh fuck Yessssss! And now the rest of it!" All I heard from Susan was a feral groan, but even that spoke of now willing acceptance and accommodation; the laughter of the two men certainly advised that they were happy with events.

Both girls' feet remained off the floor, they were supported only by their bellies and hands on the balcony rail, the men's hands at their hips and no doubt those cocks buried deep inside their bottoms. I settled back into my chair as having broached the tight entrances to my daughters arses, the two men began stroking into them with increasing ease.