Neighbours Pt. 02

Sam's semester ended first, just by a few days, so she was the first to be picked up from her bedsit. Some of the other girls wanted to party with uni friends first, then party at home. Sam decided she wanted to be home as soon as, and naturally I got the job of collecting her.

"Well," said Elaine, "You know the route."

Knowing arguing was pointless, and hoping I wouldn't get lost again (hmmm, that porky-pie could only be used once), I rang Sam to ask her to get her stuff together. Friday evening would be terrible for traffic, so I set off Saturday morning just before Christmas shopping traffic kicked in.

Sam let me in, big hugs, pleased to see me. Ann-Marie was there too. Her trains to London/ Dover and ferry were booked Sunday; cheaper and easier for her family to pick her up in Calais. I was surprised to get a hug and kisses from Ann-Marie, but then wasn't it the French who invented kissing?

"Oh! Monsieur Harry. You areformidable. My hairdryer, it is work every day." Another kiss.

Perhaps the French took kissing too seriously at times, but who was I to complain?

"It's my pleasure, for a beautiful young lady."

"Ok, Sam. The car is outside (one benefit of locals Christmas shopping. I didn't have walk far with Sam's stuff).

I looked around. No nicely heaped items to transfer. Typical Sam.

"Oh, dad. I've a confession to make. Two, in fact. Firstly I haven't had time to pack. Can you help me?"

"And ... "

"Secondly I spent my last tenner at the pub last night. I can either borrow some money off you to buy you a birthday present, or ... "

'That's no problem,' I thought. 'You could gift-wrap a few pairs of accidentally unwashed panties.'I figured the raspberry-tinted ones were due around now. I liked a bit of variety.

"Or? ..."

"Well Ann-Marie wanted to thank you too. And we got talking after we'd had too many lagers ... and I kinda got bragging about you being bigger (she parted her hands to demonstrate) and much gentler and much more experienced than all the boys we know. That includes Ann-Marie too. The boys in France are even less considerate than over here."

"Sam, she tells me you like my boobies." She laughed. "It was me, I know. I showed you my boobies by mistake." She laughed again, perhaps nervously.

Just what had been said after several bottles of student-night specials, I don't know. But I had then feeling that this was all rehearsed.

"You like much to see, yes?" said Ann-Marie, already unbuttoning. "Is bit small, but you like,oui?"

Several more buttons. OMG Peter was already straining for liberation.

Ann-Marie's cotton shirt was now revealing all.

"And you English men. You all like seema chatte."

Deftly unzipping her skirt, it barely hit the floor before a pair of all too plain panties followed.

Ann-Marie'schatte, previously resembling a mini fur coat, had been neatly trimmed. Perhaps (assuming this was rehearsed) Sam had offered some tips, and a compromise had been reached.

"Wow," was all I could muster. After the fastest ever striptease I was lost for words, something that Elaine will verify rarely happens. My mouth remained open for several seconds.

"Is not good?" Ann-Marie offered. "You fix my hairdryer. Is good, I thank you, no?"

All the while Ann-Marie stepped closer.

"You think is not good? You cannot see?"

My daughter, my darling sweet innocent daughter, had meanwhile, unseen behind me, quietly stripped too. Hell, this wasn't a very good striptease show but who wad bothered? Not me.

"Why don't you sit down?" Not a question but a request. Sam tugged at my arm. I had Sam to the right of me, Ann-Marie to the left. Both facing me, totally naked, save neon yellow ankle socks to the right and plain but grubby white knee hi's to the left.

Sam needed a little help from her sister. One semester's worth of hair was obscuring a much prefered view. Ann-Marie, in contrast, had tidied up considerably.

"You like touch?" said Ann-Marie. "Sam say you have gentle touch. Come."

Fucking hell! My birthday, Christmas, New Year, wildest fantasies ... everything had arrived all together.

Ann-Marie moved closer, real close. Took my hand. And as if I had any doubt understanding her French accent, my fingers were placed exactly where she intended them to be ... herchatte.

With Ann-Marie holding my attention I could feel Sam unfastening and unzipping my pants.

It didn't take long for me to take over. Kinda like 30 milliseconds. Ann-Marie's pussy hair, having not, I thought, been subjected to many trims, was very soft. Virgin soft, except that I was certain she was no virgin. Her pussy lips were a little longer than many. The devine essence of pussy was present in liberal amounts, the scent deep and musky. The middle finger of my right hand was decidedly wet as my left hand moved up to stroke first one, then the other of Ann-Marie's nipples. As might be expected, her small titties were quite firm.

As I felt an insistent tug at my pants, I eased myself up to allow Sam to remove them, quickly (but gently, for I was absolutely solid) followed by my CK's. Ann-Marie shivered involuntarily. With continued attention this girl was going to cum very quickly. Following Peter's release she looked down and gasped, eyes wide open. Some words which I couldn't understand escaped her lips. But her concentration soon returned to what my fingers were doing. Somewhat quieter than Sam, she soon allowed the procession of sexual pulses to envelop her body.

By now, Sam had also persuaded me to part with my upper clothing. Save the various pairs of socks, neon, knee-hi and sports varieties, we were all naked ... and therefore equal. I never did give much for this recent CFNM idea.

"Don't you need to be starting to pack?" Offered Sam.

"I will do it soon. I have not thank Monsieur Harry enough yet. I weel go soon."

My recently overworked'grand saucisson'(A-M's description) was next in line for attention. I got the feeling that, being French, she fancied a taste. Before I had the chance to object, she was on her knees. The French seem to have a taste for certain uncooked meats. A-M wasn't going to miss out.

Perhaps not as skilled as my daughter, she nevertheless had a good attempt at deep throating me. It just wasn't going to work though. After almost choking herself she settled into making the best she could. BJ's thankfully don't need translation. Though a little rough with her teeth, within a few minutes I was spewing cum into her warm wet mouth. And the bonus was that Ann-Marie swallowed every last drop.

Content that she had fully thanked me, and to some extent having taken a hint or two ftom Sam, Ann-Marie left us alone, her panties donated as a birthday gift. Just WHAT had Sam told her about me?

"Come here, dad," said Sam, almost as soon as the door had closed. "You owe me a few kisses."

So it was Sam's idea after all.

I duly obliged. No longer did it feel wrong, father and daughter naked (except socks of course), hugged together, mouths locked together as if in a lovers' embrace. It felt right. Perfect for that moment. My tormenting angel was far away from that room, completely engrossed in last-minute Christmas rehearsals. My gut felt that tingling, butterfly feeling. It was right, oh yes, it was very right.

Sam was utterly entranced, hyped up, tingling with a kind-of forbidden excitement. Her jaw totally relaxed, as was mine, our mouths were fused, as if one. As we kissed I was very aware of her full breasts against my chest. Skin touching skin once more, her nipples were swollen, full, alive and transmitting every touch, every aroused nerve directly to her pleasure brain. I could sense, as the kisses deepened in intensity, a change in her breathing. I could almost hear her heartbeat. Perhaps she had been turned on by Ann-Marie sucking me off. Perhaps, maybe, jealous of the attention I had given the young French lady. I don't know. What I did know was that Sam was on heat.

Peter, my best friend, had taken a nap, and quite rightly so after Ann-Marie's unexpected attention. He had now awoken, refreshed, and stood to salute the special love Sam and I were sharing. Sam noticed too, gently stroking him so that he did not feel unwanted.

The softness and coolness of Sam's fingers made a ripple of sexual sensations run through my spine, my arms and my shoulders. It was pure bliss. Gently, she pushed me over to her bed. Then she spoke:

"Dad. I've thought this through and through. I want you inside me."

"No Sam, that's a non-starter." I should have expected that. The last time I'd been there it had nearly happened, her cunt lips on the very tip of my cock, a fraction of an inch away from closing over it.

"YES, dad. Very much yes. I just can't stop thinking about it."

Her weapons of mass distraction were massaging all of my chest. Her kisses were divine. Her hands had moved to my butt, squashing Peter, trapping him, massaging him with rotations of her hips.

"And what if mum finds out? It could split the family."

"She won't. Just let me try. Not much, if you want. Just a moment inside, just the tip of you to see how it feels. Just once, dad. Just today. I won't ask again.*

I badly needed my conscience angel. I badly needed just one foolproof excuse.

Naturally, the devil threw doubts in. I'm a man. A good fuck is second nature. At times ANY fuck is desirable. What harm could there be in a quick fuck? Yes, quick, and then we'd gather Sam's stuff and drive home.

'And drive home. My seed, the remains of my cum store inside Sam.'

As if reading my thoughts, Sam continued her gentle persuasion. Tits massaging my chest. Pubis moving insistently against my rod. Another gentle push and I was laid on her bed. I figured if I let her lead my guilt would lessen.

Laid flat on Sam's bed it was easy for her to mount me. Legs astraddle me she lifted herself up. Holding my pole she gently eased the head inside her. Just a little at first but her female juices had prepared her. A little more and all my cock head was neatly inside. I knew Sam was no virgin but she was tight, her young muscles holding strong. The sensation was bliss, out of this world. Now a little more ... Sam easing things along. Perhaps two, maybe three inches inside her and she was well aware of my girth, filling her as she'd not been filled before.

More now. Three, four inches. Sam raised herself up and down, pleased at feeling full. The sensation was new to her and the look on her face told me all was going fine. Five, six inches and I wss almost completely inside her. Each lift and fall of her leg muscles gave both of us so much pleasure. Seven , eight inches and all that remained visible were my balls. I could feel her cervix. Nature told Sam to ease off, but I couldn't have any more of me inside her; she had taken my full length.

Gently, slowly, thoughtfully Sam began to raise and lower herself. I couldn't remember any time when I had such a delightful sensation. Every move she made was utter pleasure, not only to me but, it seemed, to Sam as well. Liken it, if you will, to a brand new motor car engine. Tight compression, perfect lubrication. Everything manufactured to a tiny fraction of an inch. But I wasn't pumping. Sam was milking me, her vaginal muscles sucking me. Had I been on top I would have naturally speeded up but Sam was relishing the experience of being completely filled.

Speed up she did though. The feelings inside of her were building, as each stroke not only coaxed reactions inside her vagina, but the skin pulled taught around her clit. The faster she went, albeit graually, the more the skin pulled. The more it pulled, the better the stimulation of her clit. Faster and faster she went. More and more the expression on her face told me this was good. The better it felt, the faster she went until ...

We both exploded. Almost, but not quite together.

I wasn't going to quiz Sam about her experiences with boyfriends. She was popular but far from stupid. After cumming so noisily I expected it to be all over. It wasn't. Sam slowed, using whatever stimulation was left to maximise her pleasure. Having been milked for the second time I was amazed that this also prolonged my orgasm. But all things cum to an end. Reluctantly we got dressed, gathered together her stuff, packed the car and made our way home.

The rest of the time until Christmas was like any other year, sending cards to people you hadn't seen for years, office parties galore, credit cards maxed and stores packed with screaming kids.

And under the Christmas tree?

A neatly wrapped packet, containing 7 pairs of assorted lacy, silky, skimpy panties. All worn just once. Tucked inside was a note from Sam. 'Just ask, anytime you want them refreshed.'