I’m dedicating this story to the delightful Melissa, a lovely young lady from the islands who’s been a faithful reader and kind commenter on my stories for some years (married three times already she’s a sexy young thing who’s left a slew of faithful admirers in her wake…).
And seeing this is my official Winter Holiday Contest story I’d like to wish you all a healthy and happy new year… And hey, remember: it’s you the reader who decides the winners of these contests with your votes.
FYI: Approximately 5 LITEROTICA pages long the following is an Incest category story. It describes consensual sex between eighteen years old and older family members. It’s a love story. Enjoy!
1 – Miami Beach, Florida, 7:30 pm, Monday November 21st 2011
“SIT,” dad ordered as both Paloma and I started to get up from the dinner table.
I looked resignedly over at my sister as we both slid back down into our seats. We both had recognized his tone.
“Your mother and I want to have a talk with you,” dad added unnecessarily.
“I’m pretty busy dad… studying … I’ve really got to get going,” I protested as I again pushed my chair back from the dining room table.
“Me too daddy, big exam coming up,” my younger sister quickly added as she jumped to her feet.
“SIT!” he ordered, his dark eyes drilling into mine.
“Please Bobby, your dad and I have something important to tell you and your sister,” mom said, interrupting me.
Both sis and I were wondering what we’d done wrong this time… as if we didn’t know.
“Your sister’s going to be home on Wednesday night…for Thanksgiving Weekend,” dad finally started.
Looking across the table I could see that sis was as confused as I. What’s Melissa got to do with this I wondered as I turned back to watch dad at the head of the table. For seconds he said nothing, a very rare occurrence for my father.
“And…” sis finally encouraged.
Dad still said nothing but then mom started up, asking, “You know we visited Melissa three weekends ago up at her college?”
Were we complete morons? Of course we knew! I looked guiltily across the table at my younger sister, knowing she was wondering the same thing as I — had they somehow got wind of the wild Halloween party we’d held when they were away?
Our parents lapsed back into silence when sis and I said nothing. As I looked expectantly back and forth between them I couldn’t understand their reluctance to get at it. Maybe they were hoping we’d admit to our sins.
“There’s a problem with Meli,” mom finally whispered.
“Whaaaat? Is Melissa sick?” Paloma screeched, asking the question that had risen to my lips at almost the same instant.
“Not exactly,” dad finally answered after staring at mom.
“Not cancer?” I asked a millisecond after that dreaded word had popped into my head.
“Of course not! Your sister’s just bringing somebody home for Thanksgiving,” mom blurted in response.
“WHAT?” both sis and I ejaculated.
“A friend,” dad said.
“A girl friend,” mom added.
“What’s that got to do with her being sick?” I demanded, now having no idea what the hell we were talking about.
My father, who had no ability to beat around the bush, suddenly spat out loudly, “Your sister’s become a lesbian.”
“Whaaaat? A LESBIAN?” I asked as I broke out into a grin, then laughter.
“You don’t suddenly become a lesbian Carlos,” mom instructed dad before turning to me and saying in her most firm and adult voice, “It’s not a laughing matter Roberto.”
I looked over to sis who had her hand covering her mouth and was clearly struggling to keep her laughter from joining mine. Both of us knew with absolute certainty that our sister, Melissa Carmela Martinez, was not a lesbian. Neither of us would ever forget the afternoon we’d spied on her as she’d lain writhing and moaning under her then male sweetheart. As he’d pumped his cock into her pussy.
“It’s perfectly normal,” mom insisted to my still smiling face that displayed my disbelief so clearly. Then I watched as she flashed a warning glance at dad.
“Being a lesbian isn’t normal mom,” Paloma chimed in. Which was a big mistake! Because for the next twenty minutes mom expounded, in a way only our mother was capable of, on women, sexuality, homosexuality, liberalism, religion, feminism, gay marriage, and on and on until the three of us forced to listen to her speech were glassy eyed.
I finally stood up and fled without a word.
2 – Miami Beach, Florida, 9:30 pm, Monday November 21st 2011
Dad was sipping a beer while he watched a hockey game on our thirty-seven inch flat screen TV when I entered his den and private sanctum an hour later. “Hockey?” I asked disbelievingly, knowing that dad had absolutely no interest in the sport. He simply mumbled and then turned back to the screen. I knew he wasn’t watching the puck.
“Another beer?” I offered as I moved to the fridge behind the bar. A quick, almost imperceptible nod Escort was his only reply.
I opened two Coronas and carried them back to the couch where I flopped myself down on the opposite end from dad, then stretched out an arm and handed him his. He looked at the beer in my other hand but said nothing. Although he knew I’d had the odd beer in the past this was the first time I’d ever attempted to just have a casual beer with my old man.
Another small nod came from him as he brought his beer to his lips and then half drained the bottle in one long gulp.
“You never should have sent her there…that school,” I finally ventured after taking a drink from my bottle.
“I didn’t send her to the bloody school,” he spat out, sending beer flying as the spittle left his mouth.
“They’re all lesbians at those schools, everyone knows that,” I added, ignoring his outburst.
“Thank you Roberto for that wonderful advice. Mind you it’s about three and a half years too late.” Dad’s deep, booming Latino voice echoed his displeasure around the room.
“Why’d she have to go north anyway…among all those lesbian Anglo Saxons. I mean what was so wrong with going to Miami and living at home? I am. A Latina girl up there-“
“Roberto,” dad started and I could almost see the smoke coming from his ears, “your sister, who happens to be half anglo-saxon, and your mother, who is one hundred percent bloody anglo-saxon, chose the school. Against my advice as it happens-“
“Still,” I interrupted.
“Roberto,” he warned, every syllable of my name a warning to drop it.
“So what are we going to do about it?” I finally tried after we’d silently watched a couple of minutes of hockey.
“Your mother believes,” and dad’s tone conveyed quite clearly he didn’t agree, “that we should just let it run its course, that-“
“Yeah but what are we going to do?” I interrupted.
“This weekend you better be on your best behavior,” dad warned but with no real conviction in his voice.
“Have you talked about it with Dr. Singh?” I asked. Dad nodded quickly. “What did he say? Can we cure her?”
“He said it’s complicated… That we have to find out what kind of lesbian she is.”
“Huh? Kind? How many kinds are there? What do the various kinds do differently?”
“How should I know? He said just to watch them this weekend…see whats going on…don’t do anything differently,” dad stammered. “Then we’ll talk after Melissa has gone back to school, make a game plan.”
“Maybe I should talk to him,” I offered.
“ROBERTO,” dad warned again.
“But you’re not going to let them sleep together when they’re here are you? Do whatever lesbians do at night, when they’re naked?”
“They will not be sleeping together in this house,” dad promised in a voice that brooked no argument.
“Have you ever heard anything crazier?” I heard whispered into my ear forty-five minutes later. I jumped about three feet.
“Christ Paloma… you’ve got to stop that!” My younger sister, who’d just turned eighteen, a high school senior at Joseph Marti High, just grinned at me as she leaned over my shoulder and looked down at my computer screen.
“Stop what?” she asked with a grin.
“Stop sneaking up on people like that.”
“You’re checking up too aren’t you? On lesbians,” she said as she ignored my comment.
“Dad says we’re to act normally, not say anything,” I reported from my earlier conversation from dad.
“Yes, but what are you going to do?”
We talked excitedly for the next hour… my sister Paloma was the crazy member of the family.
3 – Miami Beach, Florida, 10:30 pm, Wednesday November 23rd 2011
Mom, not trusting either dad or I not to blurt out something inappropriate in the main concourse of Miami International Airport, had insisted that she and Paloma would pick up the “girls” as she referred to them. “You’ll meet them here in our home, politely,” she’d instructed dad but also included me when she shifted her eyes to mine.
I don’t know what dad or I were expecting but Emmanuelle de Bonheur certainly wasn’t it! She could best be described as a long haired, blond, runway super model with breasts. Tall, in fact easily as tall as my five foot nine inch older sister, and perfectly proportioned, she walked into the Martinez living room to find two dark haired Latino men standing with mouths agape. She was an instant hard-on generator.
“Bonjour, I’m Emmanuelle… call me Manny, you must be Meli’s father,” she said softly in a lilting French accented voice as she took my father’s hand in hers. The high heels she wore just accented the curves of her calves and the length of her legs. Legs which were left amply displayed for us by the tight, hip hugging mini skirt that barely covered her delightfully rounded French derriere. Her pointed breasts, braless, moved freely under an ivory colored silk top. In her heels she was as tall as dad!
As dad stammered out a reply I felt my cock start to fill with Escort Bayan blood. “And you must be Rrrrroberrrrto,” she purred with a husky sexiness as she turned to me and gave me a hug while she planted a soft European kiss on each of my cheeks. Even though the hug just lasted seconds there was no way she missed feeling my cock as it butted up against her stomach. Great start I thought as we broke apart. My sister’s lover had a twinkle in her eye as she moved back away from me.
We all sat down finally. We had drinks, dad even serving underage Paloma, something he’d ever done before, and we all acted as though everything was just perfect. A loved daughter and sister bringing a friend and lover home to meet the family.
Later, Emmanuelle was assigned Melissa’s old bedroom, which in her absence had been converted into an upstairs den/playroom, while Melissa was gently ordered to bunk in with her sister. I’m pretty sure that my father patrolled the hallway outside my sister’s room all night long.
4 – Miami Beach, Florida, 11:00 am, Friday November 25th 2011
“Are you coming to the beach with us today Roberto?” Emmanuelle asked when she came into the kitchen and found me sitting at the kitchen table a day and a half later.
She was barefoot and was drying her hair with a fluffy white towel. All she had on was a pink tank top and a pair of white boy shorts that would have made a Hooter’s girl blush if she’d been told to wear them.
“Beach?” I asked as I took in the body my sister was apparently making love to on a regular basis. A very hot body.
“Meli said she’d take me. Where’s Paloma, she can come too.”
“She and mom went out,” I answered as my brain tried to quickly figure out if this was a good idea or not. I could watch them I thought… talk to them… get the scoop with innocent sounding questions… maybe find out what kind of lesbians they were. I hadn’t had a chance the day before. The beach would be the perfect place I decided. The hot sun just might loosen her lesbian tongue.
“Yeah sure,” I finally answered, “South Beach?”
“South Beach what?” I heard from the doorway and turning saw Melissa in the doorway. She was also drying her hair and didn’t have much more on than Emmanuelle. I watched as my sister held out her hand and then intertwined it with her friends. Emmanuelle gave Meli a quick kiss on her lips before putting her arm around her back. I just knew they’d been making out together in the shower. This is so fucked up I thought as I watched them. They both definitely needed some quality time with Mister Penis!
“I asked Roberto if he wanted to come to the beach with us.”
“But… I don’t think…you did?” Meli stammered.
What’s her problem I wondered. Heck, we’ve been going to the beach together all our lives. She probably wants to make out with her or something I thought as I answered, “I told her I’d love to go… that is if you don’t mind.”
“It’ll be okay Melissa,” the blond French girl assured Mel.
“Are you sure?” my sister asked.
“It might be fun,” Emmanuelle answered, giggled, gave me an appraising glance, then winked at me and then hugged my sister.
What’s this all about I wondered as I watched my sister’s mouth gape open.
I found out about thirty minutes later, after I’d grabbed a quick shower and had gotten my beach stuff together. When, after driving to Collins Avenue, instead of turning right and south towards SoBe, Melissa turned the car north.
“That’s the wrong way,” I shouted from the back seat. “Heck, you go away to school and you forget where the beach is?” I asked sarcastically. Of course there was no way my sister could have taken the wrong turn.
“Manny wants to try the other beach,” my sister said softly as she kept her eyes on the road in front of her.
Manny? Mel and Manny? Sounds like members of a boy band and not two lesbians I thought. “What other beach? We’re not going to Hollywood or Hallendale Beach are we? Fort Lauderdale sucks.”
“No… not there,” my sister answered.
“It’s called Allover I think,” Emmanuelle said in her sexiest French accent as she turned in her seat and looked back at me. “I found it on the Internet.”
“WHAAAAT!” I exclaimed when I’d figured out she’d meant to say Haulover.
My sister finally turned and gave me a quick glance before she turned back to the road. Her face was beet red. Which was almost an impossibility for a girl with her dark Mediterranean skin. “In France its normal to go naked on the beach,” Melissa tried to explain.
“You’ve never been there Roberto?” my sister’s lover asked.
Of course I’d been there! With my buddies. But to look at the naked female tourists, not to take my clothes off and hang out.
“You sunbathe nude?” I asked as I tried to consider the implications of going to the world famous Miami nude beach with them.
“Always,” Emmanuelle answered as her eyes looked deep into mine, “I love to feel the sun and the water on my naked Bayan Escort skin.”
Fuck! “But…but I’m a man,” I finally stammered out.
“I’ve seen naked men before,” she answered and in a tone that clearly conveyed to me that she hadn’t seen these naked men only on a nude beach. “I’m French,” she added when she saw the confusion on my face. As if that explained everything.
As we continued the short trip north it actually wasn’t Emmanuelle I was worried about, instead my thoughts turned to Melissa. I was going to see my big sister nude? She was going to see me? How gross was that? And what would dad think? As if I didn’t know…that’ll be a fun conversation I thought as we turned into the Haulover parking lot.
Within seconds of our arrival at the beach and our choosing a spot to lay out our towels and things, Emmanuelle had casually and quickly pulled off her top and shucked her shorts. Then she stood proudly naked in front of us, posing for us.
“C’mon you two,” she finally laughed as her hands circled my sister from behind , hugged her and then started to lift Melissa’s top up.
“Maybe we shouldn’t… I mean with Roberto here and everything,” my sister protested even as she lifted her arms and allowed her girlfriend to bare her. Melissa’s full round breasts were left resting in a lacy white demi bra. “Manny… please,” she protested as her lover undid her bra and let it fall to the sand. For seconds Emmanuelle cupped Melissa’s breasts, hiding them from my staring eyes.
“Your sister’s so beautiful Roberto,” she said as she watched me. “Beautiful, beautiful breasts,” she added as she let her hands fall and exposed the dark areolas and thick, erect nipples of my older sister. They were! Tits to die for. Emmanuelle may have had an extraordinary pair of tits but I wouldn’t have traded five sets of them for the breasts my sister was displaying.
I watched spellbound as this beautiful blond Frenchwoman slowly pulled my sisters shorts and panties down and exposed her sex.
“You’re shaved,” I blurted as my eyes took in the bare lips and slit that sat at the juncture of Melissa’s legs. My sister, now blushing furiously, tried to turn away from my probing eyes.
“I shaved her,” Emmanuelle said proudly as she held her lover against her. I watched as her hands slid from my sisters hips down between her legs and slowly pulled her apart, exposing Meli’s pink insides. My cock was suddenly huge.
“Don’t,” sis ordered as she escaped from her lover and sat down on one of the towels.
“And of course Melissa shaved me,” Emmanuelle said as she stood watching me, her legs spread in an invitation to me to look. I did. And as I let my eyes slowly move over this incredibly sexy Frenchwoman I realized I was going to have no problem in learning everything I wanted to know about these two. But did I really want to know?
“Your turn,” Emmanuelle finally said, her challenge clear. I saw Melissa quickly look up.
“Maybe later… I don’t want to get burned or anything… I think I’ll go for a swim,” I delayed, not wanting them to see my hard-on.
“It’s normal Roberto, normal for a young boy to get an erection his first time on a nude beach, especially an American,” Emmanuelle said in a condescending tone. Her eyes were smiling though, challenging me!
Young boy? First time? American? Fuck you, I thought as I watched her laughing eyes. “It is?” I asked as I pushed my shorts down my legs. I heard two gasps.
Emmanuelle recovered first and said with a giggle, “They usually aren’t that big though.” Then she licked her lips provocatively.
And so I spent the afternoon on a nude beach with my sister and her girlfriend. And I slowly learned their story. My cock was hard about fifty percent of the time! Emmanuelle didn’t seem to mind.
I learned how the two prettiest girls on campus had ended up rooming together in their second year at college. Dating an endless stream of boys from Dartmouth and Harvard and Yale. “We know all about men Roberto,” my sister’s lover said casually.
“Don’t,” Melissa cautioned, knowing that Latino men didn’t have the same casual attitude towards female members of their family sleeping around as Frenchmen apparently did.
“About penises,” she added as she ignored her friend.
“Maybe its better if I don’t know everything,” I tried to discourage.
“Beer and football, frat parties, that’s all these American boys know,” Emmanuelle said dismissively. “And then, when they’re drunk enough, they think every girl they run into wants to suck their little penises.”
“MANNY,” sis protested.
“And as to any foreplay, most of these boys can’t count to three let alone find a clitoris with their tongue–“
Jesus, I groaned inwardly as I listened to the French girl.
“But Melissa knows what to do with her mouth.”
My eyes flashed to my again blushing sister. I think I was blushing as bright as she was. Does this French babe always talk like this I wondered silently.
“It just happened,” she said as she looked down.
“It was the massage therapy course we took,” Emmanuelle announced.
“You took a course in massage therapy? At school?” I turned to my sister. “What kind of College are you going to?”