African Safari Ch. 02

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A dad and his daughter gets naughty in the car.
3k words
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Part 2 of the 3 part series

Updated 09/22/2022
Created 03/06/2012
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Second leg of the African Safari. It might be smart to read first leg first. I hope you will give me feedback -- that is my second biggest thrill...

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I lost Ms Chequered Skirt in our hurry to get through passport control and get our luggage. My sister, Christine, was all chirpy and happy, obviously having slept ok, and looking forward to our three week vacation in the African bush. My mood was not in the same shape. Though I had the experience of my life in the plane cabin last night, I hadn't slept much, and were in a desperate need of a huge and strong coffee.

"Do you see my bag? Now almost everyone else have got theirs, and mine isn't here yet!" My sister started to patrol the luggage belt to see if she could spot her backpack. I didn't bother to tell her mine wasn't here yet either, but she spotted that soon enough. "What's up with this? Why are we the only ones without bags? What kind of start of a vacation is this?" She had started on a steep emotional downhill, and I knew from experience it was my job to stop that.

"I'll check with Lost Luggage. Just wait here, sis."

The cute, huge racked, lady behind the counter at Lost Luggage managed after half an hour to locate our backpacks. In the meantime I got my fill of oogling titflesh. She was enormous, and showed it. "Your packs are on their way with another plane now. We'll be able to get them to your hotel late tonight," she said, and leaned forward to give me another deep peek down her cleavage. I knew we couldn't do much about the delay, and gave myself a mental pat on the back for packing clean underwear and toothbrush in my camera bag. I never checked in my camera bag. My sister hadn't had the same foresight.

"No bags? I can't go in these clothes for a whole day! In the heat in this country I'll start to stink faster than you can say deodorant!"

"Tell you what, sis: We'll get the transfer to the hotel, and then we'll go shopping. I could probably need some new shorts anyway. My treat."

That was the magic words, it seemed, and Christine's mood started to climb to the same height it had before the luggage incident. She hooked her arm in mine, and started talking about all we would see and do the next week as we passed customs and entered the chaos that was arrival waiting hall. "Do you see anyone with our name on a sign?" Christine scouted the whole area, but to no avail. We split up and really started to look for our driver, but found none. Time to use the phone, I thought. It was a smart move.

"He waited for sooo long, they told me. So he left the airport. Probably because of the backpacks," I told my sister. "But there is another driver coming over now. He is supposed to pick some others of our group. They asked us to wait at the coffee shop, and he'll be here in 30 minutes."

Travelling in groups is always a bit of a gambling game. You may get a fantastic group and have a great time -- or you may get a nightmare on your hand. I started to scan the area for another couple with backpacks, but couldn't find any. We got ourselves some coffee, and tried to relax at one of the tables at the coffee shop. After ten minutes a middle aged Englishman asked if it was ok to take the table nearest ours, and I just smiled and nodded. Good call again. He waved at someone, and two lovely but very different women entered the shop: The oldest of the was a lady of perhaps 40. Dyed, blonde, shoulder long hair, perfect makeup, black office pants and a white blouse, and of course with pearl ear rings and necklace. She had a nice ass, and I would guess a 70C/32B bra size. What really caught my eyes -- and my breath -- was the young woman right behind her: Probably 17 or 18 years old, natural blonde hair in a ponytail, big, beautiful green eyes, a super short mini skirt of the kind I use to call "a belt", and a couple of high standing 75D/34C breasts struggling to break free from a tight fitting pink top. Mind you, dear reader: I didn't really know their breast size, but I like to try to guess them -- and I think I have become pretty good at it! My cock liked what I saw as well...

"John! Manners!" My sister scolded me -- with a smile. She had caught me staring at the revelation before me, but during the next 20 minutes I caught her trying to steel glimpses of the man at the neighbor table as well. He was dressed in the masculine version of the older woman: suit pants and shirt. About my height, some stubbles on his cheek from the day before, and proper salt and pepper hair. My sister would probably call him handsome, but I knew she would use the term "yummy", if she would describe him to one of her friends at home.

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I had almost finished my coffee as a young Caucasian man in his early 20's approached our table. "Christine and John Johnson?"

Yes -- that is my name. I have heard a lot of jokes along the lines of "John Johnsons Johnson". My parents planned to call my sister Anita. She is sooo glad they didn't. Even though she needs one...

I nodded and stood to shake the man's hand, but his eyes had already found my dear sister. He had real problems with keeping eye contact with her, his eyes drawn to her 75H/34E boobs. "My name is Dirk Van der Heeren. I am here to take you to your hotel. Pleased to meet you."

"Pleased to meet you too, Dirk," my sister answered, and to my astonishment she pushed her breasts out a little as she shook his hand. "I cant wait to get to the hotel. Is it a nice place?"

"It is beautiful, but not as beautiful as you, Mrs."

My sister gave a short giggle, but I couldn't help myself and laughed out loud. "Nice line, Dirk! I am John, and you're lucky she is my sister and not my wife!"

His eyes widened at my 'threat', but when he saw my grin he grinned back. "Sorry about my bluntness, but you are a very beautiful woman, Mrs. Johnson. Or is it miss?"

My sister smiled at me and half asked me "Is it miss or Mrs. while I am separated, John?"

"Go for miss, sis. It suits you better."

"Miss Johnson, then. Have you seen the other people of your group?"

I shook my head. "We don't know the two yet. And I haven't seen anyone looking like they're on their way into the bush either."

Dirk looked a bit insecure for a moment. He took a piece of paper from his back pocket and looked at it. "Ah! I got a bit confused there, but my list says I am supposed to pick up three others. Mr., Mrs. and Miss Evans."

That made the middle aged man by the table next to us stand up from his seat. "I am Patrick Evans. This is my wife Eileen and my daughter Julie. We don't look much like bush campers, I am afraid -- but we will in due time, I promise." He smiled to Dirk and then extended his arm to shake hands with me and Christine. When he took Christine's hand I saw her ample chest grab his attention as well. But being a more experienced man, he quickly moved his gaze to her eyes, and smiled friendly. "Nice to meet you both. I'm sure we'll really get to know each other."

I don't know if Christine was disappointed or not, but our young driver lost all his attraction towards my sister as soon as his eyes fell on the young Julie Evans. He made sure to carry her suitcase on our short walk to the garage, even if the rest of us used trolleys. All the way he tried to chat her up, but Julie Evans was obviously not impressed. She kept herself close to her dad all the way. Her dad, on the other hand, was very impressed by my sister. The two of them kept talking and getting to know each other all the way. That left me walking alone -- admiring the shapely ass of Eileen Evans as she click-clacked on her high heels out of the building.

When we entered the garage I started to get a bit uneasy. All I could see was normal cars -- none looking big enough to carry five passengers and a driver. "Dirk? What kind of car do you drive?" I asked.

"Oh, it's a nice car. I've got air conditioning and everything."

"That's nice," I smiled. "But how many passengers can you take?"

The look of insecurity made a comeback on Dirks face. I knew my guess was right. He couldn't take us all. "I didn't think of that. This is the car," he said, and stopped by an Audi A6 Coupé. "I'll call my boss and ask him what to do. I am so sorry!"

"No reason to call, kid," Mr. Evans said, before he turned to Christine and me. "My wife gets car sick easily. I hope you don't mind if she gets to sit in the front. The two of you gets one seat each, and Julie can sit on my lap." I almost volunteered to have the hot little Julie on my lap. I sure wouldn't mind!

"The drive is an hour and a half, Mr. Evans. Are you sure that's ok with you?" Dirk said hopefully. A confirmative reply from Mr. Evans set us in motion, loading the car with all our stuff, and then trying to find an ok way to organize ourselves in the back seat.

Eileen had taken her spot in the front seat, and didn't seem to care if the rest of us sat ok. "I think I am trying to get some sleep. The flight was terrible, and you know how my car sickness comes more easy when I am tired, Patrick." Mr. Evans looked rather apologetic at the rest of us, but I really didn't blame him. He was the one having another person on his lap for the next hour and a half. And while I would have loved it, I guessed a father wouldn't be that happy with having his young daughters ass grinning all over his lap.

Dirk started the car and navigated us out onto the highway towards Pretoria. "It may be a good idea for all of you to get some sleep. This trip isn't very entertaining, I am afraid," he said. Christine, Julie and her father pretty quick seemed to fall asleep, and without anyone to talk to, I started to feel the lack of a good nights sleep start to have it's effect.

I don't know how long I had been sleeping when movement to my left stirred me out of my sleep. I didn't open my eyes, just woke up and tried to fathom where I was and what was happening around me. The movement was sort of rhythmic, or should I rather call it monotonous? I slight shaking like someone shaking their foot... or shaking something completely else? My mind was filled with pictures of a girls hand giving a fast hand job. But that couldn't be, could it? To my left was Mr. Evans and his daughter, and they surely couldn't...? Then I became aware of Mr. Evans ragged breathing. I just had to grab a glimpse of what happened. I eased my left eye just a bit open, and through the tiny slit I saw Julie sitting with her head on her fathers right shoulder, eyes closed. Her ass was planted on his knees, far enough from his lap for her to be able to give him a vigorous hand job with her right hand, while her knees were pointed my way. Her fathers right hand had found its way under the tight pink top, and was roughly kneading his daughters big breasts. Now I heard her low whimpers each time he squeezed.

I knew what I saw, but I really couldn't bring myself to believe it. Father and daughter behaving like sex starved teens in a packed car, with their mother and wife in the front seat! They seemed totally transfixed on what was happening between them, but it was obvious that Mr. Evans had his eyes on his wife's head all the time -- ready to stop the show if she seemed to wake up. I decided it wasn't my problem if they caught me watching them, so I let both my eyes open up, and watched with interest and a growing erection as Mr. Evans started to lift his daughters top up and over her breasts, freeing them totally for his gropes, and my enjoyment. And what a joy it was! They had looked spectacular in that top, but when freed they seemed perfect: huge, firm, not a hint of sag, big areolas and the tiniest nipples, which now stood proud and hard from the arousal. A triangle over each of her breasts was lighter than the rest, but still not quite white. Young Julie obviously sneaked a day or two of letting the sun caress her bare tits, but most of the time they had been covered up. I wondered if she went topless when just her and her dad was around?

The incestuous couple continued their fun, with me watching and getting more and more uncomfortable with my hard dick trying to break free of my jeans confines. Suddenly Julie opened her eyes and looked straight at me. For a second she stopped jerking her fathers cock, but then a dirty glint showed in her eyes and she licked her lips and smiled at me before she started milking Mr. Evans cock again. My eyes moved from her hand to her breasts to her eyes, not being able to decide where to look. She just kept staring at me, mouth partly open and her little pink tongue making frequent visits to her lips. I formed a "wow" with my mouth and winked at her.

She smiled even wider and then gave me a look that said "You haven't seen it all yet!" And that I hadn't. Julie stopped playing with her dad, turned her head towards him, and mashed her lips against his. Then she put her right hand on her fathers knee, her left on the back of the seat and lifted her self up from his lap. He seemed to know what was about to happen, because his hand sought out her panties, pulled them to one side, and gave me a nice view of her clean shaved teen pussy. A drop of her pussy juice was evident on her blood engorged pussy lips. Without more foreplay she slowly impaled herself on her fathers dick, letting him all the way inn. He let go of her panties, and in the process her skirt fell down and covered their union. All the time they kissed passionately, with wild tongue action. Mr. Evans groped her breast again while Julie started lifting herself slowly up before she let her pussy slam down on her fathers lap again. The fucking became more and more frantic, but never so obvious that anyone else would notice.

Or would they? I shoot a quick look at my sister, but she seemed to be asleep. Next I checked the rear window -- and there I caught Dirk watching the action more than the road. His face was flushed, and as far as I could see he did not have his right hand on the wheel. I winked at him and turned back to the action beside me.

Julie had dropped her had back on her fathers shoulder, and was again looking at me as she fucked her father. Her eyes had grown misty, but she still looked me straight in the eye as she wriggled and lifted and sank back down again. Her breathing came in short gasps, and I think I saw her mouth word "I'm bad! Do you like it?"

Mr. Evans suddenly grabbed her tit hard and held on for dear life. His hips jerked upwards and her eyes widened. I could almost see in her eyes each time he sprayed her insides with his cum. On the third spray, she bit down on her own knuckle and started to shake. It was too much. I had to do something not to wet my pants with cum myself! So I closed my eyes and thought of glaciers, work, gardening and I don't know what. It was hard trying to not come just by the movement next to me. But after a short while. They went still. I opened my eyes again, and saw Julie lift herself off her father and pull her top down again. Mr. Evans had his head leaned back and eyes closed while he packed his sodden cock back in his trousers.

Julie looked over at me again, winked and licked her lips. Then she went back to rest her head on her fathers shoulder, but this time it seemed so much more innocent -- more like it should look when a daughter sits on her fathers lap, trying to get some sleep.

The rest of the trip I didn't get any sleep at all. My mind kept playing the film in my head over and over again. I had just witnessed pure, raw incest. Wow!

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  • COMMENTS
1 Comments
clive2007clive2007almost 12 years ago
good

Maybe the English isn't as good as a native speaker's, but I could understand everything with no problems. I was hoping the checkered skirt gal would re-appear. Maybe she will if you write a 3rd chapter. Anyway, your story telling is quite good, I thought, and keeps the reader's interest. I like your idea of these women liking sex so much that they partake no matter where they are or who they are with. I wish that attitude prevailed here in puritanical USA. Anyway, well done.

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