Date: Wed, 10 Mar 2010 15:22:16 -0000 From: Nick Subject: Keeping it in the family - Chapter 14 WARNING: The following true story - only the names of the participants have been changed - contains descriptions of gay and bisexual/incestuous activity between adult relatives and others, activities which may be illegal in some jurisdictions or cause offence against some religious beliefs. Please do not read any further if you are likely to be offended by its content or if it might be illegal in your country! By the way, the story is written with the full knowledge and approval of all the living persons having significant mention therein. * * * * After breakfast, it was back to the suite to complete our ablutions and to prepare the inevitable flasks of coffee for the day out. None of us was very familiar with the northwest corner of England so we had decided to head west to the coast, then north towards the Scottish border, probably returning to the hotel southwards on the M6 motorway in time to dress for dinner. The round trip would be about four hours driving, giving plenty of time for some stops for coffee, lunch and whatever. We would have to leave some time for the girls to explore the Factory Outlet Stores at Gretna! We set of in Rob's Ford Mondeo estate about 10.15, heading first south along the mountainous roads of the Lake District National Park towards Grange-over-sands, a small, unprepossessing town at the head of Morecombe Bay. The bay is known for having some of the flattest beaches in Europe, consequently its very fast incoming tides regularly trap unwary cockle pickers who frequent the place. It is also home to offshore oil wells and has more recently become host to offshore wind turbines. We turned northwards along the coast towards Ravenglass, a former fishing village, along some interesting countryside and picturesque villages, stopping several times for the views, some photographs and for the men-folk to pee! After the late breakfast it was too early for lunch when we arrived in Ravenglass about 11.45 so we walked along the seafront and explored some of the little shops before returning to the car for coffee, before continuing north to Workington. I have no idea why coffee affect men's bladders but not women's but we had to make a pee-stop a few miles up the road, almost on the shadow of one of Britain's first nuclear power stations, a true carbuncle on the beautiful coastal landscape, renamed Windscale after the Calder Hall nuclear accident in the 1960s and now known as Sellafield nuclear reprocessing plant. When Rob and I returned from the seclusion of some roadside rocks, there was a Land Rover in police livery, with the logo of the British Nuclear Police on its door and with its blue lights flashing parked behind our car. This is the only routinely armed police force in Britain. Two officers were talking to the girls through the open back window of the Mondeo. They greeted us politely as we approached but I could not help but notice a hand move towards the side-arm carried by one of the policemen. "Good morning, gentlemen. This is a nuclear restricted area, didn't you see the signs prohibiting stopping and the use of cameras?" "No, I didn't, I'm afraid," Rob answered. "We haven't taken any pictures this side of Ravenglass, the cameras are in the boot." "OK, sirs, my colleague will just frisk you if you don't mind and if the ladies will step out of the car, I'll just check it over." It wasn't a polite request, it was a politely framed order. We obeyed. They found nothing of interest in the car, told us to watch for the road signs as we passed the nuclear facility, apologised profusely and wished us a good day. As we drew away, Sarah said "All that made me feel quite horny, especially the cop with his hand on his gun!" "Me too", said Alison. "Come on girls, save that for later," I said. "How much later?" was the question from the back seat. "At least until we get out of the restricted zone," Rob answered. A couple of miles up the road we saw another BNPF Land Rover, parked off the road, facing us. "Checking our passage", I said to Rob, a remark which attracted appropriately ribald responses from both girls. It was again a beautifully sunny day, so I said "We could stop up on the moors for another coffee, if you like." "Yes, please", was the reply from both girls, in unison. Another couple of miles up the road there was a parking place overlooking the sea. Rob pulled in there and the girls produced the coffee flask and we stood outside in the sunshine drinking it, before deciding to take a walk into the moorland scrub. We wandered off arm-in-arm, in the warm sunshine, breathing in the beautifully fresh, coastal air. As the path led into thicker undergrowth, Sarah slipped her hand down the back of my trousers and began to fondle my bum. Rob and Alison were a little way in front of us and had stopped for a long, smooching session. As we caught up with them I noticed that Alison's hand was rubbing the unmistakeable bulge at the front of his trousers. Sarah must have noticed too. She withdrew her left hand from my bum as we passed them, put it around my waist, slipped my trouser zip down and put her hand in. "No knickers!" she exclaimed. "My secret", I said. As we had dressed together, I happened to know that Rob was going commando too, but Alison was yet to discover. Sarah cupped the hand under my balls and flopped the whole kit out, my dick starting to anticipate some action. I looked back, Alison was on her knees in front of Rob who was looking over her towards us. Sarah bent over and kissed my dick; it gave an involuntary twitch as she did so. We stopped, she fell to her knees, took my dick to her mouth and sucked the glans into it, pushing my foreskin back along the shaft with her pursed lips as she did so. As the knob became fully exposed, she took the whole length of my not quite hard cock into her mouth, then slowly withdrew it, bringing the foreskin back over my knob as she did so and finally gripped the loose foreskin in her tightly closed lips before letting it go. It was exquisite! There was a shout from Rob. Alison was getting quickly to her feet whilst fumbling with Rob's zip. Sarah got up and stuffed my kit back where it belonged and carefully closed my zip over my still bulging groin. There was a cry of pain from Rob. Alison had obviously not been so careful! We looked back again, just as a party of hikers came into view, just failing to catch us in the act! We walked on as if nothing had happened, Rob and Alison soon caught up. "That was a close call", I said. "Rob got his dick in the zip", Alison said. "Serves him right for having no knickers on", I said. "You haven't either", Sarah said. "But I didn't get my dick caught." The girls went on slightly ahead, chatting as they went. The hikers took a slightly different path to one side, though still within sight and earshot. "It bloody hurts, I think its bleeding", Rob said. "Oh dear" was my not very sympathetic reply. "We'll have a look when the girls are round that bend." "You'll need an elastic sticking plaster," I joked. "They don't make them as stretchy as my dick." We stopped, Rob took his now flaccid cock out and sure enough there was a slight oozing of blood from a wound on his foreskin. "TCP is what you need," I said. "Not on your life." "No, on your Willy," I said flippantly. "It bloody stings on the finger, God knows what it will do on my dick, anyway we haven't got any," Rob answered. "Oh yes we have, Sarah's got some in her First Aid pack in the car." "You wouldn't?" "I would, just to see you jump!" Rob had already put his shrivelled cock away and as we rounded the corner we saw the girls talking to the hikers where the paths met. We all chatted for a few minutes then the hiking party carried on and we returned to the car via the shorter path. "Sarah," I said, "Rob needs some TCP." "I do not," he said forcefully. "Let me look," Alison said, knowing full well what the problem was. "No!" We got back into the car and continued our drive north, stopping a few times to admire the view and take photographs, eventually stopping at a pub outside Workington for a snack lunch. After a pint of best bitter, Rob's mood was somewhat improved but I noticed what looked like a tiny bloodstain on the front of his cotton trousers. I mentioned it when we visited the toilets before leaving. We looked at his dick, the foreskin was very red and swollen, clearly very sore. Back at the car, Rob said "Nick will drive for a while", and we set off through Workington, a typical northern market town. Rob spotted a Pharmacy and asked me to stop. The three of us stayed in the car while he went to the shop. I told the girls he was very uncomfortable but felt that TCP might be a bit drastic. The girls winced. Rob came back with a small paper bag "I had to explain the problem to the woman pharmacist", he said, "I am sure she was smirking about it." "What did she give you?" Alison asked. "Savlon cream; then sent me to the staff toilet to put some on. At least it didn't sting but I am sure she had told the entire staff about the problem before I came out." We drove up the river valley towards Carlisle, a much bigger market town, the "Gateway to Scotland", where we stopped for tea. A great feature of these market towns is their Market Square. Save on market days, it is invariably given over to parking; in the north of England particularly, it is easy to park within a short distance of everything worth seeing. Rob went to the 'Gents' again and returned with the paper bag in his hand. "It doesn't look quite so angry now," he said. Sensing that his mood had improved, Alison said "We'll all kiss it better back at the hotel." "Promises, promises." We spent a little time looking around the town, before I continued the short drive up the M6 motorway to Gretna, just over the Scottish border, and to the Factory Outlet Stores. The Blacksmith's Forge at Gretna Green was formerly famously associated with runaway weddings from England. In England, marriages required three weeks' notice to be given whilst in Scotland it was possible to be married without notice. Eloping couples took advantage of this, their first port of call on their northward flight being Gretna where the blacksmith traditionally was also a civil registrar. Rob and I sent the girls shopping whilst we wandered fairly aimlessly round the traditional village and then the shopping village. We didn't see anything that we particularly wanted from the shops, though I could have saved 35 percent on the new suit I recently bought in Birmingham, so I did get a matching pair of trousers at a knockdown price. Rob got a pack of his favourite DNKY underwear to 'make himself more comfortable' on the way back to the hotel. I borrowed a pair and we both retired to the Gents to put them on. We met the girls (and their shopping!) at 4.30pm, as decreed and took the quick way back down the M6 to Windermere, about an hour's run. On the way back, I again noticed the familiar livery of the Dutch truck I had seen so often near home, three of them, probably the same three we had seen the previous day, spending the night in a roadside lay-by, also with convenient woods nearby; sharing sleeper cabs, I wonder? Rob suggested a swim when we got back, so while the girls did what girls have to do before dinner we went to the hotel pool. There were only four others there, an elderly couple, who soon left, and the two men we had seen on our walk the previous evening. We chatted with the men whose pleasant demeanour in no way reflected their apparent sexuality. Not for the first time, we were asked if we were twins and I was tempted to enquire of their relationship but thought better of it! After the swim, Rob and I went in the sauna in the men's changing room to relax a while. We had no compunction about stripping to our birthday suits in the Scandinavian manner but were a bit embarrassed when the two gay men joined us, similarly unattired. I couldn't help noticing their dicks, 'Little and Large' Rob called them afterwards in a parody on the popular TV show - to be frank, I would have said 'absolutely bloody enormous' and 'minuscule'! I was not and am not an expert on these matters but I can safely say they had the biggest and smallest cocks I have ever seen. It was hard to keep from staring at them whilst they led the conversation - I was so mesmerised that I can't remember what about! As we got showered and dressed afterwards, Rob said the water had done his wound the world of good, even showing it to me. I certainly hoped he would be able to do whatever he had to do tonight! When we got back to the suite, the girls were practically ready and we got changed again and retired to the bar for a pre-dinner drink. We were about to go in to dinner when Little and Large came to the bar, greeting us as long lost friends. We introduced them to our wives, but as they couldn't tell the difference between Rob and I (his curly pubic hair was no longer to be seen!), Oliver and Grenville (yes, really!) didn't have a clue which wife was which! The dinner was again delicious, French Onion Soup, a choice of Pates, Roast Welsh lamb and a whole range of delicious desserts from which to choose and of course we indulged ourselves from the excellent and reasonably priced wine list. It was rare that we were out together without at least one of us having to drive home. Little and Large were seated further away at dinner that night and it was inevitable that they would come up in conversation. Rob referred to them by his nicknames and of course the girls immediately wanted to know why he had so-named them. He couldn't explain for laughing, so I whispered to Sarah who whispered it to Alison, before both broke out in raucous laughter. We had to explain to waiters and fellow guests that it was a private joke. We had coffee and liqueurs in the lounge where 'L&L' invited themselves to join us, much to the embarrassment of the girls, but we had a pleasant conversation without them revealing their reason for being at the hotel; for that matter, neither did we! On the way back to the suite, Sarah asked which was which. I replied that the taller one was Oliver and promptly got a slap for not giving the answer she wanted! Rob spoiled the fun by saying that the tall one had the short dick. There was little of interest on the Saturday night TV and anyway on such a lovely evening we decided to go for a walk, it still not being dark at 10pm in those latitudes in the English midsummer. We walked the other way along the lakeshore for twenty minutes or so before turning back. We saw nothing untoward apart from a rabbit which scuttled across in front of the girls, prompting a pointless discussion as to whether that was lucky or unlucky. On getting back to the suite, Sarah reminded us (as if we needed it) that it was swaps night and the same rule would apply in the morning - full and frank reports would be required! Alison and me, Rob and Sarah retired to our rooms. In spite of my relationship with Alison, I must admit to being a bit apprehensive - even to the extent that I had put out my 'in case of fire' nightwear of loose fitting boxer shorts. We went separately to the bathroom - I'm not sure that even Sarah had seen me peeing (except on country walks!). Alison was in bed by the time I emerged, decently clad from the bathroom. As I got into bed beside her, it only took a second to realise that Alison had not been so modest - she was absolutely starkers. I have often wondered what the female version of 'stark bollock naked' might be. "We'll have those off, right now!" she said. I was thankful she referred on to the shorts! So, off them came. We cuddled and she nearly spoilt the moment by asking how it felt to be in bed with another man's wife. "You are my brother's wife", I said, "and your husband is in bed with my wife!" That broke the ice and as I had hoped, there was no embarrassing 'thank you' speech from Alison - not that she wasn't grateful, I am sure she had realised that I didn't need to hear it again. She had obviously planned our night together. "Nick," she said, "I don't want you to shag me tonight. We did it for a reason and that reason is now fulfilled. Anything else, but I don't want your prick in my cunt. Is that alright with you?" "Absolutely," I replied, "sleeping in the same bed as a woman is a matter of give and take. I won't take anything you don't freely want to give. That includes the spare pillow!" She laughed and gave my still flaccid dick a good tweak. "Well, I shall suck some life into this limp sausage for a start." With that she pulled me across the bed and kneeled astride my head. I was looking straight into her pussy, its surrounding hair neatly trimmed. She kissed my nipples, gently bit them and then sucked them hard, one after the other until they really were quite tender. By now, my prick was hardening, though the foreskin still covered my knob. "Ah! We must do something about this she said and took it between her lips. She worked her tongue into my foreskin, pushed it back with her lips and took just the knob into her mouth, licking my piss slot with her tongue. After a few moments, Percy had reached its full seven inch glory and she slowly took all of it into her mouth, then squeezed it slowly out again until it flopped back on my belly. "Enough for now, your turn," she said, lowering her bush onto my face. In spite of her having showered earlier, I could smell her musk and that made my prick get even harder, if indeed that was possible! I tentatively pushed my tongue towards her slit. It slipped in easily and found her clitoris. Her lips began to swell as I rotated my tongue around her woman cock. I could taste the saltiness as I extended my tongue to its limit. Suddenly she squeezed my tongue and pushed it out, just like she had with my dick from her mouth. "Turn round!" It was a command and I obeyed. She was on her back across the huge bed, I was lying on my front, her legs spread either side of my head. I lifted her legs near vertical, pushed my head between them and let her feet fall on to my back. My tongue was into her slit, she spread her legs a little and I tongued her clitoris for all I was worth. It didn't seem long before she was groaning gently, then there was a great gush of wetness in her cunt, on her lips, on my face and in my mouth. Alison screamed in the ecstasy of her orgasm. It was all I could do to avoid dumping my load on to the bedclothes that were cushioning my now rampant prick. Alison virtually collapsed in a flaccid heap, trapping my face where it was, barely allowing me to breathe. After a few more moments of ecstasy, we disentangled ourselves and lay on our back, spread-eagled on the bed. The spell was broken when Alison said "That was just as good as Rob does." I suppose the comparison was inevitable and I took it as a compliment! I think both of us could have dropped off to sleep right then but Alison said "Right, let's see what we can do for you!" "But you already did." "You've still got that spunk left from last night, though if it hadn't been for those hikers on the moors you might not have!" "True", I said, "on both counts." She got into much the same position as I had been in, lying on her front across the bed, me on my back with her head between my outstretched legs. "Let's get to work on your hard-on, it seems to be waning a bit." It was, with all the sex I had had lately, tiredness from the walking and fresh air today, followed by the swimming and good food, that was hardly surprising! Alison got to work on my prick and it was soon back to its fullest extent. I was determined to hold off for as long as I could, not that that might be very long given the process so far! Alison seemed to sense when I was near and backed off several times, releasing my prick from her mouth and licking my balls or stroking the sensitive area behind them for a few moments. But all good things must come to an end, I could hold off no longer and dumped shot after shot of hot spunk into Alison's mouth. Some of it dribbled out and ran down my balls, but she kept most of it in her mouth. In a move which surprised me, she scooted up my body, lubricated by our sweat, and kissed me, depositing my own spunk into my own mouth. I savoured it for a moment, swallowed some and gave her some back. The perfect finishing touches to a classic blow-job! "We need a shower," I said. "That can wait till morning." We got ourselves straightened up in bed, put the lights out, pulled the covers up, she got into my arms in the classic 'spoons' position and we were asleep in no time. The alarm clock woke us at 7.30am, still entwined in each other's arms.