Pussy Juice by the Cup Pt. 01

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Babes

This is a story about my sister and her daughter – my just turned 18 niece who has a life-shortening illness and wanted, well, some new experiences while she was healthy.

This story picks up with me and my sister Jenny almost 20 years after the events in ‘Um, both, I guess’. Jenny and I did a lot of stuff in between, and I will write that up one day, but I wanted to get this story out first. This story is mostly true, call it 80% true.

I should also add, that like ‘Um, both, I guess’, this story is all about the build-up and the surrender. If you want a fuck by the second paragraph, look elsewhere.

My name is Ian. I am 39 and live with my wife (Jill, 35) and kids (Ivan and Jenny) in a town in a few hours from Sydney, New South Wales, Australia.

This all happened because my brother-in-law, Ricky, is a prat. Ricky is married to my sister Jenny. I have changed all names in this story, but it is true that both my sister and my daughter (also called Jenny) have the same name because both were named after a famous ancestor.

Jenny-sister and I have been sexually intimate since we were, as the saying goes, barely legal. But, this story is not directly about me and Jenny-sister. You can read about us in my story ‘Um, both, I guess’.

The events in this story happened just last summer. I really wanted to write about it immediately but I also wanted to give some context so I decided to first write the story of me and my sister as teenagers. That took a while and then life got busy and delayed me writing this…

Ricky, my brother-in-law is rich and fond of reminding people of that fact. On the plus side he has a beach house. It is in a tiny resort settlement in the north of Australia (could be Qld, could be NT; I’m not telling). The settlement started life as a bunch of fisherman’s shacks around a lagoon at the mouth of a river.

Ricky’s grandfather built one of the first shacks so he could go fishing. A few decades later surfers discovered the place also had a great break. 70 years later there are now a few dozen homes within a 20 minute drive. (In this neck of the woods that is high density housing).

The homes range from helipad-in-the-back-yard to rusty caravans. A handful of residents are year-round, but mostly the ‘weekenders’ (what we call holiday homes) are empty till summer. When school is out it is like one of those nature documentaries about the desert after a rain storm; over a single weekend the settlement springs briefly back to life.

The original fishing shack was right on the beach but a long time ago they swapped it for a larger block of land back from the waterfront that wasn’t so affected by storm surges from the regular cyclones that tear through every few years. (Cyclone is what we call a hurricane in the Pacific Ocean – for any USA readers). The new block of land just had a prefab hut that the family used for years and years, until Ricky made his money and began building the House yeah, whenever he said it you could hear the capital “H” in House).

Ricky’s house is not too flash but is large. He had an old wooden villa — an abandoned farm house – transported to the site on a truck and added a lean to with a couple of extra rooms. And of course all fitted out to better than most people’s family home.

Moneywise, things have been tough for me and my wife Jill for a long time. The second birth was difficult for Jill and she needed to take some time off work because of bad postnatal depression.

It has been better since I quit teaching and moved into doing landscaping for businesses. I like the money but have developed a contempt for the vapid rich folk who employ me. Yes, I can admit I am envious.

We have been getting by reasonably well on my salary but we can’t often afford a holiday. So, a few years ago, when Ricky and Jenny started to offer us rooms at the beach house we accepted.

Ricky and Jenny have one child Sarah (18). They stopped at one because of a genetic disease from Ricky’s side. Our kids (Ivan and Jenny) are younger and they play no part in this story.

Actually, to tell the truth, I did name my daughter after my sister but I had always pretended I named her after our famous ancestor. I told Jenny-sister the truth years ago when we’d been having one of our, ahem, get-togethers. She’d been flattered and had gone the extra mile on that occasion.

Ricky might be a git but I have to fair and admit he is generous. He usually also has friends come to stay. This year it was some folk we’d already met on a previous stay; an old university friend of Jenny’s, Angie, and her kids, Kelly (18) and two younger boys, Don and Brad. Yep, those poor boys were named after the cricket player.

Ricky was going to join us just after Christmas. He said business but Jenny (his wife, my sister) thought he had a mistress. Partly in revenge but mostly because we just like fucking, my sister Jenny and I were planning to get some action before he arrived.

Jill (my wife) knew about me and my sister. She said she didn’t pendik escort mind. She had also fucked her own brother when she’d been younger. She’d only done it a handful of times but it was drunkenly exchanging our incestuous histories on an early date with my wife-to-be that had really been the catalyst for the lasting and loving bond between us.

Angie’s husband (do keep up, Angie is the hot family friend) had walked out a few years before. Although we were suspicious, there seemed no hanky-panky between Angie and Ricky. Kelly (Angie’s daughter) and Sarah (Jenny and Ricky’s daughter — my niece) were totally best mates.

Sarah and Kelly had met when they were both in hospital 6 years earlier. Kelly had been in for the umpteenth operation on her heart. She had just had another operation and was very weak and washed out. She’d get better soon (but would be weak the rest of her life). Sarah, on the other hand, has cystic fibrosis.

Clearly I wouldn’t be telling you about this holiday if I wasn’t a pervy guy who did get up to a great deal of pleasure with some quite young women. However, I hadn’t even entertained any fantasies about these girls until we’d been there two days.

There is just something about girls this age as they are just becoming aware of their sexuality but are still unselfconscious enough to wear t-shirts that curve tightly over their tiny bra-less breasts and un-self-aware (or is it actually the opposite?) to wear really short shorts that show off their freshly shaved legs.

Having said that, I was simply looking forward to 3 weeks of being able to sit on the beach in sunglasses and stare at their crotches and catch the occasional glimpse of tit as they changed.

What really set me off was the way they both chatted and took turns to play on the swing in the garden when I was lounging on a chair on the deck. This is a bit hard to explain without pictures so just read this a few times until it makes sense. The swing was made of a plank of wood and was suspended from a tree by a rope on each side.

One of the girls would sit on the ground facing the swing — leaning against the tree – and the other would lie across the swing on her back with her head bent down towards the ground and facing the other girl (albeit upside down).

The one on the swing would have her feet flat on the ground pointing towards me and rock herself gently on the swing. The result was that the t-shirt of the girl on the swing would ride up a little, exposing her midriff. Her tiny breasts would just barely wiggle but her shorts would ride up to give her a total camel toe and as she rocked.

They took regular turns at swapping position and judging from the odd pauses as they rocked and the whispered moans and furtive gestures, I think both girls were deliberately rubbing the crotch of their shorts between their cunt lips. It wasn’t possible for the girls to lie head down for long, but I still enjoyed the brief time it lasted.

Sarah looked the best when she did this and I began to let my mind wander. Initially I had no thoughts of actually doing anything but it was still nice to imagine how she would look doing this naked.

Despite the incestuous relationship with her mother, I had not thought of Sarah in a sexual way before. And, perhaps because of the incestuous relationship with her mother, I had never really spent any time alone — or anything approaching it –with Sarah. Nevertheless, It was fun to imagine Jenny was going to make good on one of those fantasy promises she had often made when we were fucking. But I’m getting ahead of myself…

A close observer with a dirty mind like me would have also noticed, as I did, that more than once Sarah spread her knees, repositioned the crotch of her shorts and gave what can only be described as pelvic thrust to wedge the cloth more fully between her cunt lips. The other thing I noticed was that Sarah was noticeably developing a wet patch in her crotch.

I wasn’t especially horny or anything. I’d got into the habit of wanking at least daily while my wife Jill hadn’t been well and had had no interest in sex. However, now my wife was a lot better and we’d been making up for lost time. We’d bought and made a good sized collection of sex toys and we packed it all with us.

Jill had been rubbing against me on the trip here and we were planning on getting in a few solid days of fucking. I was also expecting at least one fuck with my sister and I even harboured faint hopes that an old fantasy of me fucking my sister while my wife watched before joining in might come true.

I say all this to make it clear I was getting plenty of action and what happened was not the result of desperation on my part.

Partly, I think Jill’s keenness was a low level rivalry with my sister. For a long time I had had a fantasy of fucking my sister while my wife watched and then watching them do each other. That did eventually happen but not on this trip.

A Great Debate had been going on all day. Ricky had called, he was due in maltepe escort a week but said he’d be delayed another day or so and was bringing another mystery guest, one he said we’d all like. To make up for the delay he offered to fly everyone to one of the amusement parks on the Gold Coast for the weekend. We just needed to get to the airport. Angie’s boys were really keen and my kids were bursting with excitement.

The problem was that there were 10 of us and it would take 2 vehicles to get everyone to the airport but 3 to get Ricky and his guest back with us. The airport was a half-day’s drive away and was the reason some places here had helipads (ok, one place).

We had Ricky’s car we could use, making 3 cars, but only 2 drivers because my licence had been suspended for 3 months. Not drink driving but for towing an unsafe load. My helper at the landscaping had not hitched a trailer up safely. It came loose but the safety chain meant it stayed with my van and nobody was hurt but it did look like something from a movie. Anyhow, I could not legally drive for another 5 weeks and the girls didn’t have licences yet.

Then, as we were still discussing the logistics, Kelly (Angie’s daughter) said she was still feeling weak after her hospital treatment and just wanted to rest, and besides, she said, those parks are for kids anyhow, not grownups like her. Angie had rolled her eyes at me when Kelly said that to say to me ‘oh my daughter is a grown up now?’ But I was puzzled to get the impression that Angie was also not keen for Kelly to go.

Actually, as Jill said later, Angie was probably terrified of Kelly being in a big sweaty crowd that might make her heart work too hard.

So when Sarah (my niece) had loyally offered to stay behind, my wife Jill nudged me and told me to stay behind and mind them. Jenny seconded the idea. Suited me fine. I hate theme parks.

And all of a sudden I found I liked the idea of being here alone with the two girls for, hmm a day each way driving, 2 days at the park, and at least one day shopping in probably Brissie (Brisbane) — that made 5 days with nothing to look at except two attractive young women.

Truth be told, it was obvious that Angie was exhausted herself from looking after Kelly and needed a break from her. Jenny-sister was happy with the idea provided I could handle the ‘very sucky motor’ and squeeze Sarah’s tits twice a day.

Let me explain:

Sarah has cystic fibrosis. The main symptom of this is that the body produces a huge amount of thick sticky mucus. This is a problem for the lungs and in bad cases the sufferer drowns in their own mucus in their sleep. The life expectancy for CF has been climbing and is now easily approaching 40-50 years — a big improvement over the 20 odd years life expectancy only a decade or two before. A big part of the improvement was down to new drugs and also to machinery.

Sarah had a machine that helped suck the mucus from her lungs and they called this the ‘very sucky motor’, or ‘Suck-me’. Suck-me had a face mask and a box that blew a mixture of moist warm air and a chemical to break down the mucus. The mask has a nose clip and also a short tube that reaches to the back of the mouth to maximise the penetration of the spray. Angie said the chemical was a special sort of detergent. To help loosen the mucus, sometimes someone also had to bang on the patient’s chest.

Suck-me was normally used once a day before bedtime unless there were other problems. Apparently a year or so ago, Sarah had got all panicky and hadn’t been able to connect the hoses the right way and had almost drowned in her mucus. So ever since, Jenny had insisted Sarah have an adult nearby to help.

Sarah totally didn’t think it was fair but given she’d only just got out of hospital, she was only putting up token resistance and it was agreed that I would stay behind and look after the girls for the two and a half days the rest would be away. They would leave Friday afternoon and be back here Sunday evening.

I was given a detailed run through of symptoms to watch for and had the machine explained to me. Kelly had already been trained, and the Flying Doctors were no more than about an hour and a half away, so Jenny felt ok about leaving Sarah behind. In the evening I was put to the test and had to set up and use the machine on Sarah with no help from anyone.

It wasn’t too hard and came with detailed instructions that were simple enough for an American to follow and not make any mistakes that would let them sue the manufacturer. The machine runs on 12V batteries that are recharged by plugging into mains. Ricky had a generator for the unreliable local supply and I knew in an emergency I could use a car battery. (Angie had bought jumper cables for this purpose).

Sarah had dressed for bed and was sitting in an old armchair in the lounge as I unpacked the machine and arranged the hoses etc. on the floor. Sarah gave me a part-smile, part-grimace to tell us all that she could do all this herself if she had to. kartal escort Sarah was wearing two-piece flannelette pyjamas with a very girly flower print design. The top was long sleeved but the bottom part was just loose shorts with scalloped cuffs on the legs and a fake fly sewn at the front.

I have always liked the way some girl’s pants have a fake fly. I like the idea of the inside seam rubbing at the girls cunt. Sometimes my wife borrows my underpants because they are more comfortable and I enjoy standing behind her and slipping some fingers through the fly to rub her cunt.

Sarah had her arms resting on the arms of the chair and had spread her legs so her knees almost touched the sides of the chair. As I stood over Sarah to fit the mask I had to keep moving my head from side to side, to be sure I had the straps fitting correctly and that I wasn’t tangling any hoses. I became aware that I could see down her pyjama top. The top button only came up as far as her sternum with the lapels only making a V to draw my attention.

I could see her smooth pale breasts had very dark areolas and her nipples seemed to be erect. I was being watched by Sarah, her mother, Kelly, and my wife Jill, so there was no way I could let my gaze linger. But I wasn’t sure my gaze had escaped Sarah’s notice or Jenny’s.

For everybody there are particular gestures. Gestures that are entirely or mostly innocent but still defines sexiness. For me, one of those gestures is when a sitting girl opens and then closes her knees — clenching them hard together before letting them relax a little. (If you read ‘Um, both, I guess’, you will know this gesture became significant for me when my sister and her friend did it at attract my attention. It worked and soon after Jenny and I became intimate).

So of course just to help me focus my attention and act professionally, that is exactly what Sarah. I have no doubt Sarah meant nothing by it but as she fidgeted she also gave another almost imperceptibly small version of what Frank N Furter called a ‘pelvic thrust’ — just like when she had been on the swing.

I finished the procedure and sat watching as Sarah breathed deeply for 20 minutes with the machine humming away. The face mask was like those ones in fighter pilot movies and only covered her mouth and nose.

She watched me intently and I felt she knew exactly what I was starting to think. At the same time Jenny explained other ‘maintenance’ procedures. This was things like cleaning the machine and making sure Sarah’s torso was slightly elevated when she slept.

Cleaning was really important to avoid blasting resistant bacteria into her lungs.

The elevation was simple and just meant we had shoved two pillows under the foot end of her mattress and one under where her hips lay. It was Jenny’s policy to stick her head in the door and make sure Sarah was sleeping safely. If she wriggled into a bad position, Jenny had always worried Sarah might drown in her sleep.

Sarah was quite clear that she felt this was ridiculous but did not veto the idea that I had to also check on her. Kelly would be in the same room anyhow so I knew the best I might see was bare midriff if her top rode up.

At the end of the training session I felt confident I could handle any emergency. Besides, if worst came to worst, I could always use the radio to call the flying doctors. Yeah, I know it was a 1980’s TV show but the service is real and still an essential part of rural Australian life.

Now that I had proven myself competent with suck-me, everyone seemed happier. Next day (Thursday) was uneventful, with people packing only just unpacked holiday clothes for this side trip.

My work days are spent outside as an overqualified and adequately paid landscaper so I like to use my holiday to read instead of doing outdoorsy or beach stuff. Now remember, that in Australia, Christmas is in the middle of summer and the start of the long school break.

My brother-in-law Ricky might be richer than us but my sister, his wife, is smarter than him. She is a high school biology teacher (I used to be a teacher, too, and Jill is also a teacher) and Jenny likes to bring educational and/or provocative books along on holiday to leave casually about to subtly point out she has the brains.

This holiday she’d bought a couple of old books by Mary Roach, Stiff and Bonk. Stiff is about what happens to human bodies after death and Bonk is about sex research; not sex itself but research about sex. (Note to USA readers: in Australia ‘bonk’ is a prime-time suitable euphemism for sexual intercourse).

Jill and I knew that Jenny was doing this to provoke me. Jill and I had had a stroll in the bush (i.e. woods) earlier in the day and Jill had said that Jenny had some plans but she’d let Jenny tell me about them. I hoped this meant this might be the trip where she and Jenny would fuck and let me watch.

That afternoon, Jenny was humming Madonna’s ‘Get into the Groove’. When we were teenagers, this had been our code for she wanted me to give her a good cunt licking — something that I adored doing more than just about everything else we ever did (I’ll get to the exception later). After everyone else had gone to bed, Jenny invited me to grab a 6 pack and come out for a walk.

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