0 comments/ 61529 views/ 6 favorites Pippa's Provence Holiday Ch. 01 By: adoration I knew my niece Pippa was going to be trouble when my sister, Donna, told me: "She's fucking pushy, Jack, so don't let her trample all over you." Which was a bit rich, considering the way Donna trampled all over me whenever she felt like it! Donna is 40, two years older than me, and Pippa, her only child, is 19. I've not been in touch with my sister for some time, mainly because I'm bloody busy in my job as a photographer and secondly because I think we're both still feeling a little guilty over what we did when I was 18 and Donna was 20. Oh, it wasn't anything much. We'd both had too much to drink and Donna let me finger fuck her while she jerked me off. We didn't even kiss! Not that I wouldn't mind, Donna is a stunning brunette, not my type, maybe, but stunning, nonetheless. She'd called me around 7pm Provence time the night before Pippa's arrival. "I'm sending Pippa down to spend a month in Provence with you during her polytech break," said my sis, ever the demanding one. "She's flying BA to Paris on the red eye in the morning, then getting the 10 o'clock TGV to Avignon. So make sure you keep all those fucking floozies you photograph for those scandalous skin mags away for a month," said Donna, in a command, not a request. "For starters they're not 'floozies', some of them are the most beautiful and desirable women in the world," I informed my insufferable sister. "And for seconds, they're not 'skin mags', as you so crudely put it, they're adult men's magazines." "Yes, darling, of course they are," Donna cooed in her oh-so-fucking proper Roedean accent, "and everyone buys them for the articles and the interviews." I sighed, there was no point in arguing with my sister, she was married to some hoity-toity barrister who thought my job as one of the world's top photographers of stunning women was somehow demeaning to the family he had married into. "I've not seen Pippa since she was 12," I told Donna. "Tell her I'll be the guy on the platform wearing the Chicago Cubs cap, it's blue with a red 'C' on it. And it doesn't stand for cunt." Typical Donna. I had been in a mellow mood after a large vodka and tonic when I'd taken her call, now I was feeling fucking pissed off. I threw a steak on the barbecue and opened a big Aussie red – all right, I live and work in Provence, but some of the French reds are pure, unadulterated cat's piss. Give me a ball-tearing Australian shiraz any fucking day. Anyway, the next afternoon at 12.30 I was on Avignon station waiting for the Paris train to pull in, wearing my Cubs cap and my Cubbies T-shirt – the one reading "I'm a Cubs fan – wait till next year!" I love that team, the fucking useless bastards! I'd not seen Pippa, as I said, for about seven years and I was a bit taken aback when a short-haired brunette, standing no more than 5 feet 2 inches appeared before me, wearing a bright red leather bustier, which came to just above her hips, blue jeans which had been sprayed on and toting a bag over her shoulder. "Cubs – you must be my darling Uncle Jack," said the well- spoken, big-lipped, busty, pert nosed little beauty. "Pippa?" I said. "Did you wear that outfit all the way from Paris? How many riots were there on the train?" She laughed and went up on tiptoe to kiss me – I'm just over 6 feet and I had to lean quite a way down to peck her on the cheek. "No, silly, I put it on a quarter of an hour out of Avignon and there was only one riot," Pippa joked. I took her bag. "You travel light, Pippa," I said. "Three changes of lingerie, three bikinis, tooth brush, toiletries, three little dresses and two books. Mother said you'd have anything else I'd need." We climbed into my Maserati outside the station and I gunned it out of town as fast as possible. I hate towns. I live in a little place in mid-Provence, one of the gorgeous villages sort of built on a mountain, you've seen the brochures. When we arrived, Pippa walked to the wall surrounding the swimming pool and looked at the stunning view out over the valley. No prying eyes overlooked the two-storeyed former farm house. The pool was long and blue and warm. Down below us stretched fields of lavender. "Oh this is fucking heaven," said Pippa, stretching herself in the sun. "Show me my bedroom and I'll get into a bikini and we can sit by the pool and have a beer," she said. "I could drink the entire England rugby team under the table." I led her upstairs, showed her where everything was, then peeled off my Cubs' shirt and fetched two cold bottles of Kronenbourg 1664s from the fridge and placed them on the table beneath the vast sun umbrella. I was only wearing a pair of Tommy Hilfiger shorts, but I knew my well-muscled body looked good – live in Provence in summer, you get a great tan. If I thought Pippa had been a head-turner in her leather bustier at the train station, when she returned she was absolutely mind-bogglingly smashing. Now they always say men are tit men or leg men, as if you can't like both! Well, in Pippa's case I was definitely going to be a tit man! She was wearing trendy Armani sunglasses and Cuban-style wedged high heels, but it was her bikini that had me mentally drooling! It was nothing more than a trio of shiny black satin triangles, the upper two just covering her nipples, the bottom one barely concealing her snatch. I tried to make a joke of it, as she sat and sucked on her Kronenbourg: "You trying to give a 38-year-old a heart attack?" She grinned. "Oh get into the 21st century, uncle," Pippa said. "And those Tommy Hilfiger shorts are so fucking 1995. Go inside and put on a sexy thong – you have any sexy thongs?" I nodded. "Of course, I'm not totally senile yet," I said, sniffily. "Well go and put one on – it's 2005, uncle, tight, light and bright are the catchwords. Red would suit you, now hurry!" And like a schoolboy with his tail between his legs I did! Donna was right – fucking pushy. I've got a wardrobe of thongs – something I wear them when I'm photographing a model I really fancy and we've got some chemistry going. Anyway, I chose a red satin number, cut quite high on the hips, so my eight inches of uncut cock was easily contained within its confines. I stepped back on the patio beside the pool and tried to sit down quickly, but Pippa beat me to it. "Lemme see, uncle, don't be shy," she ordered, and I picked up my beer bottle and tried to act as nonchalantly as possible, bearing in mind my 19-year-old niece was eyeing me up! "Nice, I like what I see," she laughed, as I sat down, feeling my cheeks redden. "And tell me," she said, when I was seated opposite her again, "do you like what you see?" And with that, she plonked her beer down and stood up and walked round the table in a provocative hip-thrusting walk, just like a hooker on display. "You've got a great little body, Pippa," I said, trying to maintain a semblance of calm, "now go and sit down, there's a good girl." But she merely laughed at me. "Little body? Fuck, uncle, that's a bit of a backhanded compliment," said Pippa. "OK, so I'm only five two, but my tits are 38s, and the rest is 24-36. What's little about it?" And then the cheeky, pushy little bitch sat down in my lap and pulled the two little bra triangles apart and revealed her lovely large breasts to my gaze. I drank in the sight of her cherry red nipples erect and proud, almost no areolae to speak of. "What's wrong with these?" she inquired, knowing full well I couldn't drag my gaze from her lush teenage boobs. "Nothing, Pippa," I said, hardly getting my voice above a whisper, "now be a doll and go and sit down, please." Fat chance! "Bet you'd like to suck them," she continued, completely ignoring my request, and thrusting her left breast into my face. And I, to my eternal shame but unutterable pleasure, kissed her breast, then licked her nipple. It was from that moment, of course, that I was completely lost. She knew it, I knew it. As I kissed on her full, firm 38-inch breast, I couldn't help but notice that Pippa's right hand was delving into the bikini bottom, her fingers probing down there. Then she withdrew her hand and smeared her fingers all over the central part of her right globe. "Now taste this, darling uncle," she said, in a whisper which was almost a hiss. I moved my mouth from one glorious peak to another, only this one had been wettened by her pussy juice, which I could plainly smell as my nose came into contact with the upper stretch of her breast. The taste and the aroma were stunning. "Oh christ, Pippa this has got to stop," I protested. "Why?" she snapped, having the audacity to smack me on the back of my head. "Because it's insane – you're my sister's daughter." Pippa laughed: "Oh darling uncle, don't be such a fucking prude. If I'd walked up to you at Avignon and put on an American accent, said 'Hiya, handsome, how about a fuck?' we'd be in a motel room somewhere right now. "I saw the way you were ogling my tits in that bustier, so don't deny it." I gazed at her wonderful heaving breasts. "Of course you're hugely attractive," I said. "Right," she snapped, "now suck 'em." And with that she pressed my face back into her glorious mounds and I felt my mouth, with a mind of its own, sucking and laving at her. "That's better," she cooed, "now, shall I freshen 'em up? You like the smell of my pussy on 'em, agreed?" Well, I have to admit she had me there. "Yes," I breathed heavily, coming up from between her beauties and looking at her deep brown eyes. "But you know this is insane?" The little vixen, laughed at me. "No it's not, it's fucking sensible," she said. "I'm attractive and I'm randy. It may be illegal but it's certainly not insane. "And anyway – since it's illegal we can't get married, which means we can't get divorced, so we won't make each other miserable. And I won't have babies, 'cos I'm careful. Where's the problem?" And after she'd told me that, she pressed her fingers across her left breast. I licked her and inhaled her juices. Christ, she smelled so fucking sensational. "And something else," she said. "You really, really want me, because I can feel something jutting against the under side of my thigh, and I don't think it's a stick of salami, although it feels about the same size, you randy old fucker." "Of course I've got a fucking erection," I protested. "You're making me lick your breasts and you're smearing them with your sex juices. Do you have any wonder I'm hard?" "Well," she said, kissing me on the mouth and tasting young and vibrant, "you could be gay." And then I put my arms around her, picked her up and kissed her on the mouth, looking at the amazing way her big boobs maintained their stunning uplift against me. "I'll show you how fucking gay I am," I said and walked into the house and upstairs to my airy, high-ceilinged bedroom. She didn't say a word as I carried her upstairs, she just kissed me occasionally. Inside I pressed the door behind me shut with my heel and threw her on the huge double bed. She bounced when she hit the mattress! I pulled my thong off and revealed my eight-inch hard on, pre-cum gleaming at its hooded foreskin lips. As I did, Pippa lifted her buttocks off the bed and pulled away her scandalously brief little bikini bottom. A Brazilian peeped up at me, her labia lips lush, pink and inviting. Ignoring my usual approach, which was to give a new lady a long, slow licking down there, I climbed onto the bed and thrust myself at her. Pippa looked me straight in the eye, laughed as my cock trembled on the lips of her cunt and then said cheekily in a mock American accent: "Hiya, handsome. How's about a fuck?" And I thrust into her, my cock meeting absolutely not one shred of resistance as I entered her slippery, satiny smoothness. Pippa, for her part, was thrusting and grinding beneath me, kissing me on my mouth, and when she placed her heeled feet onto my buttocks I realised she hadn't removed her shoes. "Fuck me," she gasped, demandingly – as if I wasn't doing just that already. Despite the slight breeze blowing through the open bedroom window, sweat was now pouring off our bodies due to our erotic exertions, as we gasped, groaned and grunted in total lust. Then I raised my upper body slightly, pressed my hands down onto her fantastically firm breasts and felt that old, familiar surge in my loins. Pippa was banging her pussy mound against my pubic bone and as I roared in delight when my spunk shot into her, she called out, too. "Oh fuck, oh fuckit, oh fucking hell, I've come, I've fucking come!" she screamed. "I don't fucking believe it, I don't believe it." I collapsed back on top of her shuddering, sweat-streaked body and kissed her full on the mouth. "Why don't you believe it?" I said, still panting from the furious fuck. "Simultaneous fucking orgasms," she smiled at me, "I've never had one. You randy old bastard, you." "Well, they are rather rare in this house, I have to admit," I told her. "I usually try to make sure the lady comes first." "Nice guys finish last, eh uncle?" Pippa laughed, as she pulled out from under me and walked somewhat unsteadily to the bathroom, where I saw her plonk herself down on that typically French invention, the bidet, and clean herself of my semen. Back in the bed, Pippa smooched me slowly, then said: "That was one of the best fucks I've ever had. I knew you'd be good, mummy seemed to indicate you were sexy." I heard warning bells ringing – Donna, surely, had not informed her daughter of our long-ago indiscretion. Pippa spotted my hesitation. "It's all right, Uncle Jack," she smiled, "mummy told me all about the hand jobs you gave each other. Crikey, she could do with you now." "How come?" I asked. "Because my useless fucking father is about as sexy as a Mongolian maggot farmer," she snorted. "He's got a fucking middle-aged paunch and thinks that one round of golf a week is enough exercise – well, he calls it exercise. How can a round of golf that takes five fucking hours be exercise? "For the rest of the week-end he's in the Cock and Cunt, or whatever it's called, drinking with his cronies and talking about the MCC, changes to the lbw rule, or rugby. "As for mummy, she reckons the last time she looked down there she was growing cobwebs. Yes, she could certainly do with some brotherly love, right now." "And her daughter?" I asked. "How is her sex life?" Pippa sat up and said: "Fetch a bottle of fucking French champagne, you thick-cocked fucker and I'll tell you." From the fridge I got a bottle of Krug – no Australian stuff when it comes to bubbles. Bubbles is the French domain. I put two flutes on a tray and went back to the bedroom and poured two glasses. We clinked in a toast and Pippa told me: "You ask how is my sex life? Well, since about 15 minutes ago it's fucking fantastic, thanks. I've had a couple of boy friends, about my own age, but they come too quick, don't know how to satisfy a girl and usually drink far too much." Then she leant down and inspected my cock, now slightly less than eight inches, but showing signs of revival. Pippa planted a little kiss on its tip and then remarked: "Shaved shaft, shaved balls – what's with that, uncle?" I confessed: "It's my mistress, she likes it that way." "Your mistress?" smiled Pippa. "Oh, uncle, that's so French. Not girl friend, mistress. Tell me about her." "She runs a rental hire car branch at Avignon station," I told her. "Not that little blonde I saw you smiling at as we left the station?" Pippa asked. "Yeah, that's Yvette," I told her. "Yvette? Oh, that's lovely – that's so French, too." Then she looked at me impishly. "And tell me, being with a car rental firm, does she try harder?" I laughed: "No, I try harder." And I took the champagne flute from her hand, placed it on the bedside table, and bent down to look at her lovely snatch. Her labia lips were almost red, thick and lickable. So I licked them. Her aroma was intoxicating, her taste was like an aphrodisiac. One lick of my tongue from her cunt to her clit and I was instantly hard again. But Pippa had other ideas, playfully pushing me onto my back and squatting above my face. Her glorious bum then lowered itself to my face and I found my tongue laving away at her tight little brown anal bud, while the 19-year-old bent down and took my hard-on in her mouth and started sucking. She may have only had a couple of boy friends, but one – or all of them – had taught her how to suck cock! I tasted her sweet snatch, juice oozing from her as she ground her pussy around on my face, then decided it was time for firm action. Grasping her upper thighs, I pulled her from my face and turned her through 45 degrees. Still she sucked on my stiffy, like a limpet. Then I dragged my cock back from her voracious sucking, kneed her thighs apart and lay on top of her, stroking her breasts before cupping her firm young arse and lifting her slightly, so my cock could access her cunt. As I dived into the depths of her vagina, Pippa kissed me greedily on the mouth and whispered: "Take your time, uncle, let me enjoy you longer this time, please!" I kissed her on the mouth, lingeringly, allowing her to taste her own sex juices on my lips, then rolled her over until she was in the dominant position, keeping my thighs tight together, while she knelt up and assumed a sitting position on my cock. Her lovely lush breasts bounced an erotic, swaying dance as she humped up and down on my erection, and I put my hands up and cupped them, then rolled her thick, full nipples between my fingers, feeling their delightful erections. "Great nipples, Pippa," I whispered, as I fingered her there. Her reaction was to lower herself onto my upper torso, then bunch her fists on the bed and raise her breasts so they were almost in contact with my mouth. "So suck them, uncle," she panted, as she worked away on me. I opened wide and took a great mouthful of perky, teenage breast in my mouth, running my tongue around its full firmness, before sucking on the nipple itself, hard as a stone in my mouth. This brought a sort of panting from her, a panting of pleasure. "Oh that's so fucking great, now the other one," she ordered, and I switched my attentions to the other equally erect nipple. This was what sent her over the edge. I had only been sucking for about six or seven seconds – no more than 10, anyway – than Pippa's orgasm burst through her pussy. "Fuck me, fuck me, oh yes, oh yes, I've come!" announced my lovely little niece, as she soared skywards once more in throes of sexual delight. Then she collapsed from me, her body slippery with sweat, those gorgeous big breasts heaving. I, meanwhile, lay back with an unsatiated stiffy, my cock's foreskin pulled down to the thick ring thanks to the tightness of Pippa's young cunt. But Pippa had my interests at heart, the lovely little vixen! With a smile, she bent down and sucked on my cock, before taking a thumb and forefinger and pushing my foreskin back into its natural position. Bending lower, she again sucked on my stiffness, before looking up at me with a mischievous smile: "This tastes so fucking yummy, remind me to only suck you when you've been up my cunt, uncle." And then she started to stroke me, using just a thumb and forefinger, exactly the way her mother had stroked me all those years ago. She let my foreskin drag down an inch from the tip, then flicked it back up, then down, then up. Soon I was totally beyond any kind of control, and as I arched my back and stiffened my body, Pippa placed her mouth around my helmet and with two swift up-and-down jerks of her head, took the full force of my ejaculation, before pumping me to completion. Pippa's Provence Holiday Ch. 01 The 19-year-old sat up smiling at me, then deliberately showed me that she was swallowing my spunk! "You taste sweet and salty," she announced. "I think it's a taste I'm going to acquire." I pulled her down to me and kissed her, softly and gently. Pippa nestled against me as we sipped more of the Krug. "You know I'm really going to enjoy myself in Provence, uncle," she told me. I stroked her damp hair. "That's good, Pippa," I said. "And I think I've come up with a slogan for this place." "A slogan?" I asked. "What sort of a slogan?" Pippa giggled a schoolgirlish giggle. "Come with Uncle Jack – he tries harder!" To be continued. Pippa's Provence Holiday Ch. 02 Fucking typical, I thought. I had made the joke about trying harder because my mistress, Yvette, worked for that car hire company and here was Pippa adopting it like it her own line. Pushy, as Donna had said, and just like her mother. I reckon if I'd suggested to Pippa we do it doggy style, within a minute of starting she'd be claiming it was her idea all along. Anyway, I just laughed and slapped her on her adorable rump and suggested she get to work on her tan in the afternoon sun. "My tan?" she said, mock offended. "What's wrong with it? Not good enough for you?" I laughed and placed my bronzed torso alongside her. "Compared to me, missy," I said, "you look like a tub of lard. "A tub of fuckin' lard?" she laughed. "Watch it, buster." And we collapsed in each others arms, laughing and kissing. She may have been my bossy britches of a sister's daughter but already I felt comfortable and relaxed with her. And I knew several things about her – she was intelligent, she was sexy, she was fun. The fact that she was my sister's daughter didn't enter into it. I was besotted. Down by the pool, Pippa announced she would sun bathe naked – after all, as she pointed out, I'd seen everything there was to see. I put lotion on her lovely 38-24-36 body, which although it was beautifully proportioned was at 5 feet two inches probably too short to feature as one of my "skin mag" models, as Donna would have put it. I then plunged into the pool for lots of laps, while she baked in the Provence sun. Then she rolled over and called "Pool boy, my front please, and quick about it!" I laughed and climbed from the water, dried down and ran my lotion-covered hands all over lush full front nudity, aware that as I did my eight-inch uncut cock began to rise to pay homage to her firm, nubile figure. We dined early that – Pippa had had a long day. I did just rare steaks, a fantastic green salad, with olive and cheese from the village, all washed down by a huge Penfold's Grange, one of the world's truly great reds. It knocked her about, a sign that either she couldn't handle a big red or the previous three vodka tonics had taken their toll, along with her long day. After dinner, we cuddled in the fading sunlight on a shaded sun lounger and Pippa, hardly able to remain awake, slurred her words slightly but put her point firmly across. "Now, darling uncle," she told me, "I'm off to bed, I'm absolutely shattered. I'm really hot for you, but I think I should sleep in my own bed while I'm here, otherwise familiarity will extinguish the flame. Agreed?" I nodded, kissing her on her pert little nose. "Agreed, Pip," I told her. "Curfew ends at 6 o'clock," she announced, "so if you want to hop into my bed after that, then it's fine by me." I picked her up in my arms and carried her upstairs, helped her out of her flimsy little sun dress, tucked her up in bed, kissed her gently on the mouth and ignoring the stirrings of the old fella down there, walked quietly from the room. It was hardly gone 9pm! I enjoyed a quiet brandy and a fine Cuban cigar, then, around 10pm crashed. It felt as if I'd only been asleep for five minutes when I heard a sheet being pulled back from the bed and a warm, firm body snuggled up against my back and buttocks. I checked the bedside clock. It read 2.06! "What happened to the 6 o'clock curfew, Pippa?" I asked, sleepily, and felt her hand reach around me and start to stroke my cock, which, with a mind of its own, was starting to stir into action mode. "Oh, don't worry about that, Jack," she purred. "It's got to be six o'clock somewhere in the world – I think it's six in Sydney." "Sydney, Australia?" I laughed. "In Sydney's it's more like midday. It's probably around 6 in the morning in Thailand, give or take an hour." Pippa giggled: "Look Jack, are we going to argue about time zones all morning or are you going to fuck me?" Well, she had me there. My cock was standing up ready to perform one of the two tasks it had been designed by nature to perform and as I rolled over to face her, my hand felt between her thighs and found that she was also in performance mode. "Looks like a fuck, Pippa," I announced, moving onto her and sliding my stiffness into the lush warmth of her moist minge, driving into her up to the hilt, feeling our pubic bones bang together. Christ, she was a delight! I thrust into her sweet succulence, then detected her starting to gasp, so I rolled her over till she was bucking and bouncing on my cock, her breasts jiggling in the moon's eerie half light coming through the window. I rose sdlightly and sucked on one firm cherry, then the other and it only took a couple of sucks – honest – for her to scream out "Fucking hell, uncle, that's got me going, yes, yes, yes" and then she collapsed on my sweat-streaked chest, gasping what I took to be cries of delight. Pippa pulled from my erection and lay on her tummy and was soon fast asleep, her lovely body rising and falling in contented rest. I meanwhile looked down at her, cock stiff and unassuaged. The little user, I laughed to myself, and I lay back and slept fitfully until I was woken by the sun streaming through the window. I felt her side of the bed, still warm, but no sign of Pippa. I rose, showered, shaved, pulled on what I hoped my bossy little bitch would consider a suitably sexy little thong – a bright red number – and walked down to the kitchen. She was seated, clad only in a little black bikini, at the old oak table which dominates my kitchen, poring over proof sheets of some of my models. "Oh, hi uncle," she said, proferring a cheek for a kiss. "What have you got there?" I demanded, sniffily, bestowing a brief kiss on her warm cheek. "Oh, just some pictures, they're rather sexy," said Pippa. "Where did you find them?" I demanded, knowing damn well where she'd found them. "I was just going through your stuff in your office, uncle. Something wrong with that? Perhaps I'd find something you don't want me to find? Pictures of mummy, maybe?" "Don't be silly," I snapped, "I've never photographed your mum." "Well you should," said Pippa, "she's got a great figure for a 40-year-old. You could lie and say she's 34 or 35, no one would be able to tell the difference." I smiled at her naivety, as I prepared us coffee and omelettes. "There'd be no need to do that, Pip," I explained, as I started on the eggs. "There's a huge market for pictures of mature women who have kept their good figures and have a certain hauteur. "There's a lot of magazines with titles like 40-plus, and they've got nothing to do with the size of the women's busts. Men just love wanking to pictures of what the French describe as 'women of a certain age'," I told her. "So you'd like to photograph her. Would you like to photograph me?" asked Pippa, thrusting her 38-inchers forward in a provocative display. "No, that would not be a good idea, darling," I told her. "If people came across my trade mark pictures showing you in all your glory they'd probably put two and two together and very quickly arrive at four. No, modelling your lush little body for me would not be a good idea." Omelettes made, coffee poured, I sat opposite her and we enjoyed breakfast. "Yum," said Pippa, shovelling the eggs into her mouth somewhat indecorously, "you cook almost as good as you fuck." I let it ride, and then she pushed a spread sheet across the table to me: "And talking of fucking, I bet you did with her, eh?" The sheet showed about 24 pictures of one of my favourite models, a stunningly structured black woman, her skin gleaming like ebony by my pool, her pussy wet and inviting. "How can you tell, Pip?" I asked, smiling smugly. "She's got 'I've fucked you eyes' and she's got a really moist pussy that says she's looking forward to her next fuck," said Pippa. I laughed, and sipped on my piping hot black coffee. "Well for starters the moist pussy is there courtesy of the slightest application of Vaseline, which gives a perfect representation of an aroused woman's minge," I told her. "But you're right about the eyes. I had fucked her – and she was sensational!" Pippa grinned: "OK, I was half right – and was she as sensational as me?" "Now that would be telling. The jury's still out on that," I teased her, and she pushed back her chair, came round the table and rubbed her beautiful titties directly into my face. "I demand a re-trial," Pippa laughed, and I grabbed her round buttocks and pulled her into my lap, kissing her coffee-tasting mouth and running my hands roughly over breasts, feeling the erect nipples standing up in the shiny satin material. Pushing the chair back, I lifted her glorious little body into my arms and took her back upstairs, threw her on the unmade bed and as I pulled my thong off to reveal my cock in its "Ready for action" stance, Pippa lifted her buttocks from the mattress and in a flash was out of her bikini bottom, then her bra. This time I determined to adopt my preferred modus operandi on a fuck – cunnilingus, a quick taste of cock for her via fellatio, then intercourse. I knelt between her lovely firm thighs and tasted the incredible tangy pussy, its lips swollen and randy, her cunt dripping and in equally "Fuck me" state. Pippa gasped loudly as I went to work with my oral adoration on her fantastic fleshy pussy, grinding herself slowly on my mouth as I worshipped her teenager tenderness, flicking from anus and cunt up to clit and back down again until she was panting "Fuck me, Jack, fuck me!" I rose, but was not yet ready to allow her my shaft in her cunt, placing it instead to her mouth, where her sensually-thick lips accepted it way down past the ring, sucking on me like a pump. Hastily I realised she could, as one American president put it, "suck a golf ball through a mile of plastic hose", and I pulled away from the delights of her face to the equally delicious delights of her minge, thrusting smoothly but eagerly into her tight little cunt, feeling that wonderful tug as her vagina's walls tightened around my foreskin, dragging it back to its ring. Soon we had established a smooth, wonderful rhythm of fucking, her pubic bone thrusting down to meet me on the upstroke, her breasts standing up like beacons eager for the occasional suck and kiss and lick, as I pulled my mouth from her sweet-tasting lips and tongue to her tasty titties. Before long something had to give and it was Pippa who, when she announced a nearing orgasm, I found, meant she was almost on the verge of climax. Her warning of "Fuck me, Jack, fuck me" had hardly escaped her lips than she was panting: "Yes, yes, oh fucking yes, that's it, so fucking, fucking it!" And she had come. But now, she was not going to escape with a fuck and leave me unsatiated. Her announcement of completion was the signal for me to place my knees in her armpits and present my cock, its helmet pink and glistening from her sex, to her mouth. She opened her lips in an adorable "O" shape and took my cock deep into her mouth, sucking on me again with an energy that once more amazed me. I couldn't stand too much of it, and soon I was bucking and fucking against her face until, with a bellow born by my frustration that had begun building from around 2 in the morning, I pumped my seed down her voracious little throat. I stayed in position until Pippa withdrew her mouth from my stiffness, kissed it sweetly on the piss lips, then adjusted my foreskin until it again covered my helmet. Sinking down beside her, I kissed her slowly on the mouth and then entered her with my tongue, tasting as I did some traces of semen which she had not yet swallowed. Our tongues melted together, licking and assimilating my juices, until we fell apart, panting and laughing. Pippa then propped herself up on one elbow and smiled down at me: "Now, am I forgiven for delving into your naughty porn pile?" I looked at her in make belief anger. "Tastefully erotic glamour photography, you wicked little hussy," I laughed. Pippa grinned back: "And is that fuckin' jury still out, uncle?" I rolled on top of her and nibbled at her edible little nose. "Er, the jury's come back and it wants to re-hear some of the evidence," I told her. "Bastard!" she laughed, punching me on my shoulder and twisting out from beneath my body. "Well in that case, the jury's going to have to wait till this afternoon, 'cos I'm going out to lay by the pool and work through your proof sheets to find which ones of those models you fucked and which you didn't!" Outside, Pippa spent the rest of the morning lying naked on a lounger, flicking through the spread sheets, guessing – sometimes correctly – which models I had fucked, but more often than not getting it wrong, as I guess I would fuck maybe one in 25 of the women who get sent to me by the magazines and photographic agencies. Inside, in the cool of the kitchen, Pippa sucked on a Becks while I prepared lunch. Half-way through I took a call from my mistress, Yvette, the 25-year-old blonde from Avignon, who told me she'd not be arriving this evening, some stock taking or something, but would be here tomorrow for the weekend. "I've got my niece from London," I told her. "She's staying for a month. You'll like her – she's lovely, a bit pushy, but lovely." Yvette paused: "Pushy I can 'andle, it's lovely I'm a bit doubtful about, Jack!" We both laughed and hung up. "That was Yvette," I told Pippa, "she's arriving for the week-end tomorrow. You two'll get on like a house on fire." We lunched, then Pippa plonked down her empty beer bottle and leered at me – there's no other word for it. "Now let's get that fuckin' jury to make up its mind, Jack!" I picked her up, she was nude save for high heels, and we once more went upstairs to my bedroom and I laid her gently on the bed, then stepped out of my thong. Pippa lay back, stretching like a cat, her shoes still on, which somehow made her look more naked. "What's the jury want to know first, Jack?" she asked, smiling up at me. I knelt on the bed, cock swaying stiffly. "It wants to check the taste of the witness's pussy again," I said, lying between those wonderful thighs and licking the incredibly sweet, tangy-tasting minge. "What's the verdict, Mr Foreman?" she asked, after I had licked and laved there for a while. "Guilty," I grunted. "Next?" inquired my lovely little teenage niece. "The jury now wants to check out the mouth for fuckability or fellatio finesse," I said, rather childishly pleased with the alliteration of "fuckability" and "fellatio finesse". My cock rose to her mouth as I placed my knees in her armpits once more. Pippa's tongue snaked out and licked my ball sac, then ran up my shaft to my drooling cock head. Finally, she took my helmet in her mouth and sucked strongly on it, so strongly I had to pull out, for fear of an early ejaculation. "And next, Mr Fucking Foreman?" she asked sweetly. "The jury's next task is to test out the witness's tit fuckability," I said, trying to control my rasping, excited voice. I lay my erection between her 38-inch twin peaks and began a slow fuck ride between the lush firmness of her golden globes, my foreskin being pulled slightly back from the helmet on each upthrust. Fearing once more a hasty completion to my fucking, I pulled back from this intense delight and heard Pippa announce: "Now Mr Foreman, will the jury please fucking well get on with it!" "Just one more thing to be check out, witness," I panted, "and that's cunt cockability. Or, can the lady fuck?" "Thank fuck," said my filthy-mouthed little minx. "Just get on with it." And I plunged my eight inches of throbbing heat into her cunt, revelling again in the smooth, satiny tightness of her vaginal walls. But my pussy, mouth and breast checks had been too much for me. I had hardly started thrusting than I realised that I was extremely close to ejaculating. There was no chance of giving my witness her rightful orgasm, my lust was in charge and was going to enjoy itself and fuck her, pardon the expression. The surge started in my testes, roared into my shaft and then crashed out into her cunt, giving away the jury's verdict well before it was called on to deliver it orally! Pippa smiled up at me and kissed me tenderly on the mouth. "And tell me, darling Mr Foreman, has the jury reach a conclusion? It certainly feels like it." I gathered my thoughts as my cock started to dwindle and slithered out of her juicy cunt. Then I rolled onto my side and kissed her on the mouth. "Well, darling witness," I told her, "I'm afraid I have to tell you this is a murder case." "And?" Pippa asked, arching her eyebrows above those deep, brown-eyed swimming pools which were her eyes. "You're guilty, Pippa, guilty as charged." "Guilty of what?" she pressed me. I laughed: "Having a body to die for!" To be continued... Pippa's Provence Holiday Ch. 03 Over breakfast on a gloriously sunny Provence Saturday morning I told Pippa about Yvette, my lovely little blonde mistress from Avignon. "We've been an item for about six months, Pip," I told my lush-breasted 19-year-old niece, "and she's sensational. And while she's no prude, I'd be obliged if you didn't wear those ridiculous little strips of material you laughingly refer to as bikinis when we're by the pool." Pippa put on a dramatic pout. "Uncle doesn't want to see ickle Pipple's lovely ickle titties and botty," she said, in a ludicrous "little girl" act. "Unky wants to see a lot less of ickle Pipple 'cos it gives unky wunky a fucking hardy wardy," I replied in kind. Pippa laughed, and moved to where I was buttering toast. "I'll behave, but I don't know that I've got anything other than those 'ridiculous little strips' as you describe them," she told me, running a hand over the front of my jeans, provoking an instant stirring of my cock. "Well then, you can cycle into the village and go to Madam Boucheron's shop and buy one. I've seen some in the window and they're much more suitable for when my lovely lady's around," I told her. After breakfast Pippa did exactly that and while we were gone, Yvette's rusty old Citroen banged its way into the forecourt and the beautiful blonde climbed out. Her lustrous blonde hair fell to her sun-bronzed shoulders. A little black bikini top supported her firm 35-inch breasts, and a scandalously brief little pair of shocking white hot pants completed her outfit. It was almost as if she'd been to Pippa's couturier! The high-heeled beauty stepped into the hallway and kissed me greedily on the mouth. "'Ello, you lovely 'unk," she said, rubbing her bikini-covered breasts against my bare chest. Yvette is Sorbonne-educated and speaks perfect English but for an irritating habit of dropping her "hs", which was an affectation I knew drove British male tourists mad with lust, but pissed me off no end. "'Ello you 'orrible little 'arlot," I replied, because there are times when I cannot resist ribbing her about those dropped aitches. Yvette laughed, and stepped out of her hot pants to reveal an exquisite little black thong which matched her bra. "All right," she said, draping her pants across a kitchen chair, "where is she? I want to see 'er." I explained that I had sent Pippa to Madam Boucheron's to buy a semi-decent bikini, and Yvtte laughed. "For someone 'oo makes 'is money by photographing naked women you're very prudish at times, Jack," she told me. Just then, Pippa walked into the kitchen, her brow gleaming with perspiration from the long uphill incline back to my place from the village. "You must be prudish old Jack's lady," said Pippa, who had obviously overheard Yvette's remark. Pippa walked up to the blonde and kissed her on the cheek. "I'm Pippa and I'm going upstairs to try on my new bikini. I'll model it for you in a minute or two!" And she skipped off upstairs carrying a little brown paper parcel. Yvette looked at me with a raised eyebrow. "Jack, she's so pretty – you're a very lucky old uncle!" I stepped into her arms and kissed her full on the mouth. "I'm lucky because I've got you," I said. After taking off my jeans to reveal a small black thong, we went outside, lay back on recliners and sipped on cold Kronenbourgs while waiting for Pippa to put in her bikini modelling appearance. Minutes later, my niece emerged from the wide doorway off the kitchen and pirouetted around in a black bikini, which did nothing to hide the outline of her lovely breasts and buttocks, but at least covered them a lot more than her "string" jobs. Yvette, though, was far from impressed. "Oh Jack, that's dreadful – look what you've made 'er do! If she wears that 'orrid little thing for more than 'arf an hour she'll die of 'eat exhaustion," my blonde mistress informed me. "Pippa, darling," Yvette addressed my teenage niece, "go upstairs and put on one of those little bikinis that this old prude 'ere so objects to. I want to see it." Pippa grinned a broad grin, poked her tongue out at me and disappeared while I chided Yvette. "Those things are so brief they wouldn't be out of place in a porn magazine," I informed her. "Well, my darling," she replied, totally unfazed, "you should know!" There wasn't much to say to that, so I let it ride and sucked on my beer. Then Pippa made her reappearance. She had chosen the red "bikini", which consisted of narrow strips at her breasts – so narrow the outer edges of her areolae were visible – and at her pussy. The strip down there was similarly scandalously brief, so much that the outer sides of her lush labia lips protruded from the sides. Yvette, the little vixen, applauded! "Oh my god," she exclaimed, "that is so 'umungous!" And I know she chose the word "humungous" deliberately so she could drop the fucking "h"! Pippa, playing up to her, spun around and then stood by the side of my recliner, spread her feet wide and bent over, grasping her ankles. The bikini strap only covered the centre of her lovely little brown anus, and I felt my cock rising inexorably in my thong. "Oh Pippa, you look so magnifique," said Yvette, lapsing into part-French. "I'd love to try one on – 'ave you another like it?" Of course she has, I said to myself, and Pippa grinned at me again and poked her tongue out at me - again. "Come on up to my bedroom, I'll show you my collection," said my little vixen of a niece. "Uncle, you stay here," said Pippa, "and try to keep your hands away from your cock! We'll be back in a few minutes. In the meantime, fetch me a beer, this modelling is fucking thirsty work!" I rose, aware of my erection sticking out from my groin and thrusting pole-like into my thong, and collected three more Kroenebourgs from the fridge. Then Pippa and Yvette returned. Yvette had chosen a black version of the dental floss which Pippa referred to as a "bikini". I gaped at her lovely young figure, which I had, of course, seen naked many, many times. But I had never seen her in such an erotic state of near nudity! "Well, my darling," laughed Yvette, doing a passable imitation of one of those long-legged catwalk models, "'ow do I look?" She looked fucking stunning! "You look absolutely gorgeous, Yvette," was how I couched it for her. "Now let's all have a beer while I try to take my mind off the state of near nudity you two are in." But Yvette wasn't in the mood for sunbathing. "You know, Pippa," she said, looking at me with one finger on her pretty little chin, "I think 'e wants us. Look at 'is 'ard-on!" Well, it was true my cock was stiff in my thong. It's somewhat difficult to disguise a hard-on when you've got a small thong on over an eight-inch cock. Before I could attempt to counter Yvette's outrageous statement, the two women had stepped to either side of my recliner and reached out to grab my arms and pull me from my spot. "Come on, uncle," cried Pippa, "I think Yvette has plans for you!" And with that they half-dragged, half-lifted me from the recliner, into the kitchen and up the stairs. "On come on, this is insane," I remember calling out as they marched me upstairs, but I wasn't protesting too much – anyway, my erection in that darned little thong was speaking volumes, as it was. Inside my bedroom, Yvette took charge. "Let's get 'is thong off, Pippa," she said, "with our teeth!" Both women then knelt, one on either side of me, and took the narrow strips of satin on my hips in their teeth and dragged the garment from me, allowing that useless, give-away of a cock of mine to spring to immediate attention! "I'll lick 'is shaft from this side, you lick it from your side and then I want to kiss you when we get to the top," said my blonde mistress. I felt the erotic excitement as Yvette and Pippa's tongues licked against my stiffness, then traversed slowly up my shaft to the drooling cock helmet. Pippa sucked some of the pre-cum from me, then they kissed, open-mouthed, just above the tip of my penis. Yvette then stood, kicked off her high heels, stepped out of her string at her snatch and pushed me onto my back on the bed. "I'm in 'eat," she announced, "I need 'im!" The lovely blonde's almost hairless minge then poised above my hard-on before she impaled herself on me, my cock driving deep into her velvet-like vagina. I reached up and dragged the ridiculous little strips of material away from her globes and fondled her firm 35-inch breasts, glorying in the sight of their hardened little nipples. But almost instantly this lovely view was denied me as an equally erotic sight appeared – that of Pippa's heavenly-perfumed pussy lowering itself onto my face! Soon Yvette was humping up and down on my cock, while Pippa humped up and down on my face, my tongue coming into contact with her cunt, then clit, my nose buried deep against her anus. Next, I gathered that Pippa had leaned forward and was sucking on the French woman's hard little nipples, because Yvette started to let out moans, then cries as she thrust to a noisy orgasm on my cock. She comes quickly when I suck on her nipples as she plunges up and down on my cock – it's a sure-fire way for her to enjoy the Big O. After Yvette had calmed down, she pulled off my cock, the foreskin now peeled down to the ring owing to her tight little cunt, and Pippa immediately swooped, bending over and planting a soft kiss on my helmet before sucking me into her mouth, while my tongue paid earnest attention to her clit. Soon she was humping and heaving to her climax, and moments after she had come on me – I could tell the way the temperature of her randy little snatch soared – I came in her, shooting spunk into her mouth and grunting in pleasure, as my head fell back from her pulsating pussy. After sucking me dry, Pippa lay on one side of my sweat-stained body, Yvette the other. When I'd recovered, I turned and kissed Yvette on the mouth – the fact that my lips had been smeared by Pippa's pussy not bothering her in the slightest. "All right, mon cherie," I smiled at my little French mistress, "how did you know – and how long did you know for?" Yvette laughed a low, Gallic chuckle. "Darling," she chided me, "I may be a blonde but I am not stupid. The body language between you too was an obvious give-away. The way Pippa be'aves, she's obviously 'ot for you." "Hot she may be, but how did you know we were lovers?" I persisted. "The fact that you wore a thong in front of us both, the fact you were proud of your 'ard-on, the fact that you didn't really make any objections when Pippa put on 'er little bikini, or when I asked if I could try one on," she enlightened me. "And you have no objections?" I asked. "Why should I?" Yvette grinned. "Maybe 'er mother would 'ave, but Pippa is beautiful and obviously a 'ugely randy little beast. And since I've never 'ad a threesome, I thought it would be nice. I think it's going to be a very 'appy week-end." "Oh god," said Pippa, propping herself up on one arm and looking across at Yvette, "I just love that accent, it is so fuckin' perfect." "Thanks, Pippa," I said, sternly, "now she'll be dropping those aitches forever." "I think it's cute," said Pippa, flopping down on her tummy. "In fact I might do it – 'ow about that, huncle?" "Huncle" slapped her across her lush young bum. "Stop it," she squealed, "I like it!" We spent the rest of the day sunbathing in the nude – there seemed no point in the pretence of bikinis or thongs now we had all been intimate with each other, and for dinner I cooked a lovely fish dish which we washed down with lashings of French white wine. We were all pretty pissed when we trooped upstairs for bed and Yvette insisted we "tuck Pippa up in 'er bed". Still all naked we stepped into her room and my niece placed her hands on the mattress to steady herself, spreading her thighs wide. This produced a stunning sight of buttocks, fully revealed anus and pussy. "I think she's asking for a night-night fuck," Yvette whispered in my ear, and I placed my hard-on against my niece's cunt lips and drove my cock home. As I did, Yvette climbed onto the bed and placed her feet on either side of Pippa's body, thus presenting her perfumed pussy to my mouth. With my cock I enjoyed the delights of fucking my tight-cunted little niece, with my mouth I enjoyed the delights of a mouth fucking from my lovely mistress. Yvette stroked her nipples as I performed my oral adoration of her minge, then started to cry out as her climax arrived, then washed over her like a warm wave. The experience was so exciting I felt my climax nearing and for some reason, I pulled my cock from Pippa's cunt and exploded my semen onto the teenager's back. We all showered together, before I helped Pippa into bed and placed a chaste "Good-night" kiss on her cheek, then took Yvette to my bed. We were so fucked we didn't even cuddle, just lay back, warm and tingling, and slept. As the dawn chorus woke us, I stroked Yvette's pussy, which soon reacted by making my fingers very moist indeed. Then she knelt up in the doggy position and I entered her cunt from behind her lovely little buttocks. As I began the fuck strokes in her great little cunt, the door opened and in walked Pippa. She took a leaf from Yvette's book the night before and stood up on the bed, placing her minge firmly against my mouth and enjoying cunnilingus while I fucked my mistress. Soon Pippa's enthustiastic cries announced her climax, then I pulled out of Yvette's sopping wet cunt and sprayed semen all over back for mine. I dragged myself from the pair and Yvette stood up by the bed, a delightful French pout on her face. "'Ey, 'ow about me?" she complained. "When do I 'ave an orgasm?" Pippa, lying back on the tousled sheets, giggled and dragged the slender blonde onto the bed. "Now," she panted, and slithered down Yvette's naked body and placed her mouth against the French woman's aromatic pussy. To assist in the speed of Yvette's Big O, I lay beside them and sucked on my mistress's lovely little hard rosebud nipples. After breakfast, Yvette and Pippa took photographs of each other in the scandalous little bikinis, in the nude and Yvette in her more modest, though very sexy, little black bikini. There was a lot of splashing and crashing in the pool. After lunch, Yvette announced that she had to leave by mid-evening as she had to open the office up early on Monday morning. Later in the afternoon, out on my recliner, I must have dozed off what with the effects of the heat and a few Kronenbourgs, followed by a carafe or two of wine. When I woke, I found I was alone. I rose and walked, naked, into the house and upstairs. From my bedroom, I heard sighs and gasps. I poked my head around the door and there was Pippa, totally nude, her face pressed into Yvette's pussy. My mistress was sitting up, her back pressed against the head board, her hands stroking her nipples. Seeing me, Yvette opened her mouth in a big "O" and pointed a finger towards her mouth. I stepped up onto the bed, straddled Yvette's lovely body and placed my rising prick to her lips. Soon she was sucking me like a vacuum cleaner, as Pippa licked away at her minge. I pulled my cock from her eagerly working mouth as she articulated the joys of her orgasm, then pressed my stiff-pricked shaft back to her again and within moments I was pumping my salty seed down her throat. Afterwards, I slumped down on the bed and Pippa got up and lay on the other side of the French woman. Yvette kissed my niece on her mouth and spoke soberly: "Now, Pippa, when I arrive next weekend, I don't want to find lover boy 'ere all exhausted. OK?" Pippa nodded. "Understood, Yvette, but if he is, then you can always enjoy me." Yvette smiled, then added: "Of course – and we've forgotten something, I think. You 'aven't 'ad your orgasm!" And with that, she slid down until her face was opposite Pippa's pussy. "Yvette, you're so understanding," said my niece. "You don't mind sharing uncle with me, you always make sure I have lovely orgasms." Then Yvette's mouth started its oral adoration of Pippa's perfumed garden. "What's the way you put it, Yvette?" said Pippa, as she lay back and luxuriated in the cunnilingus she was receiving. "I 'ave the 'ots for you!" And Pippa roared with laughter at her own joke. Yvette said nothing. She was far too busy to comment. To be continued. Pippa's Provence Holiday Ch. 04 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...