In the Long Run
Copyright© 2024 by The Horse With No Name
Chapter 74: Swiss Delights
Incest Sex Story: Chapter 74: Swiss Delights - Mark and Lydia hit a lot of bumps during the cold war and fate eventually brings them to the other side of the globe, but even there the challenges don't end. This is the founding story of my planned "It's always the Germans" universe, which will be created when this story reaches the year 1998.
Caution: This Incest Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa mt/ft mt/Fa Consensual Romantic Lesbian Heterosexual Fiction Sports Incest Mother Son Light Bond Anal Sex Double Penetration Exhibitionism First Massage Oral Sex Pegging Petting Nudism
Mark
Ilka and Mario had spent most of the evening trading blushes. Apparently they had put on quite a spectacular show while Femke and I had been busy in the shower.
The cross-country sprint competition the next day was a relatively new format. Normally, races were between five kilometers and thirty kilometers long, usually run over a 5km lap between one and six times. In a bid to make the sport more attractive to viewers, the authorities had invented the sprint format.
The track was only about a mile long, so most of it fit inside the stadium section that most venues had. Such a short distance was Kryptonite to Lydia and Nadja, but it was perfect for someone like Femke. In such a discipline her muscular build came in very handy, while it was more of a hindrance over longer distances.
In a bid to make the discipline even more attractive to viewers, the races were not run in the normal time-trial style, where every athlete started by herself and the winner was decided by the time.
Sprint races were run as a knockout competition. Six athletes started together and the two fastest advanced to the next round with ‘lucky losers’, the two fastest third place finishers advancing as well.
As could be expected, Nadja and Lydia both bombed out after their first heat. Sprinting was not their forte. Stella did a little better, but the quarter-finals marked the end of her day. Not so our favorite muscle babe. This was the occasion where Femke’s massive leg muscles made the difference, especially since the races were run in the skating style.
She had easily won all her heats and we currently watched her administer an almighty drubbing in the semi-final. She had already created a gap to the five other competitors, who spent most of the time being in each other’s way. We all gasped when one of her ski poles splintered in quite a spectacular fashion, but Dutch muscle memory set in. Femke threw away the second, still intact pole and assumed the ice skater’s position – one hand resting on the small of her back and the second arm swinging back and forth.
She lost some of her advantage, but finished the race in first position. There was some delay in announcing the result. Apparently one of her opponents had lodged a protest, claiming that by discarding her second ski pole Femke had somehow interfered with her final sprint, but eventually the organizers deemed it to be the bullshit claim it so truly was and Femke was declared the winner.
With new ski poles, which would hopefully survive the ordeal this time, Femke lined up for the final heat about half an hour later. Leaving nothing to chance she took off like a scalded cat, flexing those big muscles as she powered forward on raw strength. With the other athletes jockeying for position, she could quickly open a small gap. With long powerful strokes – in very rapid succession – she powered on. It was like watching a video on fast forward. For an athlete used to twenty-mile time trials on a bike, this just over a mile long route was the literal sprint this format was named after.
Throwing her arms up in triumph, Femke scored the first ever World Cup win for the Netherlands.
Lydia
“Well, I guess this ‘good luck boink’ really works,” Mario said and cackled as we ate a rather copious dinner in the hotel’s restaurant. “I noticed our team also didn’t lose a single game since we started a certain tradition. A couple of draws, but we never lost.”
“It’s great to be superstitious isn’t it?” Femke replied with a giggle. “Now eat your eggs lad.”
“Is the amount of eggs on offer a hint I’m not getting?” Mario asked back and we all giggled.
“Eggs give you some proper ink in the pen,” I replied with amusement and Mario’s eyes went wide when he realized what I was hinting at. For lack of a better idea he looked at Ilka, but his better half was clutching her mouth to prevent herself from laughing out loud.
“Someone’s going to claim a big prize tonight,” Mark explained with a grin and took a swig from his beer. “After all, Femke is the first to score a win since they went into skiing.”
“I’m hardly a ‘big prize’,” Mario said innocently and Ilka giggled again.
“Remember when I told you there are situations in which a girl might require two guys?” she asked.
Mario gasped and we all chuckled. It was a good thing that we were in a separate room, due to our status as customers who had paid the GDP of a small country for our vast suite. In the public area of the restaurant we would have attracted unwanted attention from other guests by now.
“I ... I’ve seen some videos,” Mario stammered with a massive blush. “But I didn’t think girls actually do that.”
Regina chuckled. “We’ve all done it at least once, but up to now we didn’t have a second man at hand, so one of us always had to help out with a strap-on.”
By now Mario’s face had assumed an almost unhealthy shade of crimson.
Regina
Boy was I happy that Meri had come with us. Seeing the spectacle of Mark and Mario double-teaming Femke was the most exciting thing I had ever seen, and I was happy my better half was at hand to do something about my drooling pussy. I wasn’t alone in that predicament. Meri and I were in a sixty-nine, so I could return the favor. Lydia and Nadja had done the same.
Unfortunately that had left Ilka in a bit of pickle. She was the only strictly straight woman, so she didn’t feel inclined to join us other women in attendance and her better half was buried balls-deep in Femke’s tight rear-end. Apparently someone had remembered to give her one of our vibrators – we never traveled without one – as I could hear the familiar whirring noise of the one we used to call ‘Travel-Mark’ in reference to it’s substantial size.
The original who had given rise to that name was currently beneath Femke, filling her pussy more than well while Mario, hunched over her, plugged her rear opening. Normally it was Nadja’s and Lydia’s thing to be blindfolded, but Femke had not seemed to mind when Mark had put one of those airline sleeping masks on her before he and Mario had gone to town.
It wasn’t like we could have asked her. She was completely away with the fairies, breathlessly chanting something in Dutch. That she was breathing heavier than after winning the final race of the day was testament to the fact that Mark and Mario were doing something right.
Of course, being notoriously slow to reach climax, Femke required quite a bit of work from her two partners. Mark was mostly used to it. He had years of experience in boinking Femke endlessly until she finally came like a freight train, but Mario was certainly working hard and he was sweating accordingly. Perhaps we should have turned down the heating a bit.
Meri, Lydia, Nadja, Ilka and I had all already climaxed noisily – minutes ago – when we heard the familiar grunts that preceded a Femke-orgasm. We were all preparing for the loud wail when relief would come over her, but instead she just started grinning like an imbecile and with a small sigh she started to shiver and passed out.
Mark waited for Mario to remove himself from Femke’s ass at the top of the pile, before he gently rolled her unconscious body off himself.
“Come, you’ve been to a dark place,” Ilka said with a giggle and took Mario’s hand, dragging the exhausted lad into the bathroom.
“You’ve broken Femke,” Nadja said with a giggle. “You have no idea just how motivated I am right now for my race on Wednesday.”
“Well, she’s definitely still alive,” Mark replied, pointing at Femke’s boobs which bounced to the rhythm of her heavy breathing.
Loud noises were coming from the shower in the bathroom, making it clear that Ilka was not only helping with the hygiene. Young Mario was in for another round.
“I’m starting to understand why Ilka wants him to let off steam,” Meri said, chuckling. “I’ve stopped counting, but he must have shot at least three wads into Femke’s butt, and he still kept going. And there’s apparently still enough left for Ilka.”
“He makes me feel really old,” Mark agreed with a chuckle.
“Dammit, and neither of us two can win any races,” I reminded Meri with a giggle.
Mark
It took a bit of waiting until Ilka and Mario finally vacated the shower. By that time Femke had already come to again, but calling her coherent would have been a bit of a stretch. She was properly dazed, so I had to help her to the shower. Unlike the previous occupants of the location, we actually just washed ourselves, although I did wash her boobs a good deal more thoroughly than was strictly necessary.
It didn’t take her long to fall asleep once we had returned from the shower. Even in her sleep she wore an almost freakish grin of immense satiety. I heard a rumbling noise from the bathroom. Apparently the rest of the crew had commandeered the massive whirlpool, the first we had encountered in a hotel suite since Atlanta in 1996. Of course I joined them.
“What happened to ‘I don’t drink’,” I asked Mario when I saw a bottle of beer standing on the rim, next to his shoulder.
“Lead-free,” he answered and turned the bottle, so I could see the label. It was non-alcoholic beer.
“I actually like the taste, but I dislike getting drunk,” he explained.
“You had an alcoholic in the family, didn’t you?” Meri asked him.
Mario nodded. “My mother literally drank herself to death. You all say I’m much more mature than my age suggests. That’s why. I had to take care of myself since I was eight.”
Regina, who was sitting next to him teared up a bit and hugged him close, with Mario’s face buried between her boobs.
“Af mupsh af I apprefiate the location...,” Mario mumbled into her cleavage after a while and gasped for air after Regina let go of him. We all chuckled.
“If it isn’t too personal,” Meri asked. “How did you and Mario get together? You’re not your garden-variety pair of lovers.”
“How can that be too personal,” Ilka said. “Lydia and Mark told us their big secret. But I’m afraid it’s not a very good story.”
“You don’t have to tell,” Lydia assured her.
“I think I should,” Ilka said and her change of tone told us this was going to be a hefty backstory.
“Mario and my son Christian were best friends, so he spent most of his time at our place. We all knew about his mother’s alcoholism. When Christian was eight, he was run over and killed by an old woman, who was half blind but still driving her car. She mixed up brake pedal and throttle and took him out on a zebra crossing.”
We all gasped.
“Christian’s father, my husband, had already been dead for five years by then. He was killed by a drunk driver.”
“S uma soit’i!” Nadja gasped and started to cry. I instinctively understood her distress. She was the resident car aficionado, only second to Jenny, and here was a woman who had lost her entire family to car accidents.”
I wanted to console her, but Lydia beat me to it, taking Nadja into her arms. Ilka looked somewhat shocked about the reaction, but Lydia nodded towards her, signaling that she should continue her story.
“Everyone treated me like Christian and my husband had never existed, nobody ever mentioned them, for fear of making me cry,” Ilka continued, her voice thick with emotion. “Except Mario. He helped with keeping their graves in order and he just hugged me with his tiny arms whenever I felt like crying. He practically lived with me. Without him, I don’t think I would ever have made it through that time.”
I could see that Meri and Regina were wiping away tears.
“I tried not to get bogged down by my grief, so I soon started to go out again,” Ilka continued. “Almost three years ago some asshole spiked my drink and tried to rape me out on the street. By some freak chance Mario had visited his drunk mother that day and was on his way back to my place. He pretended to be my son and chased off the old geezer who had already torn off most of my clothes by then.”
We all gasped again.
“Long story short, as a twelve year old, he had not only saved me from being raped, he also wrestled my stoned carcass up the stairs to the attic. Can you imagine my shock when I woke up the next day, not knowing what had happened and in the living room was a twelve year old in his underwear?”
“In his underwear?” Meri asked.
“It had rained that day,” Ilka explained. “I’m not exactly built like Femke, but even my short frame was a bit much to handle for a twelve year old, especially since I was pissed out of my skull from whatever that asshole had spiked my drink with. We face-planted the tarmac a couple times while he was trying to get me home. Mind you, I remembered nothing of it the next morning, but we both had the bruises to show for it.”
“Holy shit, and I thought I had a rough childhood,” Regina said.
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