Date: Sat, 19 Nov 2011 11:04:53 -0800
From: applesandpears@hushmail.com
Subject: La Mer-Chapter One

La Mer.
An Incest Story by Adrian.

Ok readers, listen up! This is how it works. If you like this new series,
make sure and give me plenty of feedback. It's the only thing that keeps me
motivated. I have more to tell here; send me a note and let me know what
you liked. Maybe you'll even see a bit more of it;) If you like the style,
also check out my continuing series, "A Little Revolution".

Send any and all mail to me, Adrian, at:

applesandpears@hushmail.com

Editor's Note: Naturally, this is all fiction, don't take it seriously,
don't fuck your kids, etc., or anyone else`s. We don't live in this
world. If you have a hard time telling fantasy from reality, seek
professional help.

Nota Bene: This story is fiction. It is inspired by an actual incident that
I witnessed a few years ago at a naturist resort. Only the first few
paragraphs, character descriptions, and incidentals are accurate and
truthful though. The rest is the result of my fervid imagination. I've no
evidence that the family that inspired this story engages in any of this
kind of activity, but one can daydream. Though such daydreams are not
recommended in the nude in front of a bunch of strangers, at least not if
you are a male of the species.

Chapter One.

"Oops!"

That's what he said, exactly how he said it. I mean, he didn't say "oops"
exactly because he was speaking French, but you get the idea. When he
noticed his stiff little erection, that's what he said.

"Oops!"

What was even more delicious was the look on his face, the look of surprise
and astonishment that only a child ever has, a look that combines guileless
wonder and excited discovery. Everything is just so interesting when you
are six years old, you go through life with a series of adorable
astonishing expressions of incredulity. That's why it's so easy to convince
children that age of myths like Santa Claus and Jesus. The world is so full
of improbabilities, of shocks to the system, of glaring new information,
that it's hard to discern what's real and what's fantasy. Which is why
"oops" was a perfectly authentic reaction to the realization that he had
absent-mindedly tugged his pint-sized member to a public bone.

Oops, indeed.

I had mentally named the three boys Small, Medium, and Large. Not very
clever, but it worked. The three brothers were like a science exhibition on
the development of the body; the were physically almost identical but at
three different stages of growth.

Large was not very large at all. He was probably eleven, possibly ten,
maybe twelve. It was a bit hard to tell with European boys sometimes, since
the lack of hormones in their beef and corn syrup in their everything meant
that they often looked younger then the American lads I had grown up
with. He was a bit under five feet, not more then ninety pounds, but a well
built boy. His chest was firm with a bit of budding muscular development,
his neck was thick but long and graceful, his torso was tight as a drum;
his abdominal muscles laddered nicely down to the fine cleft of v-shaped
pubis. He had still the boy's fine slimness of arm and leg, but a well
toned and superbly round ass hinted at a love of running or soccer, and a
well-formed, proudly long and thin cock hinted at fun things to come. His
balls were hanging but not low, still not drooping below the jut of his
large foreskin, but not tucked up like in younger boys. They swung free
when he walked, jumped, cavorted, dove, stood on his hands, ran around the
deck, climbed out onto the lip of the pool, or laid on a towel on the warm
cement on his stomach with the little sack pooled right under that
magnificent ass. He was round-faced and full-lipped with cropped short
brown hair and light pale blue eyes and big feet. His tan line reflected a
boy who spent little time in a shirt and a lot of time in soccer shorts,
though his ass was hardly the pale white of a non-nudist boy, but rather
just a slightly paler shade of lovely light caramel. He was a fucking boy
god.

Which made Medium a demigod by genetics alone. At what was unmistakably
nine, he was a slimmer, less developed version of his brother, not so
defined in his chest and a little more of a a straight line from waist to
hip. Same round face and smiling red lips, same pale blue eyes and
appropriately sizable cock, same two dimples above an astonishing round
ass, same outie belly button sitting like a stone in a cup on the flat
abdomen, same big feet and detached, slightly oversized ears. Same round
pug nose just slightly upturned without the narrow gallic curse, same long
fingers and slim wrists. He was different in his somewhat curly black hair,
short on the sides, with bangs that hung in his eyes. He was different in
his tan, both darker and more all-over, with the lines of a boy who spent
much of his non-nude time in a speedo cut admirably high on ass and low on
hips. Different in the way he constantly licked his lips and looked like he
was up to something just a bit naughty, unlike his brother's jock
expression of "who, me?" innocence. All those differences in no way took
away from the first thing you noticed; that they were strong blood
brothers.

Which brought us to Small, he of the busy hands. Six years old, with a
shaggy dirty blond bowl of hair, a mix of his two brother's differing
traits. He was a bit fuller like Large, but had the curve to his posture
like Medium. A speedo tan, he was the same lighter color as his oldest
bro. While he was in no way pudgy, he was clearly less developed; his
abdomen was flat but not ripped and his balls were tucked up quite tightly,
though he carried the jaunty brotherly foreskin and long, attractive pubic
crest and graceful neck. He was all boy, a constantly chattering jay
desperate to please his older brothers and hold their attention. However,
he had picked a funny way of showing it.

As I lay there on my chaise behind my dark glasses watching the boys from
across the rectangle of the pool, I had watched as Small, with the total
shamelessness of an unconscious act, absentmindedly cupped his little
boyness and started a casual tug. In only a few moments the happy member
swelled with blood and commenced pointing towards the sky; at this point he
pinched his long hood between index and thumb and started sliding it up and
down over a cute little strawberry head. I watched with disbelief, very
grateful I was laying on my stomach, and this perfect creature masturbated
himself on the edge of a swimming pool full of a couple dozen strangers and
friends, while holding his attention on the fascinating conversation his
two older brothers were having above his upturned head. Undoubtedly they
were plotting something terribly dangerous and exciting.

Finally, after a session of public self-pleasure that seemed to go on for a
season but that only lasted maybe 45 seconds, he seemed to remark the
sensations of his own perfect little body and looked down with that
expression of astonishment at what his own devilish hands had been up to.

"Oops!"

The poor little guy. He wasn't even sophisticated enough to keep it on the
down-low. His expression of surprise and wonder attracted the attention of
his two older bros, and they both erupted in laughter. Oh, how cruel a
brother can be.

"Nice job there!" exclaimed Large, with a hearty deep laugh and the
hormone-husky voice of a boy about to experience his own uncontrollable
24/7 boners.

"You know you're not supposed to do that out here" Medium lectured, trying
to pull together a straight stern face, and losing.

"I know! Not outside the villa!" The poor boy said it with the exasperation
of someone stating the obvious, the rather telling evidence to the contrary
still poking up at a barely less then totally vertical angle. It wasn't
going away, so he did what I would expect any man or boy naturally to do,
he grabbed himself to cover it up. He was just starting to tinge red in
embarrassment, though that might have been the redness of a morning of
all-over sun.

Then he did something remarkable. Rather then sulk away in embarrassment,
or run away to mummy in tears, or rile up in defensive anger, he lifted one
hand away from his virile member and stuck up an equally rigid middle
finger at his two brothers. Then stuck out his tongue. Ah the audacity!

He was immediately tossed in the pool of course, where he could paddle
around until his blood-rushed condition subsided.

Let me back up to where my cock had leapt like a trout on a line when he
said "not outside the villa!" My spongy member had liked that particular
phrase so much because he understood the consequences; if not outside the
villa, then what happened inside the villa?

Now, another step back.

When I was fifteen, I spent a year as an exchange student, attending a high
school in a rather grey industrial town in the far north of France. I was a
pudgy and somewhat awkward teenager with a penchant for languages and a
desperate desire to get out of my midwestern life. I had weaseled the year
abroad out of my parents as payback for putting me through their
divorce. I'd read in the library about sexual liberation in Europe and I
was desperate for some liberation from my own pants.

The town was a disappointment but the year was not. I stayed with a
friendly family that fed me way too much way too good food. I was popular
as an exotic at school in a remote corner of the country that didn't see
many Americans. I had blue jeans and spending money, discs of American
music and an astringent accent that the kids around me were sheltered
enough to take for cool. I learned to play rugby, buy cheese, drive a
motorcycle, and drink wine. The best part was that the boys were incredibly
hot and the girls were very cute.

I knew by then that I was 80% gay and 20% straight. I knew that I loved
younger boys and girls who weren't all gross and hairy like the adults in
the small amount of porn I'd seen. And I knew I desperately loved cumming.

That year I lost my gay virginity to the 14 year old fullback on my rugby
team, my straight virginity to the 13 year old daughter of my host family,
and my mental virginity to Jeunes et Naturels.

Jeunes et Naturels was a nudist magazine for children. That's right, a
nudist magazine for kids. To be honest it was more of a nudist magazine for
folks who liked to look at naked kids. But it was 1994, the net was barely
invented, and in a magazine rack at a new kiosk there, in my sweaty teenage
hands, was a glossy magazine full of naked young boys and girls.

I stole every edition for six months.

Where was this amazing place where cute boys and girls, from tykes to
teens, hung out in the buff, cavorting as casually as at summer camp
without a stitch? I didn't know but I knew I wanted to be there. Plus,
according the the magazines, these special places, called "naturist resorts
and beaches" existed right here in Europe! Mind you, not in a grey northern
town in middle of winter, but how far could it be?

Too far, as it turned out. The school year ended just as summer started
warming up, and off I went back to my midwestern catholic adolescence.

Except I never entirely forgot.

Later, I found myself in my mid-thirties, with lots of schooling under my
belt, several long term relationships done and gone, (one woman, three men)
and a successful career in Chicago. I was in good health, liked my work
even if I worked too hard, and was considered a success by everyone in my
life.

Yet, there was still this dissatisfaction. There existed in my rich
fantasies that naked summer camp of my dreams that I had glimpsed in those
sweat-stained and wrinkled pages. I wanted that.

I had been to a nudist resort in the States, hoping to find a taste. I
loved being naked, but it was a rude wake-up call to my fantasy life. The
resort was filled with retirees with bodies like leathery deflated bags,
skeezy swinger couples, and other odd and undesirable people. I had a cute
college-aged boyfriend back at home, and after a few days I packed it in
and went back to normal. But after the relationship fizzled I found myself
at a loss. I couldn't quite figure what was missing in my life. All I knew
was that I was getting older and the most vivid dream I'd ever had, the
dream that had been sparked that year abroad, still hadn't been fulfilled.

So I took a job in Paris. Moving to Paris in January may be one of the most
miserable things a human could do, but it was just the same exciting and
motivating for me. The language flowed back, the food was even better then
I remembered, and the boys were still sexy and the girls still cute. My
apartment was across from a public sports complex with an indoor pool, and
on those wan winter evenings I would swim laps, checking out the boys in
their mandatory speedos from behind my tinted goggles. There was a lot of
sex in Paris. But it wasn't naked summer camp.

So when the seasons started changing and I started thinking about vacation,
I took the plunge and decided to get naked again, hoping it would go better
this time. I booked a week at a naturist resort on an isolated stretch of
beach north of Biarritz, rented a car, and headed off, hoping that at least
I'd get to glimpse some eye candy of the sort I imagined in my
youth-obsessed boy-crazy fantasy world.

* * *

The whole family was so fucking sexy.

I had been installed a couple of days in the rental trailer I had booked
online. The resort was much nicer then what I had experienced in the
States. It wasn't luxurious, but it was a typical middle-class European
summer village. There were rows of clean, well kept trailers for rent,
camping spaces for the ubiquitous caravans, pitches for budget travelers
with family-sized tents. The beach was a short stroll across some sand
dunes, long and wide and windy and impossibly pretty. The heart of the
resort was a large complex of outdoor buildings with a restaurant, a small
store, a pizza takeout counter and a bar. Right across an open plaza full
of low sofas and tables there was a fenced complex of three swimming pools,
the most popular place to be. There were other amenities spread around;
bathrooms for campers (my practically brand new trailer had its own), a
gym, a popular petanque lawn, a rather neglected tennis court. There was
also a row of very nice looking permanent villas back behind the main
complex; low red-tiled houses surrounded by bougainvillea, with spacious
yards and wooden shutters. I couldn't tell if they were owned by staff or
permanent residents or leased to visitors.

The other guests were an interesting mix. There were lots of old retired
couples like in the States, though they tended to be a bit more fit. They
were mostly German and Dutch. There was a contingent of younger camper
types, straight and gay couples who looked to be seasoned travelers. There
were also families with children.

Given my obsession with naked boys and girls it was the families that
interested me the most. There was a German dad with a cute son of maybe 13
staying down the row from me, a Scandinavian couple with three small
children a few rows over, and a Spanish couple with a beautiful boy of
around eight who was the first adorable kid I saw naked when I laid my far
too white ass out by the pool. But on the morning of the second day is when
my world was rocked by Small, Medium, Large and their two sisters and mum
and pop.

Yeah, they had five kids, an unusually large family for Europe. The girls,
who I called Big Sis and Little Sis, were as beautiful as their brothers in
their own way.

Big Sis was maybe 15. She had nice, incredibly perky cone-shaped buds on
her chest, topped with lovely dark nipples. Did I mention that all the kids
in this family had lovely dark nipples? Her hips had broadened into a nice
shallow curve, her belly was flat but not ripped like her brothers, her
legs were thicker and her ass more heart-shaped. She was probably 5'6, a
tall girl for her age, with the proportions sought after in a model, though
her round face and lack of bizarre cheekbones would keep her off the
runway. She had very long rich brown hair almost to her waist, and was
about as tan as her Middle brother, with no sign of tan lines anywhere. She
had a shyness to her, the only kid in the family who did, undoubtedly a
result of her blooming sexuality. She knew that men admired her I think,
and I did my best to avoid her seeing me watch her.

She had a tiny little brown bush of pubes right above her sex that
glistened in the sun when she came out of the water.

Little Sis was around 10, basically a female version of Middle brother. She
was a bit taller, with incredibly coltish long legs that blended into a
boy's torso of narrow waist and flat chest. Those coltish legs didn't even
come close to rubbing against each other at her crotch when she stood
straight, offering up a boxy silhouette that framed her hairless slit, her
two thin lower lips the occasionally gaped as she stretched or bent. Her
hair was also long and dark black, and she was even more tan then her
sister, a glowing, healthy dark bronze. Of all the kids she was the one
least likely to wear a stitch of clothes anywhere in the resort.

Did I mention that these kids were incredibly sexy?


That morning of my second day all five of these tight little sexpots came
bursting through the gate. The boys were wearing swimsuits, one pair of
shorts on Large, speedos on Medium and Small. Big Sis wore a gauzy
sarong-style wrap of material around her waist. Little Sis was buck naked,
a towel over her shoulder. The kids claimed several chaise lounges,
stripped off with the casual nonchalance of lifelong nudists, and headed
right into the pale clear warm blue pool water.

Mom and dad had followed the hurricane of naked cuteness into the pool
area. Dad was a short, darker man with close cropped curly black hair of
his middle son. He was quite fit, right around my age, and despite a small
bunch of curls of black hair in the middle of his chest and a thick fur on
his legs, not very hairy. He was on the short side and had a rather gallic
head. He almost looked Italian, though his accent pegged him as clearly a
native Frenchman, though with a bit of the slurring consonants and richer
nasal tones of the South. I would guess Toulouse if I had to.

His wife was slightly taller then he was, and considerably lighter in
coloring and hair, though with a deep, rich tan. She had the body of a
woman who had born give children but worked hard to keep her figure. Large
breasts with the big, dark nipples her kids had been lucky to inherit, wide
hips but not unnaturally distended as some mothers appeared, and ample but
well shaped ass with no sign of stretch marks or cottage cheese. She had
not a single hair on her body south of her head, as nude at the crotch as
her younger daughter. Her pussy was large and almost welcoming, as she lay
on the chaise across the pool from me, offering me a targeted view of the
fleshy hole from which these beauties had emerged. Women don't do much for
me but she was certainly one I could imagine knowing her way comfortably
around a cock. I suppose it didn't hurt that she lived with four nice, fat
uncut ones.

The kids had swum, frolicked, teased and played for an hour while I
pretended not to watch. This whole family, something about them just made
some part of me go clump. They were so at ease with each other,
physically. I'd grown up in a typical catholic body-shame household, and to
see kids so willing to lay thigh to thigh on a towel on the hot apron of
the pool was oddly moving, both above and below the waist. I laid there on
my belly and watched them without a moment's boredom for that whole
hour. They mesmerized me.

After lunch and the typical summer afternoon nap, I had made my way back to
the pool and taken up my position, knowing what I was waiting for now. This
show was so much better then those old magazines. The pool area started to
fill up, and eventually my three bears appeared; Small, Medium, and Large
stripped out and engaged the play button. They were apparently already
friends with all the other kids at the resort around their age who spoke
French and they played pool games with the cashier's dark, cute son, a
couple of pale thin boys from the north, and a long-haired gawky German boy
in his early teens who spoke his classroom French with them. These three
boys, these natural graceful animals, were a tornado of energy that pulled
other kids into their orbit.

Big and Little Sis showed up and joined the show, Little Sis taking up the
advantageous position directly in my line of sight that gave me a marvelous
take on her immature pussy. She lay in the sun, legs askew, labial lips
open like a sleeper's mouth, not a thought of modesty in her head. Finally,
Mama and Papa showed up to gather their cubs and herd them off for
dinner. It was a good thing since by then I was starting to get deeply
sunburnt.

I packed up and headed for the little grocery, where you could shop
naked. It had seemed a bit bizarre, standing in a produce section with your
junk hanging out. But we're social animals and we do what we see others
do. Waiting for the girl at the cheese counter I noticed Mama and Big Sis
were queued up next to me. I gave them a friendly but noncommittal smile.

"You are new here?" It took me a moment to realize that Mama was talking to
me.

"Um, yes. It's my first year."

"I could tell" she said, making a good-natured nod toward my red ass. "Make
sure you don't burn".

"Thanks. I'm putting on lots of lotion." It was a statement that could have
been said with a leer, but I worked hard to avoid it.

"You are English?"

"American."

"Ah, we don't get too many Americans here." She had switched to clear, if
accented English. "They are so, what is the word, tendu..."

"Uptight."

"Yes. Zhey are uptight."

"You know my countrymen well."

A smile exchanged as her oldest son approached, dick swinging between his
tan firm legs, to ask her to buy him some sugary cereal. I left her to her
mothering (she told him no) and headed for the checkout, trying my best to
think of baseball, stock scores, Republican politicians, anything unsexy,
anything but that swinging dick. It would have been bad form to pop a boner
in middle of the market.

* * *

The moon was a narrow crescent sliver low out over the ocean. The waves
crashed with a dull roar out across the dunes. It was a warm summer
night. I guided my rented bike down the rows of the resort, wearing nothing
but a pair of nylon basketball shorts, acceptable attire at night, though
during the day clothes were generally frowned upon.

I was on the hunt, trying to find where my sexy family of seven were
staying. I had heard a gaggle of high-pitched voices, a good dozen kids or
so running through the night, voices echoing in the hedges. I followed them
until I had seen Small running through the dark with a flashlight in his
hand, his white ass flashing in the little bit of moonlight there was. He
raced around a few hedges and over a wide stretch of lawn into the lighted
doorway of one of the permanent villas.

It was a long low rectangle of a house in the most secluded corner of the
resort, behind the main complex, next to the dusty tennis court. Hedges
separated it from the row that led to the pool area, so I steered my bike
around the restaurant to the loading dock in the back. There was an
employee parking lot and a darkened access road that ran back between the
tennis court and the back of the villa. Leaving my bike against a tree I
continued on foot, my flashlight unlighted in my hand, just a dude out for
a casual walk, nobodies business, enjoying the soft sea air of summer.

Past the tennis courts were several clumps of bushes that came within a few
meters of the back of the villa. I had a half-formed plan in mind. I didn't
know exactly what I was going to do, but I just knew I needed another view
of those beautiful kids and their hot parents before I went back to my
trailer and jerked another load out of my cock, something I'd already done
two times after getting back from my afternoon viewing pleasure. I just
needed a quick peek. I'd never been a peeping tom, but, well, it was a
nudist resort. I'd already seen the goods, now I was just going back for a
freshener.

The chain link fence that ran along the back of the tennis courts on one
side, the bushes on the other, I approached the back wall of the villa. In
standard southern vacation villa fashion, there was no glass in the
windows, just the heavy wooden shutters that could be pulled shut against
the elements. It was a warm night and the shutters were open. The windows
along the back included a large french door that did have glass in it that
looked into the kitchen. I could see Mama, now wearing a t-shirt, standing
at the sink doing some Mama kind of work, either washing dishes or making
food. There was a couch I could spot in the family room behind the kitchen,
and the top of Large Brother's sexy shorn head was sticking up as he held a
book near his face, reading. I continued a little further down.

These windows were smaller, obviously for bedrooms or bathrooms. One small
square window was shut, and I could hear a shower running. At the far
corner of the villa I could see a bedroom wall through the double open
shutters. That's when I stumbled across the stump.

A tree had been cut off where it had pushed up against the tennis court
fence. It created a stump maybe eighteen inches high, just enough to climb
easily onto it. As I stood gingerly up to my full height, I realized that
the stump allowed me an excellent view over the bushes into the bedroom on
the corner. I realized that the room was furnished with a bunk bed against
the far wall. I realized that on the top bunk the Middle brother lay on his
back with a computer on his chest and one hand on the mouse. I realized
that the other arm reached under the computer.

I realized that Middle was vigorously jacking his very hard cock.

There he was, nine years old, tan and cute, black hair and ripped little
belly, popped out boy chest and pinch-me nipples, long neck curved to take
in the laptop screen, red tongue darting over full lips, cock in fist being
roundly assaulted.

He jerked with a practiced rhythm, pounding his pud with style. After a
moment he slid the laptop aside, stuck out his tongue over the corner of
his upper lip, and started paying attention. Without a moment's hesitation
I fished my own rigid seven inches out of my shorts and started matching
his beat.

That's when, uh-oh, Little Sis appeared in the doorway. Watch out Middle!

She was nude and she sauntered into the room. I wasn't sure if she could
tell what her Middle brother was doing up there on the top bunk from where
she stood. But then she stepped onto the bottom rung of the bunk bed ladder
and pulled herself up a step, coming eye to foot with her brother. Busted.

I could see them talking to each other without making out the words. Then I
noticed a remarkable thing.

HE WAS STILL JACKING OFF!

He hadn't even slowed his speed. Here he was, talking casually to his
ten-year-old sister, beating his meat like he was leading a band.

Then Little Sis took another step up the ladder and vaulted up into the
bunk bed.

Then Little Sis spread her long, perfectly tanned legs and straddled her
brother.

That's when he stopped jerking off, but only because Little Sis reached
down between her legs, grabbed her brother's erection, yanked it into
position below her, and, with a practiced pop, slid it right into her
tight, hairless snatch.

Yeah, I came. Right then. Hard.

My cum flew out from me, spattering the bushes with a soft splat, and I let
out just a little sigh. But I didn't even slow down. My erection wasn't
going away, not while watching these perfectly fit, perfectly formed
pre-adolescent animals fucking each other not twenty feet away.

She rode him like she'd been riding all her life. She almost looked bored,
it was so unexceptional. Just the same, she was fingering herself while
slamming up and down, leaning her head back, her back arching. She was
enjoying it. And Middle was driving up into her with a sportsman's
concentration.

I noticed a bit of movement to the right and tore my eyes away. In the
bedroom doorway stood Big Sis, watching the action. While she watched, she
lazily fingered the folds below her little brown bush. Then from behind her
the blond mop of her youngest brother squeezed into the room. He was like I
saw him before, lazily masturbating with one hand. His other hand was
holding a smart phone with that weird casual concentration of a kid playing
a video game. Not even bothering to look up at his brother and sister, he
climbed onto the lower bunk and continued to play his game with one hand
and his cock with the other.

Jesus, I came again. And still, I was hard.

Big Sis was gone now, and my concentration was back on the fucking couple,
who hadn't even changed their cadence. That's when half my view was
suddenly obscured. One of the two shutters had slammed shut.

In the other shutter's square of light, the face of Papa appeared. I hadn't
even noticed that he had come into the room. He was peering, with what was
plainly suspicion, out into the darkness. I instinctively doubled over,
cock still in hand. Fear raced through me as I thought "oh no, I'll be
outed as a peeping tom." Papa looked around some more, but his gaze never
settled on me. Then he slammed the other shutter closed. Show was over.

I climbed down off the stump and sat down, waiting for my erection to
subside. I was still filled with adrenal fear at almost being caught. My
breathing slowly came back to normal. Then a wonderful thought flooded into
me and the fear disappeared as fast as it had come.

"They all have sex" I thought, making my cock leap back to attention. "All
of them, all of this family. There is no way that, given the casual nature
of what I witnessed tonight, that it was anything but a daily, regular,
unexceptional thing. They all have sex, whenever they feel like it."

"And I know this. I don't need to be afraid about getting caught
peeping. They need to be afraid of what I know".

"They need to be afraid of me."