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From: jibsheet26@hotmail.com (Jib)
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NNTP-Posting-Date: 9 Oct 2001 22:42:19 GMT
Subject: {ASSM} Riviera, Chapter 2 (M/F, story development, talk about sex)
Date: Wed, 10 Oct 2001 03:10:03 -0400
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Riviera, Chapter 2
by: Jibsheet
(c) 2001 - commercial reposting prohibited.

----------------
Author's Note: "Riviera" was originally written as a 
single story. One of my readers, though, pointed out 
some excellent opportunities in this story line. So, 
thanks to her suggestions, I'm going to make a stab at 
extending this story. Kudos to Hopeless Romantic for 
spotting the potential!

As always, comments are welcome at 
jibsheet26@hotmail.com 
or at my website:
http://jibsheet.tripod.com/
----------------


	The dining room was a little more populated the 
next morning, but I looked in vain for any sign of Vi 
and her mother, Carole. I checked out and headed for 
Toulouse, to return the rent car and catch my train to 
Paris.

	I drove like an automaton through the beautiful 
countryside, my mind constantly drawn to the images 
from the afternoon before: Vi's supple young body 
straddling my own, the feeling of her smooth, wet cunt 
on my fingers, of her tiny breasts in the palms of my 
hands. I heard, over and over again, the mingled 
orgasmic cries of mother and daughter, and I felt - my 
prick stiffening each time - Vi's tight cunt 
enveloping my hard cock.

	The honking of an angry truck drive pulled me out 
of my reverie, on the outskirts of Toulouse. For the 
next several minutes, I was fully occupied finding my 
way through the maze of streets to the train station, 
where I returned the car, purchased my ticket, and 
ordered a espresso in the station bar.

	Sipping the dark sweet liquid, my thoughts turned 
again to the pair. For a moment, I put aside the lust 
that Vi's youth aroused in me, and wondered at their 
strange arrangement. Why, for instance, did Carole 
show no interest in being fucked, and yet become so 
completely aroused as she watched me fuck her 
daughter? Voyeurism I definitely understood, but this 
was her own *daughter*...and what about her obvious 
desire to drink my cum from her daughter's cunt? 

Carole had spoken of her daughter being with "many 
other men" - good god, how long had she been fucking? 
If she was only, at a guess, about 15 now? Darkly, I 
remembered that her mother had initiated the whole 
encounter - did that mean that she had deliberately 
made a whore of her daughter? True, no money had 
changed hands between us, but the pleasure of watching 
my hands on her daughter's body, my cock in her 
daughter's cunt, seemed to be the payment I had made 
to her.

Was there a father in this family? What about other 
children? As I threw my bag into the overhead on the 
train, I couldn't help but wonder what might go on in 
the rest of the family, if this was any indication!

The green fields sped by outside the train window. 
Inside the train, inside my head, I fought a mental 
battle with myself. I had their address, and their 
invitation - I could be enjoying the girl's beautiful 
body again, possibly even tonight! Vi's pull on my 
lust was magnetic, but...(come on, be sensible for a 
minute!) what was I letting myself in for? I didn't 
know the laws of France, but I strongly suspected 
there had to be something on the books about adult men 
and underage girls! And what *were* the mother's 
motives? Was this truly just how she got herself off, 
or would I be putting myself into the middle of what 
could become a very ugly situation?

I struggled with the issues for most of the trip. 
Climbing down from the train in the Montparnasse 
station, I was no farther along. Reason almost 
prevailed for a moment, when I passed a trash bin, and 
stopped...I could throw the card away, and be done 
with it...leave it as just a memory of an incredible 
sexual interlude...but then lust clouded my better 
judgment, and showed me the image of Vi, naked except 
for her tiny bikini bottom, lying in the lounge chair 
by the hotel pool. 

I put the card back in my pocket.

--++--

	Several times in the next few days, I found 
myself in the St. Germain district. The card was still 
in my pocket, and I would wander the streets near the 
address (but never THE street) - hoping, perhaps, that 
a chance encounter with Carole or Vi would settle the 
issue. Chance had already played her hand, though, in 
that small town in the south of France. Now she looked 
at me, and waited on my response.
 
	The building was an older one, with an cobbled 
drive that led into an interior courtyard. There was a 
booth for the concierge, but it did not look as if one 
had worked there for many years. I skirted the closely 
packed cars in the courtyard, found the stairway, and 
climbed to the 4th floor. 

	The door swung open in answer to my ring, and I 
was looking at a young woman, a smart example of the 
Parisian college crowd. Her hair was dark, and framed 
a pretty face with lustrous blue eyes - I had seen 
that same shade of blue, in the eyes of a naked young 
girl, several days before!
	
	"Bonjour," I said, holding out the card, "I was 
hoping to find Carole here?"

	She looked at the card, turned it over and read 
the back, and then gave me a piercing stare. For a 
second, I thought she might close the door in my face, 
but then she spoke.

	"My mother is not here."

	So there *were* other members in this family! I 
took the card back, and began my retreat.

	"I'm sorry...I met your mother, and your sister, 
several days ago in the south. She asked me to call 
when I reached Paris...I'll call again, perhaps, when 
she's here?"

	 "Perhaps...she'll be back later, but I'm not 
sure when."

	I noticed, as she spoke, a definite trace of an 
American accent, and the American use of contractions. 
Clearly, though, she did not want me to hang about. I 
thanked her, and turned to top of the stairs, 
conscious that she remained at the open door, even as 
I started down the steps.

	"Wait! Wait a minute, please!"

	I turned back.

	"I must talk to you, before you see my mother 
again. Will you...will you buy me a drink in the 
cafe?"

	"With pleasure." 

	She pulled the door shut behind her, and I 
crowded against the wall to let her pass me onto the 
narrow stairs. As we descended, I was happy to admire 
her figure, set off by her tight skirt and blouse. I 
wondered if the already pretty young Vi would become 
as beautiful as this, in a few years.



	Around the corner, we settled at a small table on 
the sidewalk, and ordered vin rouge. The cafe crowds 
were dense - animated conversation filled the air, in 
competition with the frantic noise of early evening 
Paris traffic. We sat in silence, though, until I 
asked her about her English.

	"I went to college in the United States. 
Columbia, in New York. Where are you from?"

	I gave her my background, and we began a pleasant 
conversation that touched on every subject but the one 
she wanted. Her name was Simone, and I could easily 
have spent the warm evening admiring her beautiful 
face and figure, and listening to her voice. The 
family, it seemed, was just the three of them - her 
mother, Vi, and herself. She was doing post-graduate 
work at the Paris University. Her father had left 
several years before. Her mother didn't work, didn't 
have to, since the checks came in regularly from her 
father. We ordered another round, and the second 
glasses were nearly empty when the awkward silence 
fell between us again.

	"Did you fuck her?"

	The question startled me - not just because I 
thought she might not know about her mother and her 
sister, but for it's bold direction. I thought of 
pretending ignorance, or perhaps pretending a liaison 
with her mother, but her knowing eyes warned me that 
the truth was needed.

	"Yes."

	"And now you want her again." She read the answer 
in my face. 

	"It's always like that, you know...the men, even 
the boys, they can't resist her. Just as they couldn't 
resist me when I was her age."

	"You would be hard to resist now, Simone." I 
played the gallant, somewhat stupidly, trying 
desperately to resolve the implications of her words. 
Again, she seemed to read my mind.

	"Oh yes, it's been going on for a long time. And 
not just what you know, not just Vi, not just me. 
There are other things, things that you wouldn't 
believe. Why do you think Papa left?"

	I didn't answer, couldn't answer. 

	She leaned forward, and covered my hand with 
hers. "You don't want to know us, Doug...Go away, go 
enjoy Paris. Remember my pretty young sister in the 
middle of the night when you get yourself off, but 
don't come back to our house!"

	"But..."

	"Look, don't you see? There's something wrong 
with us...all of us...even me. I'm just as crazy as 
they are, I do things..." she closed her eyes for a 
minute, as if to push something vision away. Then the 
words came in a rush:

	"Do you want to know where my mother and my 
sister are right now? I'll tell you...it's Tuesday, so 
they are at my uncle's apartment. Every Tuesday, like 
clockwork, Vi goes from school to his apartment, and 
my mother meets her there." She glanced at her watch. 
"It's six o'clock, and I can tell you with absolute 
certainty that my sister is, at this moment, on her 
knees between my uncle's legs. She still has her 
school skirt and stockings on, but her breasts are 
bare, those pretty little breasts that she probably 
enticed you with. She has his cock in her mouth, and 
she's sucking him, right now! My mother? Well, you 
know what she likes. She's sitting beside my uncle, 
with her hand between her legs, telling Vi how to suck 
him. My mother and my uncle will cum together, and 
when my uncle fills Vi's pretty little mouth with his 
cum, my mother will drink it...from her daughter's own 
mouth!"

	She took a quick drink. 

	"How do you think I know this? You're right - I 
spent every Tuesday afternoon of MY schooldays between 
my uncle's legs, too! And yes, I gave his cum to my 
mother, too, just as Vi will do in a while. Then 
they'll come home, just as if Vi had been to a piano 
lesson, or something like that. And our evening will 
be quite normal - unless, of course, one of Vi's OTHER 
men comes over." She laughed, sarcastically. "You 
didn't think you were the only one, did you?"

	"No, I knew I wasn't...your mother told me that."

	"Of course she would. It's part of what excites 
her. You've seen how hard she cums, watching her 
daughter get fucked. No...watching her *daughters* get 
fucked. She loves the idea that her daughter's bodies 
are available to men, even though hers is not. Oh, 
it's no use..."

	She fell back against her chair, pushing her hair 
away. A sad smile crossed her face as she looked at 
me, and her words were slower, softer.

	"I know it's no use, trying to warn you. You want 
my sister too badly, and you probably think your ideas 
of what happens in our house sound like paradise...you 
want to know more, don't you? Look, shall I tell you 
what will happen if you come back to the house?" She 
sighed. "Get me another drink, please..."

	I waved at the waiter, gave him his disdainful 
stare right back, indicated our wine glasses and held 
up two fingers. He gave the barest of nods, and headed 
back for the bar.

	"If you come back to our house, my mother will 
invite you to stay. We have a lovely guest bedroom, 
with huge bed - perfect for fucking - I should know, 
I've been fucked in it many times. We'll laugh and 
talk together, and you'll be hot with thoughts of my 
sister's body. She'll come to you in the night, and 
you'll enjoy her...she's very good, I know. I'll be 
listening, Doug...I'll hear her moans, and I'll hear 
you cum in her, more than once, I'm sure."

	She paused for the waiter, then went on: "My 
mother won't be there, not that first 
night...although, like me, she will listen, and, like 
me, she will make herself cum. No, she'll let you 
enjoy Vi on your own, but her payment will come 
later."

	"The days will pass pleasantly, and be full of 
variety. You and I will fuck, too..." She laughed at 
my startled look. "Oh yes, I told you...I'm as much a 
part of this as my sister is. You'll like fucking me, 
I've been doing it for a long time...I'm very good, 
but you can decide which of us is better, my sister or 
me. And..." she caught her breath..."And I'll enjoy it 
too, Doug...I'll want it, badly, and I'll be envious 
when your cock is in my sister's cunt and not in mine. 
Does that shock you as much as it should? No? Would it 
shock you to know that other men will come to the 
house, even while you're there...other men who will 
fuck me, or my sister? Will it shock you when my 
mother asks - no, demands - that you join a group of 
men and women and abuse my sister's body in the vilest 
of ways? No?"

	She laughed - a short, bitter laugh. "That will 
only be the beginning...you will end up longing to be 
free of us, and you will try to leave...but you will 
come back.....they always come back....."

	Her words trailed off into silence, as I thought 
over what she had said. It was too much to take in, 
all at once like this...

	Simone shook herself, and looked at her watch. 
Leaning forward again, she smiled at me, and once more 
covered my hand with hers.

	"What an idiot I am. You're an adult, you can 
make up your own mind about these things." I felt her 
fingertips caressing the back of my hand. "Part of me 
hopes that you *do* decide to come to the house...we'd 
have a lot of fun together, you and I! Thanks for the 
drink...perhaps I'll see you again, perhaps not...."

	With that, she was gone. I drained the rest of my 
glass, threw some coins in the little saucer, and 
headed off towards the boulevard and the Metro. I 
don't remember a single thing about that trip back to 
the hotel, though.

--end--

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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