What I Did On My Vacations Pt 01

I'm sure we have all been asked by a teacher to write an essay entitled "What I did on my Vacation". It's a habit I have felt the need to maintain.

Warning: If you are uncomfortable with descriptions of explicit sex read no further. Future parts include incest, suspected and known.

Chapter One

It was not until I saw him that I realized how long it had been. My older brother Brad had always been an athlete, good at just about any sport he tried. He was a well-built six-three with great hand-eye coordination. So, it was no surprise when he won a scholarship to a prestigious school in California. The surprise to me was that it was a golf scholarship. I knew he played but I thought that was more like a pastime. He had been away for my last two years of high school and because he and my alcoholic father never got on, he had not been home for the holidays.

He excelled on the golf team and also graduated with an honours degree in business administration. He was accepted into a masters program, which he should complete this year. He was already playing as an amateur in certain tour events and was debating whether to turn professional.

And then it was my turn. I'm Jenifer Reddy, although I wish I had a surname that had not got me teased all through my school years. I had great grades through high school, did a year at McGill and then got accepted into an undergraduate program at the Sorbonne in Paris. My Dad had died shortly before I left. And now after nearly two years, I had come home to spend a month with Mum bringing with me Chantal, the girl with whom I shared accommodation in Paris. At twenty-two Chantal was almost a year younger than I was. She came from a little town in the south of France called Saint Cyprien, about thirty minutes south of Perpignan in the province of Roussillon.

When we first met, she was as much a stranger to Paris as I was, and we spent much of our spare time together exploring its wonders. Yes, there is a lot to do on a student's budget. The city itself is so beautiful to walk and then the Metro goes practically everywhere. I had not been home to Canada for Christmas, because it's expensive; a long way for a short time and knowing Brad would not be there it didn't seem like so much fun.

In any case Chantal invited me to spend the holiday skiing in the Pyrenees with her family at a place called Les Angles. Her uncle Paul has this chalet there. He owns some kind of factory in Narbonne and apparently is highly successful. Chantal's dad, Viktor, met us off the train and drove us up to the chalet. It had been overcast and raining all day and I got very nervous as we climbed into thick cloud. Viktor was a good conversationalist and he quickly found out a lot about me. It turns out he owns a local construction company that builds commercial and residential properties. After we had unloaded, and he had made sure we had everything we needed he wished us well and headed back home.

I awoke to a glorious morning and looking out of my window I could see the snow-capped peaks rising above me. It almost felt as if I could reach out and touch them. I'm a good skier, maybe not as good as Chantal, but good enough for us to have a lot of fun. On the weekend we were joined by Chantal's family: her parents and her younger brother. Her uncle Paul didn't show up until Christmas Eve. He was a couple of years older than Chantal's parents and was a very charming host for the three days he was there.

Although they all spoke good French, the language they mostly spoke among themselves was Catalan and I began to pick it up automatically. Her family are both generous and lovely and welcomed me with open arms, so it had been delightful to be invited to spend last summer at their home in Saint Cyprien.

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With the exams over, we caught a TGV to Perpignan. I wish we had trains like that in Canada. For a bit more than five hours we rode in comfort practically the whole length of France. We left from an overcast Gare du Nord but within an hour we were travelling in sunshine at speeds of up to 320 km/h through the ever-changing French countryside. It was late when we got in and her Dad, Viktor, came to pick us up.

After breakfast they suggested we all go to the beach for the morning and then we could come home for a late lunch. I packed a beach bag and asked Chantal whether to put on my bikini here and she said to suit myself, but she wasn't. So, I figured we'd all change there.

I was wrong, when we got there her dad and younger brother put up umbrellas while she and her mum spread a couple of large beach sheets on the sand below them. And then they just stripped off, I mean everyone just took off everything, and continued whatever they were doing totally naked. Chantal looked at my stunned expression, laughed and said "Jen, it's a nude beach. You don't have to, but it's really not clothing-optional. If you are uncomfortable, I have a bikini in my bag, and we could walk over to the clothed beach over there.

Well, this was a little unexpected. Of course, I had heard about nude beaches. I don't know if they had ever been, but my friends made them sound like places where everyone was making out. Yet here I was with what seemed to be a normal French family and they were passing around the sunscreen and chatting about everyday things.

There really wasn't a choice unless I wanted to look like some North American prude. There were only a few people on the beach. It was still May before the real tourist season, but it was gloriously warm. With what I hoped wasn't too nervous a grin, I pulled my shirt over my head and took off my bra; I undid my jeans and slipped them down my legs. I stood for a heartbeat in my thong before letting it join the growing pile of clothes at my feet.

As I stooped over and picked them up, Marti, Chantal's brother gave an ironic handclap, but I also saw he was checking me out. I just returned his look and checked him out too. He and his dad were both about five nine and in good shape. Marti was lighter and slimmer, but you could see he would fill out before long and shouldn't have any trouble attracting girls. He had that cute teenage cockiness that can be very appealing.

Talking of cockiness both he and his dad seemed to have been blessed in the penis department. At this point in my life, I had had sex with four different guys. The first one was at home in Canada and for a while I thought he was the one. The other three were since I came to France and not that serious. In fact, one of them was a fast and furious weekend fuck-fest, where we just couldn't get enough of each other. Sad to say that was the best sex I had had to that point.

However, I figured those guys had been smaller than Chantal's dad and brother, at least judging by their flaccid state. I'm not saying size matters, just a surprised observation.

This family were carrying on everyday life and here I was obsessed with genitalia. As if to accentuate the point I noticed that Solange, Chantal's mother, had a very trim full bush while Chantal had a narrow landing strip. I blushed as I realized my own bush had been very neglected. I hoped no one was noticing. We returned to the house for lunch and shortly after, I retired upstairs to use my razor and scissors.

We returned to the beach for part of most days of our stay and soon I found my nudity as normal as they did. On Bastille Day we spent the whole day at the beach and Uncle Paul turned up to join us. At six foot he was three inches taller than his brother. For some reason I had assumed he was Solange's brother, but it turned out he was Viktor's. Once on the beach I saw he certainly shared the same genes in the generous penis department. He reminded me of someone, but I couldn't think who.

It was a perfect break from the intensity of school even if one of enforced celibacy. Chantal was staying faithful to her boyfriend in Paris. There were a few boys around, but I was surprised, and a little disappointed, no one tried to hit on me. Not that they were that special. Chantal's brother Marti or her Uncle Paul were the most appealing and, of course, they were off-limits. Although if I had let Marti fuck me, it would have made his day, probably his whole holiday. Possibly mine too, but as I say he was off-limits. On my return to Paris, I loved my 'no tan lines' look whenever I saw myself in the mirror.

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The following Christmas both Chantal and I went on a University ski trip to Courchevel in the French Alps. What a blast! We shared a room with twin beds and were together in a fairly advanced class taught by an Italian instructor. I guess he was in his early thirties and both Chantal and I had the hots for him. She had ditched the erstwhile love of her life saying he was a waste of space, or something of that sort, if a little more vulgar.

We would compete to outshine each other in following our instructor down the slope and it must have been pretty obvious to our other class members what we were doing. In fact, the only other girl in our class of eight, an English girl, referred to us as groupie snow skanks, but she was just jealous. We conversed in my ever-improving Catalan because it was likely many of our classmates spoke French.

On our second evening there, the most extraordinary thing happened. I was in the hotel restaurant just passing the door to the kitchen when a waiter came out with food. I glanced through and there in a white apron and chef's hat was our ski instructor. It was weird. I told Chantal, but she had not seen him and told me I must be hallucinating.

On the slopes the next day I could not stop myself from asking the instructor and he said yes, he had two jobs. I asked how that was possible and then he laughed and said he had a twin brother who was a sous-chef in our hotel. They were identical twins. He said they lived in a studio on the edge of town and asked if Chantal and I would like to visit them after dinner that evening, as it was his brother's day off. I did not even have to ask Chantal to say yes.

We went over just after nine. It was a longer walk than we expected. When we got there, we were greeted by the two of them and it really was hard to tell them apart. I will not tell you how the evening progressed, but we had an amazing dessert and some liqueur shots and ended up spending the night. We both had sex several times; I'm fairly sure with each of them, although Chantal insisted that she had only had penetrative sex with our instructor, but it was hard to be certain. I can say they were both hard and that was certain.

By the end of the week, I had thoroughly figured out which one was which. Guido the sous-chef was a far more talented lover than our ski instructor. And, like Avis, he tried harder, he also came harder and so did I. Despite her continued denial I know he fucked Chantal at least three times that week. The thing I discovered about having sex when there is another couple in the same room is that when you finish you relax and watch them and bingo you are ready to go again. These boys were a couple of stallions.

We went back each night although Guido would only join us later at the end of his shift. In the morning they would ferry us back to the hotel in time to shower and eat a hearty breakfast before class. I'm not sure what housekeeping thought although on a couple of days we did grab a brief nap in our beds. The skiing was not the only challenging thing that week. I learned so much from each of them and my legs, abs and glutes were in great shape by the end, even if I was suffering from a lack of sleep. Merry Christmas!

---

Anyway, here I was home for the latter part of August and Chantal had come to join me. We had already spent the beginning of the summer at St Cyprien, which I was beginning to regard as a second home, so it was nice to be able to invite her to join me here.

I said I had brought Chantal home with me. That was not strictly true. Chantal had come over to Canada three weeks ahead of me to visit some relatives in Quebec, so I had had that time in St Cyprien on my own with her parents. Brother Marti was off in the Pyrenees doing something with Uncle Paul. Quite often I went down to the beach on my own and I met up with a group who were camping nearby. There was a young Spanish couple (brother and sister, not a married couple) and two young Germans (I think they were Germans, although they might have been Swiss or Austrian) and three French girls from Rouen. Although there was not a lot to do, we all hung out together.

The one thing about staying with Chantal and her family was no sex. I don't know if her Dad thought she was still a virgin, but I doubt it. So long as we all hung out together everyone was as I say off-limits. With Chantal gone and a group of unrelated friends those restrictions were lifted. I ended up having sex with Gonzalo, the Spanish boy, and later with one of the Germans. I was very horny lying with them in the nude all day and it helped to pass the time. I don't mean we did it on the beach. I did it with them on separate occasions at their campsite. I found they tended to rush, and it wasn't that satisfying.

Oh, and one time I did it in the sea with the Gonzalo, while the others were only fifteen metres away, but I don't think they noticed. They did not appear to. It did add a touch of spice and I nearly came. I wasn't the only one doing it. I don't think the Spanish girl did, but she hung around with Werner a lot, and I don't know what happened at night in the camp. I know two of the French girls did it, because one time we were all in the same tent coupled and doing our own thing, as if the others weren't there. One of them found Klaus more satisfying than I did or else she was quite a good actor. She also fucked him under a blanket on the beach one evening, while the rest of us were talking.

I am not sex mad, but in previous generations a lot of girls my age would have already been married. Anyway, I believe reasonably regular sex is healthy for both body and mind. Mind you I often go for long periods without any, so when opportunity arises, and the hormones are stirring, I admit I tend to be a little promiscuous. It's just sex for sex' sake, no messy romantic entanglements.

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One evening at dinner Solange asked about my family. She said most of the Canadians that came here had always been from Quebec. I asked if there were many. She said quite a lot. When she was young, younger than I am now, it was rarer to meet Canadians, especially from outside Quebec. She remembered Paul had quite a crush on a girl who had come down with her boyfriend from Ontario.

"I remember it because Paul was my boyfriend for a while. At the time I liked him better because he was twenty, older than the rest of us, and I thought he was very mature.

Of course, he wanted the thing I was not going to give him, my virginity. I was very conservative sexually, most of us local girls were. You did not want a reputation that might damage your chances of a happy marriage. Of course, Paul did not push it, deep down he understood.

You may think it strange, Jen; we spent lots of time together almost always naked on the beach. We swam nude, we played soccer and volleyball nude, we did everything nude. I won't say our hormones weren't active, it was just that we never went beyond kissing and a bit of intimate touching and stroking.

Anyway, these two from Ontario, the boy was about Paul's age and rather shy. The girl was a year or so younger, still a bit older than me, and she was full of fun. We all liked them, but Paul was really entranced with her. I got pissed off...that's what you say, 'pissed off'. I learned that then. The two of them would go off together leaving us to look after the boyfriend. I could see how he felt.

For Paul it was what we call 'le coup de foudre'. They were only here for a week and then they were off to Spain. Paul was quite down afterwards, which was so out of character for him. I think he took it harder than the girl did. She went off with her boyfriend quite happily."

We talked a bit more and I realized for the first time that her English was really very good once she got talking. I asked her more about Paul, I was intrigued by him, perhaps just because I knew less about him. There was also no denying I found him pretty sexy. It turned out he had been married briefly but was too much married to his business for it to last. Solange felt sorry for the girl. Hadn't she too had a crush on Paul before she married Viktor? She finished by intimating that although there were no lasting relationships, Paul was never short of feminine companions.

Chapter Two

The following morning, I woke up to the sound of voices from the kitchen. I pulled on my sundress, virtually the only thing I ever wore down here, and went through to find Marti and Paul sitting at the kitchen table lathering some dark red jam on to torn off pieces of fresh baguette. They were laughing but stopped when they saw me.

"Hi Jen" said Marti "you remember mon Oncle, Paul."

"Of course, hello Paul. I remember when you so kindly invited us to ski at your chalet. It was beautiful."

"Marti has just been helping me finish the new addition. It's handy to have professionals in the family." I had forgotten that Marti and his father were builders.

"Are you staying here long?" I asked hopefully.

"No, I'm off to Narbonne for a meeting and then back to the chalet for the weekend to tidy up. Are you staying long?"

"No, Viktor will drive me to Toulouse airport early Monday, and I fly home to Toronto via Paris."

"How would you like to spend the weekend at the chalet? You can see the new addition. I would drive you to Toulouse on Monday. I can go back to Narbonne just as easily that way. It's beautiful in the Pyrenees right now. N'est-ce pas, Marti?"

Marti nodded but I had the sense he was hoping I would stay here.

"I'd love to. I'll have to check that it's all right with Solange and Viktor."

Marti looked to dejected.

"I must be off now. I'll call at lunch time and if it's OK I'll pick you up around four and we'll get to the chalet in time for dinner."

"It won't take me long to pack. I'm living out of my suitcase. I will need to wash some things at the chalet."

"Of course, well I expect I'll see you later then."

"I look forward to it. Maybe, if he has the time, Marti will come to the beach with me this morning."

Marti cheered up immediately.

When Paul left, I went to talk to Solange. She agreed I would enjoy a visit into the mountains.

"Just be careful of Paul. He can be quite the... how do you say 'seducteur'?"

"Seducer. Don't worry he won't persuade me to do anything I don't want to." I said choosing my words carefully.

When Marti and I reached the beach there was no sign of the group I had hung with. That was a relief. As I have said I always considered sex with Chantal's family off-limits. Marti was the perfect gentleman although he was constantly looking at me. I was tempted to tease him when I caught his eyes on my pussy lips. He was clearly salivating, but I told myself to behave, as I did have high hopes that I had Paul to look forward to. However, Marti's cock was already semi-erect, and as with all the men in that family it was quite an impressive sight.

Before he got too aroused, we went for a swim. Actually, we had several swims, every time Marti's manliness started to show. At one point he apologised for his lack of control and I said not to worry I would treat it as a compliment. And then on our last swim just when I was congratulating myself on my self-restraint, I accidently brushed against it. At least I think it was an accident.

We were standing together on a sandbar and gentle waves were lapping round our thighs. A bigger wave unbalanced one or both of us and the next thing I knew in steadying myself I had reached out and grabbed the nearest thing. It came alive in my hand. In an instant it was rock hard. Of course, I let go at once. Marti looked at me with a quizzical expression as he stepped off the sandbar into deeper water.