Pippa's Provence Holiday

The call from my darling sister came as I would have expected - at an unexpected time. I was busily preparing a breakfast of scrambled eggs, bacon, tomatoes and hash browns at the time - I've lived in France for years, but like most English I cannot abide their fucking fetish for a stale croissant and a tiny thimbleful of black, brackish coffee. Give me a cooked breakfast any day.

Anyway, Pippa was sitting at the kitchen table wearing only a pair of hot pants, watching me, wearing only an apron, doing the cooking when the call came.

"Get that, darling," I told her, as I moved the eggs round in the pot.

Pippa picked up the mobile and announced herself.

"Oh, hi mummy," she said. "Yes, yes, yes. I'm having a wonderful time, uncle's really looking after me." And with that she shook her lovely large naked breasts at me so they wobbled from side to side.

Then she stood and handed me the phone, whispering "I'll finish this".

I spoke to my dear sister. "Hi, Donna, what's up?"

"My fucking marriage," said my 40-year-old sister, who is two years older than me, with her Roedean accent, which always causes words like "fucking" to sound so alien to her mouth.

"Sorry to hear that," I said, not in the slightest bit sorry. Her lawyer husband was a cunt and she'd married way beneath her - not in social standing, you understand, but in style.

"I'm in Paris and I'm catching the 10 o'clock TGV for Avignon," she announced, in that typical "Do as I say" manner of hers. "Pick me up. And then you can buy me a decent lunch in Avignon, if such a thing exists, you know how much I detest train food."

I didn't, but an excuse to have a meal in Avignon was no problem, I knew dozens of trendy little eateries.

Donna flounced off the train into the baking sun on the platform and marched towards me. She looked stunning, as I knew she would. A large yellow sunhat was perched on her head, covering her long, brunette hair. A little frock did nothing to hide the magnificent proportions of her big breasts (40 inches at the very least and all natural), her lovely strong thighs and her suntanned calves.

Mens' heads turned as she planted a chaste kiss on my cheek, commented "That's a fucking disgusting baseball hat, Jack ", indicating my Cubs cap, and marched out into the car park.

Ever the gentleman, I opened the passenger door of the Maserati and noticed as the frock rode up her tanned thighs that while they were large they were also superbly toned. As she climbed in she displayed a flash of black satin panties at her crotch. Even though I was fucking her daughter like there was no tomorrow, I felt a tremor of lust run through me - if there's one thing I adore on a woman it's black lingerie. Unusual in a man, that, eh?

"Take me to lunch, I could eat a horse," she said, lighting a Gauloise as I wheeled out of the car park. "On second thoughts, don't take me anywhere they serve horse!"

"Well," she said, as I drove to one of the city's better non-horse-selling restaurants on the outskirts of town, "what do you think of my darling daughter?"

I gulped, aware that I was fucking her like crazy, then recovered myself. "She's lovely," I replied, totally honestly. "We're getting on very well." Again I was being totally honest.

"Better looking than some of those whores you photograph for a living, eh Jack?" she said, snidely, referring to my men's magazine job as a photographer of the female form.

"Yes, but she's probably too short to make it in the modelling business," I told Donna.

"Her and me both," she said, inhaling sharply on the pungent little Gauloise.

"Au contraire, my darling sister," I smiled, as I pulled up into the restaurant's car park. "You're about four inches taller than Pippa and, as the French would put it, a woman 'of a certain age'.

"There are some magazines that specialise in women who are 40-plus - and I'm not talking about their bust size. You'd go down a treat in them. Men around the world fantasize about making love to what the porn trade calls MILFs."

Donna arched an eyebrow, as we got out of the Maserati.

"MILFs?" she said.

"Stands for 'Mother I'd Like to Fuck,' and you'd be a quintessential MILF," I told her.

"Tell my fucking husband," she snorted, and we went in for lunch.

Over a typical French provincial lunch, washed down with a perky little Cotes du Rhone, Donna poured her heart out to me.

"That fuckwit of a husband is useless. He's not fucked me in months, he doesn't go down on me. I'm going to fucking leave him," she moaned.

"Thought about playing around?" I asked, sipping on the light red.

"Within my social group I'd be spotted in a nanosecond," she explained. "Not that I've not tried. I was so desperate one week-end when he was away with his boring bloody mates on a golf trip, I employed a male prostitute."

I inclined my head in a question. Donna licked her finger after dipping it in a bowl of bearnaise sauce. "Fucking useless. Wore a fucking condom, which I hate, came too soon - which I also hate - and muff-dived me like a fucking chicken pecking at its corn. Money down the drain."

I tried to commiserate, she drank another half bottle of Cotes du Rhone, I paid, we drove to my place.

Pippa was lounging by the pool in one of those string bikinis which hardly covered her nipples, never mind the sides of her areolae, and left her labia lips nearly peeping out from the sides of the crotch string.

"Hi darling," said Donna, bending to proffer a kiss to her daughter's cheek. "There was no need to dress formally on my account."

"Sorry, mummy," said Pippa, "but I like to tease Uncle Jack."

"And I'm sure you do a fucking fantastic job of it, my dear," said her mother. "Now I know what type of poolside wear is allowed, I'll go and get changed."

I told my sister where to find her bedroom and as she swept upstairs, Pippa hissed: "Wear a thong, Jack, make her feel at home."

My eyes bulged. "A thong? Are you insane? I wear a thong and she'll know something's up - especially with you dressed like a Hammersmith hooker."

"Nonsense," said my lovely little niece. "You've got a great body for an old man, you're nicely muscled and a thong suits you. Anyway, mummy is sex-starved and wants to look at a nice male figure - did she tell you about daddy?"

I nodded, slipping my Ralph Lauren jeans and Armani shirt off to reveal a tight little black satin thong. "She's fed up with him and wants a divorce," I reported.

"Good," said Pippa, sucking on a bottle of beer. "He's as useless as tits on a bull. Time she was shot of him."

I lay down on my recliner, next to Pippa's, leaving the outside one of the three to Donna, who soon reappeared wearing an outfit that almost caused me to shoot my wad!

She was still wearing the floppy sun hat and her high heels, but was now clad in a one-piece outfit that made me gape. Her large, toned body was tanned a deep brown - summer in England must have been a smasher this year!

But it was the one-piece that grabbed my attention. I'd never seen a woman in anything like it, and the fact that it was my sister did nothing to alleviate the stirrings I felt in my crotch.

The garment was made of some sort of metallic material which glowed in the light. It was a sort of purple colour and consisted of a bra which had a large cut out in the middle, and was just two narrow strips over the centre of her breasts. Her nipples stood out and must have been erect. The sides of her globes were brown in the Provence sunlight.

From the tops and bottoms of the bra, straps went around her neck to support it, and down to the crotch piece, which was similar to the bra cups, consisting of a narrow strap which widened slightly at the labia to cover her sex lips. As she bent to place her towel on her recliner, the straps at the back cut into her buttock cheeks, which were totally naked.

"Sorry about the informal wear, Jack," Donna smiled at me, "but since I saw Pippa was dressed like a 'lady' from one of your magazines, I thought I follow suit. Well, what do you think - would I go down well in one of those 40-plus mags you told me about?"

Before I could stammer a reply, Pippa piped up: "You look fucking fantastic, mummy. Uncle Jack must photograph you for one of his contracts. I can write the headline now - 'She's 40 and she fucks!'"

Donna laughed sardonically and lay on her back on her recliner. "Fucking? Sorry, darling, I know the word but I've forgotten what it describes. Er, what's a fuck?"

"Something daddy's forgotten about," laughed Pippa. "Unless - unless he's having an affair?"

Donna broke up in mock amusement. "Sorry, Pippa," she lectured her daughter, "but his beer belly is so fucking obscene it's a wonder he can even find his willy when he wants to pee. And as for finding a woman, forget it. He's simply repulsive now - well, he's repulsive to me."

I decided it was time to change the subject and stood up, dragging a towel across my midriff to hide my cock, which had started to grow aroused at the sight of my sister in her micro-sized one-piece. "Anyone for a beer?" I asked, as nonchalantly as I could muster.

Donna looked at me from over the tops of her expensive-looking sunglasses. "I thought you'd never fucking offer, Jack - and Jack. Take off that stupid towel. I know you're wearing a thong and I want to get a look at your arse when you go into the kitchen. Now, fetch boy - fetch!"

And as I've always done for my big sister, I fetched. I dropped the towel, turned my back on them and walked into the kitchen for the beers. As I did I heard two wolf whistles from my sister and niece - the bitches!

The afternoon passed sucking beers, the two women complaining about their husband and father, respectively, and me pondering what we'd eat for dinner.

I chose steaks, we drank too much excellent Australian shiraz and Pippa and Donna both announced they were going up to bed. I drained the last of my shiraz and was about to enjoy a cigar and a snifter of brandy, when Pippa tiptoed down to the foot of the stairs.

She was wearing a little baby doll top - completely see-through, naturally for Pippa - and no panties. She whispered across the kitchen: "Uncle Jack, please go to mummy's bedroom. She wants to speak to you. She's rather upset."

With a sigh, I placed my cigar on the kitchen table, put the brandy bottle back in its place in the liqueur cabinet and walked upstairs, behind Pippa's wiggling little naked bum. I wanted to kiss her arse, then fuck her, but duty and Donna called.

I entered the guest bedroom and saw Donna standing by the bed. Her hair fell in long tresses over her shoulders, she was in a black leather mini and a white shirt, which she had worn for dinner. Black high-heeled shoes completed her outfit.

"Yes, sis," I said, approaching her, "Pippa said you wanted to see me?"

As I neared her I could see tears welling in her eyes, making them large white and browns pools. Then she reached behind her back and did something to her skirt. It fell to the floor and she stepped out of it and kicked it away, then placed her feet about three feet apart.

My eyes were dragged to her crotch. Gone were the black satin knickers. She wasn't wearing any panties! At her mons a fuzzy little patch of dark brown pubic hair sprouted. At her crotch, large labia lips gleamed reddish and inviting.

Despite the fact she was my sister, I felt a familiar stirring in my groin. But I could see clearly that she was distressed. Too much wine, then beer, then more wine, I guessed.

I moved towards her to comfort her - honest! Donna placed her hands on my shoulders - in her high heels she was only a couple of inches shorter than my six-feet plus - and pressed me down. I was hypnotised. I honestly tried to struggle but she was quite strong. My eyes gazed at the starched whiteness of her shirt, then at her slight little pot belly, then at her brown abdomen, then her pubic hair, then her pussy lips.

Then that wonderful female aroma of a woman on heat assailed my nostrils. Then, of course, I knew I was gone. I pressed my face against her sex trench and planted a soft kiss on her clitoris. Then I licked down her labia. Then I sucked at the wetness of her cunt. I couldn't resist. OK, typical male I know, but they say the power of a woman's pubic hair could drag the Titanic. It sure as hell dragged me!

Soon I was working as conscientiously as I could on my sister's sex-juice streaming snatch. The aroma was magnificent, the taste sensational. Donna moaned and rocked back and forth on my mouth, as I knelt at her tempting temple, unbuckling my belt and pushing down my jeans as I did so.

When my jeans were at my ankles, my cock sprang free from my groin - I'd discarded any underwear after my late afternoon swim - and it brushed against her leg.

Donna then hissed from above me: "Jack, oh Jack, darling. I'm not ordering, I'm not asking, I'm begging. Fuck me, Jack - please, please, fuck me!"

I dragged my T-shirt over my head and stood slowly, my lips stained by the moisture from her minge and saw that she had removed her shirt. Her lovely lush breasts were pointing at me as I regained my feet. They were being pushed upwards into startling uplift by a black satin quarter-cup bra. Now I don't know about you, but for me the quarter-cup bra is the number one, you beauty, best-ever piece of feminine attire. It's so far ahead of crotchless panties it's not funny.

My mouth attacked with a hunger that belied the fact I'd been fucking Pippa and sucking at her 38-inch breasts for days. Donna's were mighty tits - large, dark brown nipples, large, dark brown areolae. I was crazy for them!

I placed my hands onto Donna's buttocks, big and brown they felt like two big marbles in my hands - shit, did this woman work out or what! Hoisting her into the air I laid her as gently as I could muster onto the bed and climbed onto her, placing my quivering cock head against her cunt lips.

Seeing a question in my face, Donna smiled and whispered: "I've had a woman's operation down there, Jack - it's quite safe, darling." And so I slid up her velvet-smooth cunt, slowly but strongly, until my pubic bone banged against hers. Then she kissed me on the mouth - no, not so much a kiss as a munching, like she was feeding on me, wanting to consume me with her lust, with her passion - with her hunger.

"Oh fuck me Jack, fuck me," she panted, "I'd forgotten what this was like."

I began to move slowly up and down her sex tunnel, feeling her large strong body writhing beneath me, her hands dragged across my back and buttocks, her nails gouging tell-tale tracks across my flesh in her frenzy.

Somehow I managed to control myself as we kissed, and then I switched positions, flicking her on top of me so she could hump and heave on my hard-on at whatever tempo she desired. She knelt up on the mattress, her hands pressing my shoulders down onto the satin sheets, her crotch bouncing up and down on my pubic bone.

The next thing I knew, Pippa was standing beside the bed, a great big smile on her face. Her baby doll top was gone, she was stark naked. Donna looked at her daughter and returned the smile.

"See, mummy," said the little 19-year-old, "didn't I tell you he was a great fuck?"

Donna didn't stop her humping, but nodded her head so firmly her breasts bounced and jumped, making me want to lift my upper body and suck them all over again.

"And he eats pussy like a champion, Pippa, just like you said as well!" said my sister.

"I know," said Pippa, as I maintained my fuck pace to match her mother's thrusting. "May I join you?"

Donna grinned and looked down at me. "I think his face is available, darling," she told her daughter, and Pippa climbed onto the bed to straddle my sweat-stained face and press her gloriously aromatic crotch down on me.

"Oooh, fuck, that looks so good, Pip," said her mother, "I must try some of that soon, but right now I think I'm going to come. Help me come, darling, help me!"

And although I couldn't see anything, my face buried as it was in Pippa's musky minge, I sensed that the 19-year-old had inclined her upper body forward and soon I heard unmistakeable sounds of breasts being sucked.

As I heard that Pippa was licking her mother's breasts and sucking on her nipples, I also heard a sob, then a moan. It was Donna, unleashing her frustrated passions as her daughter sucked her and as her brother fucked her!

Then Donna was sobbing "Yes, fuck me Jack, suck me Pip, fuck me, suck me, fuck me - yeeeees!"

And with that final half-gasped, half-screamed cry, Donna came on my sweating body in a noisy and obviously extremely enjoying climax.

It took her perhaps a minute to calm down, but Pippa had no intention of releasing me from my oral adoration at her sex trench and backside. My mouth was working overtime and no more than a minute or two after her mother had panted to a pulsating climax, than the darling daughter was also calling out as her orgasm swept through her pussy to wash onto my frantically-working mouth and tongue.

The two women lay down on either side of my perspiration-drenched naked body. Then Donna reached out and stroked my cock, its foreskin still pulled back to the ring, its shaft still rigid and thick.

"And what happens next, Jack?" she asked, stroking my stiffy, keeping it waving above my abdomen in eager anticipation, "it's been such a long time I've quite forgotten what the man does next. Would you care to enlighten me?"

I grunted and rose above her lush body. "I'll do better than that, sis," I told her, "I'll fucking show you!"

And I knelt with my knees in her armpits, her hands outstretched, stroking my upper body. As gently as I could, given my driving desire for ejaculation, I placed my cock head to her mouth. Donna, like a whore who'd done this every day of her life, sucked me down expertly, with one hand grasping my shaft, stroking it back and forth as I face fucked her.

As I was doing this, Pippa stood at the head of the bed above her mother's head, spread her feet wide and pushed her minge into my face once more. She was smelling divine, almost as divine as her lovely mum!

And as I planted my seed deep into my sister's throat, I licked my niece to her second orgasm of the night.

Fuck, these two were going to be a handful!

To be continued...