Nice Family Vacation Ch. 01

"I'll have to take your word for that."

"But you have sensitive things there, too. Doesn't it hurt?"

"I'm good." The way her breasts bulged out to the sides under her looked almost as hot as when she lay on her back, so I still needed the pain. "How did it feel being topless in front of...all these people?"

"The strangest combination of powerful and defenseless. You know the least likely girl to show her boobs in public is me, so this is so far outside my comfort zone. Knowing they were looking at me turned me on a little, if I'm honest about it."

"How did knowing I was looking make you feel?"

Instead of answering, she said, "Join me for a swim?"

Large flat rocks smooth as glass lay under the shallow waves. A few steps out, Alyssa's foot shot off a slippery rock, her feet lifted up in front of her like a cartoon, and she landed painfully on her little ass. I should have guessed, but I suppose I never contemplated how falling on your ass makes boobs fly around in the most remarkable way. Taking my offered hand, she struggled to her feet, and together we inched hand in hand across the rocks into deeper water, where her boobs floated and we could swim.

So much adrenaline coursed through our veins that we started splashing each other like we were 7 and 10 again, and I'm sure her squeals carried all the way down the beach. Don't ask how, but I somehow choked back the urge to grab those bouncy, floating boobs right there in front of me.

Not somehow—she's my sister, and in all those scenarios worked out the night before, grabbing her breasts in public worked out badly. It's not like we could avoid each other for a few days, and if my parents got wind of it—well, they did invent the Guillotine in France.

Alyssa lay on her back again when we returned to our towels. Watery beads clung to them, and once in a while, one rolled down. Once they dried, she rubbed schmoo over them again, bringing on another boner. This time, I decided not to hide it. I wasn't wearing a Speedo like most of the men drooling over my sister's titties.

On the way home, we stopped for wine, then again at a few patisseries along the way. I loved anything made from pears, a taste totally ignored in the States; Alyssa loved anything filled with crème, so we sampled each other's sweets, too. Hell, I'd have eaten anything in those stores. Anything.

Our parents were out, probably visiting another Medieval cathedral. While Alyssa showered, I sat on the balcony with a glass of White and remembered every single detail. Every curve, every pastel shade, now tight her nipples were when she got out of the water. The gooseflesh.

Her bikini bottom dripped from the towel bar when it was my turn in the shower. I just couldn't take it anymore. Still sporting wood, I hung my bathing suit next to hers, sat on the closed toilet seat and began pumping away.

Just before I came, the door opened. I have no fucking clue what she was doing, whether she wanted to catch me getting into the shower to make us sort of even or just goofing around or if she simply did not hear the shower and forgot I was there, but the door swung open and she walked right in.

The moment she saw me, she froze in mid-step, her wet hair flying out when she suddenly stopped. Her jaw dropped, probably like mine did when her boobs first popped out the bottom of her tee-shirt, green eyes bulged enormous, and she watched as my wad shot halfway across the bathroom.

"Oh, hell!"

"Sorry," I said as my next shot of jism shot out, not nearly as far and kept stroking, because it felt so damn good and I needed the relief after hours of nonstop sensual torture and temptation. She slammed the door behind her, and by the time I finished, the tile needed a thorough cleaning.

Explaining was useless. We both understood exactly what happened. I only hoped she had done the same in her shower, maybe using the handheld shower head on herself, between her legs. Not that she should because she had seen her big brother topless her whole life, at pools and the beach, even around the house. Today was nothing different, nothing special. Not like it was for me.

From spending a day with the most beautiful breasts on the Riviera to abject humiliation. Even by my standards, an epic failure.

#

Following the prematurely sticky end to my beach trips with my topless sister, we resumed sightseeing with our parents. Alyssa and I avoided even looking at each other, although when she turned away, my eyes followed her. Dressed conservatively sent a message impossible to miss.

At just over 300 years old, Nice Cathedral is centuries newer than most in France. Still, our parents toured it, and we followed along. Did the detached white bell tower alongside also scream out a painful reminder of yesterday, like it did me?

Afterward, we went to the splendid Russian Orthodox Cathedral, like our parents were trying to tell us something. This one was only a century old and looked like it belonged in Moscow, not the South of France. I was in a little alcove when I heard footsteps behind me.

"I owe you an apology." Alyssa stood there looking adorably contrite and restrained. Even after the day before, she had an innocence, perfect for inside this church.

"Don't be silly; I should have locked the door."

"Not about that." Those green eyes looked up from the floor, into mine. "Had I known how it would affect you, I never would have put you through that yesterday."

Okay, I was confused. "Put me through what?"

"I put you in a terrible position by asking you to go to a nude beach with me. It never occurred to me how seeing me naked might cause conflicting emotions, in both of us."

"What conflicting emotions do you have?"

She began rocking like a shy little girl giving a presentation in front of a classroom. "Same as yours, I suspect."

"I don't understand."

After checking over her shoulder to make sure the coast was clear, she asked, "When we came home and, you know...were you thinking about me?"

"Does honesty still count?"

"I am being honest with you."

Well, then, here goes! "Yes, I was thinking about you. Does that bother you?"

"No, I suspected that."

"How did you feel when I looked at your body?"

"Warm and afraid. Wrong as I know it was, it felt good and I wanted you to look at me—to enjoy looking at me. I wasn't that afraid about a bunch of French strangers seeing my body, I was afraid of you seeing me."

"Afraid of what?"

"Afraid you might not like what you saw."

"How could any man look at you and not like what he saw? I may be your brother, but I am also a man who can recognize beauty when I see it."

Whispering even quieter and venturing a step closer, she asked, "Isn't it wrong for us to feel that way?"

"Probably. It's also probably natural." I looked around at the religious icons everywhere around us. "I've never been to confession in a church before. Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned."

"Forgive me, brother, for I have sinned." Before I could ask her any of the thousands of questions spinning around inside my head, she turned and left me alone in the alcove.

Outside, we trailed behind our parents, out of earshot, although we avoided saying anything improper. Our hands brushed against each other a few times as we walked. Vincent van Gogh came to paint in the South of France because of the colors here, and her emerald irises were the most beautiful color in the city. We followed our parents into a patisserie.

"This is so delicious," I said, eating mine.

Alyssa asked, "What is it?"

"No idea, but it looked great and tastes even better."

"Can I try yours? I will trade you a taste of mine."

Mine, some sort of puff pastry thing, crumbled under a fork, so rather than cut her a piece, I lifted up what was left. Rather than taking it with her fingers, she leaned down and took it with her mouth straight from my fingers, her lips closing over my fingertips. It was hot as fuck! So hot, in fact, I expected my parents to explode.

"Anyone want to try mine?" Mom held up half a Napoleon, which everyone cut a sliver from. Pop offered samples of his apple torte, and I looked at Alyssa. "Don't you owe me some of that?"

Hers was a puff pastry topped with crimson cherries and sprinkled with sugar. She bit half off, then held up the rest for me. Like her, I bit it out of her fingers, and with a little shove, she got fingers inside my mouth, too. It was getting insanely hot in there.

"Anyone else want to try another one?" Alyssa addressed her question to our parents, to break the sexual tension.

"I need to walk this one off, I'm afraid," Mom said.

Pop said he did, too. "Why don't those of you with high metabolisms have another? We've got a dinner reservation for six, so meet us at the hotel by 5:30 and we should be fine."

Behind the counter, a worker was putting a dozen white pastries shaped like breasts on display. My sister giggled. "Oh my gosh! What are those?"

"Qu'est-ce que c'est?"

"Capezzoli di venere," she answered with a grin.

"Deux, s'il vous plait," I turned to my sister, "because they always come in pairs."

Alyssa's skin glowed a brilliant red as we each lifted a Nipple of Venus, as I now know they are called and I held mine up as a toast, and she bumped her nipple against mine before we took bites.

"Oh, these are amazing," she said, still blushing, "you, on the other hand, are terrible!"

Innocently, I asked, "What?"

After dinner, we drank red wine as a family at one of those tiny round sidewalk tables and felt très French. I could not take my eyes off my sister, and she looked everywhere but at me. Still a bit jet-lagged, we all were tired by 9:30 and went back to our suite. Mom and Pop said goodnight and left us.

"Now we have to share a room for the night."

"Is that going to be a problem?" She shot emeralds at me as an answer.

I blocked her way into the room when she emerged from the bathroom in her PJs. Bulky and unflattering, she dressed for a cold night months away. Her finger poked me in the chest. "You should put on pajamas and get into your bed."

"Aren't you going to be hot wearing that?"

"I am going to be safe wearing this. And don't ask me if I would be more comfortable without this top, so I don't have to lie about it." Her hand had remained by my chest, and she began wiping it as though brushing off lint, and it didn't pass without notice that she brushed where breasts would be if this was her chest. Then she pointed to her bed. "I should probably..."

"Yes, you should."

Instead, she continued wiping imaginary dirt from me. "Tomorrow, do you want to stop for more of those nipple pastries?"

"They were delicious, weren't they?"

"Funny, I always pictured you more as a butt-guy. Look at what I've learned about my brother on this family getaway."

"Oh, I like breasts. I liked those, and I like yours." Using the back of my hand, I brushed away lint that may or may not have been on her breast. She allowed it, for two or three light strokes across the round bulge inside her pajama top before stepping away.

"We can stop on the way back from La Reserve--if you will go there with me."

"What is La Reserve?"

"It's another beach," she said as she slowly walked around me. "It's close—we can walk from town. They say it has a diving board 20' high where you can swan-dive into the sea. Oh, it's a topless beach; I hope you don't mind."

This just might be a better vacation than I dared to imagine.

Not THE END. Our Nice Family Vacation was just beginning...

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