Chapter 4

I went to Caracas, Atlanta and Jo’burg for about a month and dabbled here and there. Helen picked me up at Stanstead in the Cherokee and drove home. I’d bought bits and pieces for the ladies and would give them their presents the next day. We had lunch out on the patio as a family, a bottle of French Sauvignon Blanc went down well, and both Helen and Louise kept on grinning and giggling, not disclosing after several anguished requests what the subject was. I must admit both of them looked ravishing in bikinis. I’d seen and handled a few bikinis over my travels, but Helen’s sparkling white version was perfect over her tanned full figure and Lou’s real live, itsy, bitsy, teeny, pale blue version rivalled her mother’s in sensuality. While they cleared up, I unpacked my stuff, most into the wash basket and had a shower.

Out of the bathroom I was stunned by them both blocking my passage. I was stark ballock naked, but they were posing seductively, dressed in crisp white, fancy dress ribald nurse outfits. They both had an arm out, elbows on waists, a sexy twist to their torsos and from the fingers in the supported hands, Helen slung a sanitary towel and Louise dangled a tampon.

“Ta da!” they announced in unison with a big smile.

“What the fu... ?”

“Come on expert, which of us first?” snickered a slightly unsure Helen as she noticed my semi hard cock, still surging from the hard fluctuating hot/cold shower I’d played on it, with it – one of my little privates moments in all showers. Lou’s eyes were riveted to my groin and I had no towel.

“Sorry darlings, what... ?

“You’re the expert daddy and we both need a fit...”Lou couldn’t contain herself and collapsed in a giggling fit.

“I see, you’ve talked about ... er?”

“Course we have you silly boy,” shrieked Helen. “Now we’re both in need of a refit, so who’s it going to be first?”

“C’mon girls, you can’t be serious, anyway you use those,” I argued, pointing at the tampon.

“There you go again ... expert,” disdainfully chuckled my wife, nudging Lou with her knee, who was crouching down in her fit.

What was then evident, something I’d missed in their freakish getup was the black stockings and in Lou’s case that always - turnon tablet, the flash of bare legs against the grey/black stocking top. Helen picked up my vibes and flashed her hem a little higher and sure enough more nylon welts.

I had a major decision to make for fucks sake.

“You serious ... really?” I asked getting firm nods in return.

“Yes you dummy,” said Helen, remarkably switched on. “Christ! you’ve been away from us two hot bitches too long mate.”

“Well I don’t know ... er Lou isn’t exact...”

“She’s a hot bitch Jim. She’s learning and growing fast if you hadn’t noticed.”

I managed to get past them into our bedroom, reckoning a towel or any cover up was immaterial, I’d been naked before them too long to be embarrassed.

“OK darling you first,” I suggested, evilly thinking ahead that I might spend more time with Lou, although my missus is seriously hot and back to normal procedures. “But don’t you want a tampon. You usually do.”

“Oooh get you Mr Know it all,” she mocked, glancing at our daughter. “ ... but then you’re right. Apparently the material in one could cause infection, so it’s all external until my next check ... so?”

She brandished the sanitary pad and sat, then laid back on the bed. I looked at Lou as if to say off you go, but she remained, perched back on the edge of Helen’s dressing table.

“Er Louise darling, I’ll deal with you later,”

“She’s staying darling,” murmured Helen. “ We agreed.”

“I did not,” I said outraged.

“We did, Louise and I, come on get on with it,” Helen retorted, with a smirk.

WTF?

I couldn’t win with these two. I grabbed the new pad from Helen’s fist and unwrapped it. Her legs were already open. It was a magnificent sight and one I’ve lusted over all married years and before.

The faux skirt was up round her bum and her stockings strained the black straps of her mauve and pink patterned suspenders. The gusset of her white, sensible panties was slightly stained and I glanced questioning her. She told me she’d just started. For fucks sake I’d never been asked ... or told to change her pads. She drew her legs high, the rear straps carving beautiful curves over her fleshy butt, the existing pad protruding either side of the cotton panty edges.

I reckoned the correct way would be to remove her knickers, so I grasped the top under her bum and eased them down. The pad fell away with them, badly stained dark red and soggy too, even though they were supposed to soak all her discharge up.

Helen’s gorgeous snatch wasn’t looking it’s prettiest and was dribbling dark blood. There was an odour I’d never faced before. Clumsily I gathered her soiled pad, trying not to get it on the duvet and Lou helpfully stepped forward, probably noticing my lack of confidence and know how, with a waste bin and I dropped it in. She also offered me a pack of industrial size wet wipes and left the bin beside the bed. Thoughts of our beloved young daughter watching this very private procedure had left my head in the intensity of the unusual circumstances. Helen watched all my novice actions, her head propped on a pillow, with interest and amusement, but kept quiet.

Wiping my wife’s cunt was enjoyable in the least, but still it leaked a soupçon of fanny stuff.

“Dab it then put the pad straight on,” she urged quietly, spotting my concern.

This I did, smoothing the pad and tucking it under her. I grabbed her panties, but was halted by Lou who handed me a clean flimsy, close fitting, dark purple pair of briefs. I slipped them on Helen. The edges of the pad were designed to wrap along each side of the gusset I knew and completed that successfully. The contact of my shaking hands and my wife’s intimate parts was exciting and my cock showed no sign of wilting, probably because my concentration was diverted, but luckily they both refrained from commenting. It just waggled around in front of me. I gave my hands a wipe and checked everything was sufficiently intact and offered Helen a hand up, which she took. On rising upright she reached for my neck and pulled me low to plant a big wet kiss on my mouth.

“Thank you sweetheart, very well done,” she complimented me, standing up. “Shall I offer your services on the surgery notice board?” she chuckled, smiling naughtily. “Come on Lou, your turn now.”

In a jiffy, our daughter was supine on the marital bed, her fancy dress skirt up under her butt. Fuck! she looked eminently shaggable. Helen was sat on the dressing table stool watching with interest, but I was in a strange dilemma. They had planned all this and clearly had the watch agenda sorted, so was it to judge my reactions, testing my fatherly fortitude.

“Look both of you, is this really necessary... ?” I gestured at Helen watching. “It’s not something I need to know or do, yes it happened back then when Lou was struggling the first time, but she’s done it herself since then. I mean...”

“Daddy, just do it. We’re fine aren’t we mummy,” said Lou without humour, just telling me.

Helen nodded.

Once again bull by horns came to mind and I reverted my gaze, where else? to the lovely vision on the bed. To see my daughter in laughable, in one way, but titillating in another way, outfit with her long legs wide open, black stockings taut and tied to black satin suspenders and the gusset of her black plain panties being cleared away from her pubic mound because she’d put the belt on before her panties was incredibly sexy. Her shaved and yes now quite stubbly cunt was all to see.

I hauled her undies off and there was no sign of the tampon string. I looked at her, she grinned. I looked at Helen and she did the same.

“But... ?” I quizzed.

“Something we all have to to sometimes darling, find it,” snickered Helen.

WTF? This meant I had to stick my fingers inside a bleeding pussy, inside my daughter’s bleeder under the watchful eye of my wife.

Oh well. Forefinger and thumb located the string not too far up her young snatch and I tugged it gently. I tensed my cock. A good six inches of soggy, dark red stained cotton appeared, then the engorged bulb which had soaked up Lou’s waste secretions. It was fucking enormous, coloured as per the string and is plopped heavily out, it made a slight stain on the duvet, silly me, I’d forgotten any under covering and so had they, as it happened. Neither seemed to bother, well Lou wouldn’t see, and Helen knew she’d launder the stuff anyway. I dropped the bulb into the bin and proceeded to wipe Lou’s cute neat fanny and pat it dry.

The fair bristles round her minge were quite substantial, she took after me in the regrowth stakes and I wondered what had transpired when Helen had found out and whether Louise and Cecily had further plans on the depilation front, but it had been a few weeks, so I would have thought they would have decided smooth or not by now.

I felt a close presence, Helen had leaned forward offering a clean tampon. She smiled forgivingly as I took it with a pained expression, both of us getting reciprocal message. With my previous vast? knowledge of doing this once before, I unwrapped the cotton finger and aimed at Lou’s ready cunt. She looked so ready to be fucked solid, in her naughty nurse uniform, legs wide apart – oops now held high and clasped towards her torso, the black stockings and suspenders framing her open crotch and her cute little bum hole, nicely bordered with natural blonde hair.

Now standing next to me, Helen reached for my erection.

“You want to fuck her don’t you?” she snickered, reaching for my waving erection.

“C’mon Helen, don’t be silly. It’s little Louise our daughter, you talking about. Cause I don’t...”

Suddenly I was on top of Lou who was clutching me close and wrapping her legs round me. My wife had pushed me down.

She was young and slender but Louise had a hold on me which was strong and my cock was trapped under her crack and while hard and ready, it was quite painful, being bent awkwardly. I had to release it and eased my butt. Lou released me too, just enough so I could adjust the lay of my tool and fuck me, my knob lodged in her juicy snatch.

“Do it daddy please,” she murmured.

“Yes do it Jim, it’s OK we understand and it’s just between us.”

“But ... it’s incest and not...”

I protested, but to no avail as Lou slid and my dick was then more enveloped in her teen pussy, while she shoved up at me. She was hot, tight and pulsing things in there, lubricated and more to the point unable to conceive.

Helplessly I glanced up at Helen, standing there like a very naughty nurse, approval writ large on her lovely mature doctoral face. I had no choice. I thrust further and bottomed out. I did have a choice – withdraw, upset two loving women and regret? No that’s fucking stupid, you won’t regret – my brain was in turmoil which way to go, but Lou was working her cuntal magic, where did she learn these things? and my cock was being urged to fuck her rocks off.

I succumbed to the weird, unnatural experience with gusto and rammed at her, Lou’s face etched with delight, her hands scraping my back, her legs gripping me like a dog round a bitch. I sensed further movement and Helen had moved to the head of the bed and lounged across it, smiling and lightly frigging her cunt beneath her picturesque panties. It was an incredible sight and feeling to be watched by the very person who’d given birth to the person I could – in different circumstances – create another person with.

Needless to say I orgasmed quickly and gasped lying down on my daughter, feeling her vagina pulsing along my cock as Helen stroked my back.

Easing out, I sank to my knees at the foot of the bed and gazed at Lou’s battered crotch. It was greasy, smeared with blood and gore, but damn sexy in the way it was slowly closing. I looked down at my swiftly diminishing penis – it too was greasy and smeared, and dripping. I grabbed a wet wipe and tidied up.

Lou had raised her torso up on her elbows and was smiling and panting, looking somewhat unprofessionally nurse like, dishevelled and so young. I wiped and dried her crotch and got on with my task – I’d not forgotten.

I aimed the tampon at the little open area of her twat. The first time I’d seen it, all was buttoned up so to speak, but the exiting of the monstrous swollen swab had left a small aperture. I shoved it in, making sure it was well in, my finger being inches in her young “minnie” and withdrew. It was slightly smeared and very slimy and I wiped it. About six inches of immaculate white curly string cascaded from Louise’s lush lips, like a single stream waterfall as it should.

“There you’re done Lou. That’s it phew!” I giggled, standing between her lowered limbs, glancing at Helen who stood and stepped to examine my handiwork, finishing with a nod of approval, a pat on my bottom and quick, gentle flick on my sunken knob.

In the end, we showered together and I was left to do masses of paper work, while Helen made some calls and Louise watched some TV.

The invitation to Trev and Judy’s house warming party arrived. It was timed to suit the running of a horse race at Sandown Park, where a filly they had a syndicate share in was having it’s first race. The invite included a section of the race card, so that guests could arrive to watch the six furlong dash or arrive later. We agreed it would be fun to watch the race, which was bound to be accompanied by lashings of wine during and maybe champagne if it won. We knew it would be smart casual dress, so Lou and Helen had bought some stunning outfits and swim suits.I had but didn’t intend to use mine – at all. They had bought me some new beige chinos, a couple of polo shirts and given me a voucher for a pair of loafers, to be exchanged if not the right fit or style. Helen had often bought my gear and I trusted her completely.

I ordered a taxi, I would drive us there and leave the car overnight, hang the expense sort of thing and use Helen’s Saab coupé to go back and collect.

Judy had softened a lot towards me, I think because I’d been so attentive and caring for her sister and looked after Lou, so we settled in happily, with wine and nibbles, all catered for with two hired waiting staff, of course, it was Judy, and I as always surveyed the scene ... the women. There was a comically sexual interlude on the TV from the course, when Good Story, the filly, romped home and apparently had come into season during the gallop and was nearly mounted by an Irish gelding of all things, by the name of Sir Snowy. She must have smelt good as he was a close second and was a total outsider. The sweet odour of pussy affects many things.

Quite a lot of folk didn’t bother with the race and were lounging round the in/out pool. It was a fine day, with the lightest of breeze from the south and France was suffering a heat wave soon to hit us. The big pool was sheltered and a few people sat or lounged around it, some in bathers, some not. I watched the racing while Lou and Helen basked in the sun, during the horse racing to be joined by no other that April, Grant and Cecily. The racing had been second attraction for me, beside one of Judy’s pals, whose tall, statuesque, portly figure, dressed for the pool was nothing but damn sexy. Her swimsuit was a one piece turquoise colour, high cut at her groin, and low cut round her tumultuous chest. I guessed she figured herself in the same cut as Judy, above her station, well off, in a superior job or marriage. When I first saw her, she was well tanned, she was leaning at the bar, talking to Judy who was pouring drinks and her arse was the first thing to attract my roving eye. It was big and her cheeks riddled with cellulite dimples, but because of the cut of her swimsuit, her buttocks were divided into four sections. The two outer parts, unencumbered by material were lovely, rolling and fleshy. The inners were firmer, held in the costume, over ruled by the rolls of bum flesh squeezed by the stitching.

The sexy – to me - element, was the cut which was really too small and revealing for her. I found out later her name was MerryLou McDonagh, and she was not a small, pert, hour glass shaped page 3 model. The Irish Amrican member of the syndicate turned and leaned back against the bar, her elbows firmly preventing her sliding forward, her already half full glass of Chardonnay held firm. Where to look first?

She was no spring chicken, beneath her tousled, grey blonde mane which was shoulder length, she had a lived in but carefully made up strong featured face, somewhat raddled appearance, with myriads of lines round her skilfully painted mouth. I Googled her at home the next day and established her age to be 61. She was looking fucking good. Her husband Norm, was suffering dementia, extremely wealthy, but happily drinking Trev’s best malt whisky in our host’s study, ostensibly out of the sun and noise accompanied by his male carer, an obvious queer.

MerryLou’s tits were large and heavy, low slung and supported by the top of her one piece, which like the bottom piece was a tad small ... As I said, it was deep cut and revealed a long dark ravine, with pale surrounds which bulged out, obviously not a nude bather. Her nipples looked massive, trying to burst through her thin and no doubt expensive top. She had a belly, nice and rotund and then her crotch, well that was a wow! At each side of the slender, for her, narrow vee of blue green material, was a layer of pubic mound adding to the overall look of her flesh trying to explode out of being so restricted. The joy of seeing her full frontal was her clear, deep camel toe. Certainly I was in the right place. I couldn’t get close enough to determine if she hadn’t tucked all her fanny hairs in the swim suit, but was pretty she would have done, I mean she wasn’t a ingénue at beach wear. The lady was spectacularly good to ogle. I noticed her legs were chubby, with cute little creases above each fat knee and then they tapered down to shapely ankles and small, flip flop shod painted feet.