Vacation in Cannes

I drove Layla to Flora; I was going there anyway. Michelle now lived in Indianapolis, so first we dropped her off. At Michelle's, Layla and Michelle spoke together for what seemed like forever, while I watched the game with Michelle's brother. Finally, Layla and I said our goodbyes to Michelle, for a few days, and we hit the road for Flora, about sixty-five miles to the north.

At this point, Layla knew the fate of her parents, and their cruel death, thanks to a drunken driver one New Year's Eve.

**

"Michelle says you have a crush on me. You're in love with my boobs, apparently. Nice to re-meet you, Jim-Bob," Eleanor said.

"And you too, Layla. If I may," I said.

"To you, Jim-Bob, I'm Bayba, and I'll always be Bayba. Now come here and give your sister a kiss! It's been fifteen years!"

I did. I gave her a soft kiss on the cheek. "You call that a kiss?" Layla exclaimed. She grabbed the sides of my head with both of her hands, pulled in, and gave me a passionate, open mouthed kiss. It was sexier than any kiss Michelle had yet to give me. I was stunned. She was my sister! Dream Boobs Woman, with the same boobs as my Mom at her age, is my sister, my very own sister? My long, lost Bayba is here; she has returned!

"Want to see their graves?" I asked. We had already broken the news of their untimely deaths to Layla.

"Are they buried together?"

"Yes. They lived together, died together, and are now buried together," I said. "Is that a problem?"

"Yes," Layla replied.

"Because of Dad?" I asked.

"You know? How?" Layla asked.

"I may have been only a child, but I loved you, and I heard you softly crying, every time, after Dad visited your room, and well, I figured it out," I said.

"You were always were a smart, perceptive kid. I remember changing your diapers when you were a baby. I was only nine. You used to pee straight up, and I quickly learned to stand to the side. God, you were cute!" she said.

"I'm 25 now, a grown man, and I even have a serious girlfriend," I said.

"I like Michelle. She's nice. She's a keeper, even if she is a handful," Layla said. "Okay, let's go to the graves. You have some hard liquor for after our visit?"

"Bourbon, Scotch, Rum, Tequila, and all sorts of wine," I said.

**

Six margaritas later, and a lot of tears, Layla asked where she should sleep?

"Your old room?" I suggested. "My old room no longer has a bed."

"Definitely not. I won't even touch my old bed. Too many horrible memories. Where do you sleep?" my sister asked.

"I bought a new bed for the master bedroom, since Mom and Dad's bed dated from the Pleistocene era. I don't see how they slept on it. That's where I sleep now," I said.

"What is it? A King?" she asked.

"A Queen size. Why?" I replied.

"I guess that's big enough. We'll share the bed tonight," Layla declared.

"Uh...do you think that's a good idea?" I asked.

"Why not?" Layla asked.

"I've never slept with a woman in the same bed without a little, you know..." I stumbled.

"Hanky-panky?" Layla proffered.

"Well, yes," I said.

"Don't worry, Jim-Bob, it takes two to tango," Layla said. "And I don't tango."

"Please call me JB. We're both drunk, though, and well, you have my dream boobs, Bayba, and I've been fantasizing you since I saw you half naked on the beach in Cannes," I said, somewhat nervously.

"Are you serious? You fantasized about me?" Layla said. She was smiling. She liked the idea. Maybe she thought I was cute? Or sweet and adorable? I wished she would take me seriously.

"Over these?" Layla added, as she removed her sweater, revealing a delightful lace bra.

I just stood there, stunned.

"Sorry. I meant these?" Layla said, as she next removed her bra, revealing the breasts of all of my recent wet dreams.

I didn't even try to hide my erection.

"You know, JB, you're really charming, and handsome, too. It's quite flattering for a thirty something woman to be the object of a young man's crush. It's too bad you're my very own brother, or I might find it fun to fool around with you a little, you know?" she said. Seeing my hopeful, panting, puppy dog face, she added, "But you are my brother, and incest is simply no longer in my wheelhouse."

Did she just suggest incest? I thought. Incest was the only word she had just said that registered in my hormone-addled brain.

"So if I were not your brother, we could, uh ..."

"Yes," she said, and she gave me a wicked smile.

"If nobody ever knows, maybe we can let it be our little secret? I would so love to touch your spectacular boobs, Bayba," I said, in my most endearing voice, or at least it is according to Michelle.

"Well, okay, you can play a little with my boobs, I guess that's not really incest, and then let's simply go to sleep. Got that? The boundaries are clear, am I right?" she asked.

"Yes."

We began by kissing. Boy could my sister kiss! I guess she had put that extra eight years of life on this planet to good use! It bothered me that she had let a succession of men, a new man every day, enjoy her body in France, but now I was shut out, just because I was her brother. I wasn't even thinking of Michelle, my girlfriend, and being loyal to her. What a horndog of a creep I was being!

However, the only thing of any consequence in my mind was my sister, and her boobs, and that we were in bed together, and the only item protecting her virtue at this point was her panties, and her strong will. As we kissed, and as I played with her boobs, I debated constantly in my mind if I could slip my hand under her panties. I was just too scared of upsetting her, and ruining what we had just then, which, after all, was amazingly enjoyable.

After a bit, maybe twenty minutes, Layla pushed me away, and sat up, saying, "That's enough, my horny little brother. I'll have to speak with Michelle," she teased. "Clearly she's not satisfying your boundless needs!"

At that moment, however, Layla saw my engorged cock. It had slipped out of the fly in my briefs. Layla looked stunned, and then she quickly pulled off my briefs, ostensibly to get the full view. She looked horrified, as if she had just seen an evil ghost. She began to cry. Crying doesn't do it justice: she began to sob. She was sobbing and shaking violently.

I forgot all about sex and went to comfort her. I had no idea why she had suddenly burst into tears. No girl or woman had ever that reaction before upon seeing my erection and entire pubic area. Usually, since my little friend only emerged when I was sure he'd be welcome, he would be met with enthusiasm. The enthusiasm varied in degree, to be sure, but it had never before inspired sobbing! My confidence was a bit shaken by Layla's rather extreme reaction.

I caressed Layla's hair, now leaving her boobs and her body in general alone. After a bit, a good, solid ten minutes, I'd say, her sobbing subsided, and she was only whimpering. Then she shocked me by kissing me, rather passionately. It was a sizzling kiss, and the power of it reached my toes. My cock, which had deflated after her sobbing upon seeing it, quickly rose up, like a phoenix from the ashes. It felt, at least internally, to me, as if it were now made of pure diamond.

I got my second shock when Layla's hand went to my cock. Her tender, slim, long and delicate fingers wrapped themselves around it sweetly, as she continued to kiss me. I had no idea what was happening, but I was not about to complain!

Without speaking even a word, and as if she were in a trance, Bayba removed the rest of her clothes. Holy Moses, was she a beauty! My cock was so hard, it was painful. Bayba then came over and she undressed whatever clothes I still had on. I was immobilized by the sight of her naked body.

"Holy Christ -- you're just like him!" she uttered, in undisguised horror. "I wonder if you fuck like he did, too?"

"What are you talking about?" I asked. My Bayba was clearly upset, upon seeing me naked. It's not a reaction a man likes to get from a naked woman, especially the world's sexiest woman, even if she is my sister. She is, after all, the object of my most fervent desire.

"Only one way to find out," she said. She grabbed the margarita she seemed always to have at hand. I was in a daze. It didn't help that the booze had addled my brain. I was still trying to process what the fuck was happening.

We were on the bed, my cock inside Bayba's mouth and throat. She paused to say, "I know we shouldn't be doing this, but I'm grieving for Mom. Everyone grieves in their own unique way. Mine is sex. Lots and lots of sex."

"What about Dad? Are you grieving for Dad?" I asked. I loved our father, even if what he did to Bayba was unforgiveable.

"No. Not at all. However, baby brother, your cock is exactly, and I do mean exactly, like our father's. Now let's see if you fuck the same way he did, okay?" she said, and she lay on her back, spreading her legs. "Come to Sis, JB."

"I thought you hated it when Dad fucked you?" I asked, in a state of confusion, which seemed to be my new trope.

"I did. I hated it like poison. Each fuck poisoned me, and brought me closer to suicide. I left the family, never to return, to save myself. However, I also loved the fucks," she said.

"You hated them, they were driving you to suicide, and yet you loved them, too?" I said, confused beyond reason.

"People are complicated, Jim-Bob. The human mind is capable of experiencing contradictory needs and wants simultaneously," she said.

"It is?" I asked.

"Yes. I hated Dad's fucks with all my heart, and all of my soul, and yet I lived for them, and climaxed brutally with each and every one," Layla said, as she spread her legs and pulled me on top of her. She positioned herself perfectly, and her soaking wet, flowering lips, seemed magically to suck me inside her; not that I was resisting.

As my cock entered her and rapidly bottomed out inside her, Layla gasped. "Oh my God, yes. Finally. Goddam you, JB, you're just like him. You feel the same inside me. Damn, damn, damn!" she said, as I began to pump my cock inside her little corner of paradise, as the sides of her cunt kept squeezing my cock in the most wonderful way.

"I've fucked a good dozen or so other men since I ran away some fifteen years ago. They were all different, and all nice in their own ways, but they were never what I wanted; what I needed. Until now," she declared, panting and grunting as she stuttered out the words.

I had never thought about, nor wondered, if my older sister squirted when she climaxed. As it turns out, however, occasionally she does just that, and this was one of those times. Undaunted, however, I just kept right on fucking her, with each incestuous thrust being even better than the previous one.

Layla kept climaxing, groaning or moaning, and loudly, too. I remembered those moans from when I was nine and ten, and listening to the sex in the next room. It freaked me out to realize that Layla was once again fucking our Dad, by proxy, and worst of all, I was the proxy, but even as I had that thought, I saw her heaving boobs, those perfect, wonderful boobs, sweating delicately, femininely, as her sounds blared out her pleasure. All I wanted, just then, was to fuck my Bayba to the very edge of her sanity. I began to pound her poor pussy for all it was worth, at the same time twisting her nipples, as she writhed in erotic pain.

I erupted inside my sweet and totally fucked up sister, with a force I had never before known I had within me, and my spunk squirted out as if fired from a canon. Repeatedly. Layla had already climaxed several times, it was obvious, and the sheets were awash with her own ejaculation. I fell on top of her, exhausted and drained, and we kissed tenderly. We exchanged no words, both having known what had happened. My father's ghost had possessed me, and he had violated my sweet sister one last time, from beyond the grave. It was their final fuck, and Layla had truly needed it.

When morning came, I woke to find I was alone in the bed. Layla was up, showered and dressed, and making breakfast. I walked into the kitchen, pinched her ass to make sure she knew what we had done the night before, and she smiled at me.

"Don't you want some coffee first, lover?" Layla said.

We drank coffee and then it was as if Layla was a little girl again, guiding her puppy dog boyfriend into the bedroom, to make tender love with him. That's exactly what she did. We continued to make love on and off that wondrous day, until the physical limitations of my balls to produce seminal fluid were reached, and I had nothing left to give. Then we just cuddled and kissed, enjoying the relaxed intimacy of two spent lovers.

We never again had a night like the time I channeled my father and reproduced the paternal incest that haunted Layla's soul. I like to believe that one, special time freed Layla from the curse of our father's horrific weakness, and she healed to become a happy, normal woman. I'm sure it's not true, but I like to believe it.

When I returned to Michelle, she never asked what happened up in Flora when I was with my sister, and I never said. I think, however, she knew, and she was okay with it. She's invited Layla for the Rosh Hashanah holidays, since Michelle is Jewish, and even though we live in Indiana, she found challah bread and some of the other stuff one has to have, to properly celebrate the Jewish New Year. Layla is bringing her new boyfriend, the latest in a long string of boyfriends, since the passing of Evan. I look forward to meeting him.

It will be weird, perhaps, to celebrate the Jewish New Year with two women, with both of whom I have carnal knowledge, and one of them being my sister. Nevertheless, I'm looking forward to it. I can't wait to see what happens!