I'm dedicating this story to the delightful Melissa, a lovely young lady from the islands who's been a faithful reader and kind commenter on my stories for some years (married three times already she's a sexy young thing who's left a slew of faithful admirers in her wake... ).
It's a love story. Enjoy!
1 - Miami Beach, Florida, 7:30 pm, Monday November 21st 2011
"SIT," dad ordered as both Paloma and I started to get up from the dinner table.
I looked resignedly over at my sister as we both slid back down into our seats. We both had recognized his tone.
"Your mother and I want to have a talk with you," dad added unnecessarily.
"I'm pretty busy dad ... studying ... I've really got to get going," I protested as I again pushed my chair back from the dining room table.
"Me too daddy, big exam coming up," my younger sister quickly added as she jumped to her feet.
"SIT!" he ordered, his dark eyes drilling into mine.
"Please Bobby, your dad and I have something important to tell you and your sister," mom said, interrupting me.
Both sis and I were wondering what we'd done wrong this time ... as if we didn't know.
"Your sister's going to be home on Wednesday night ... for Thanksgiving Weekend," dad finally started.
Looking across the table I could see that sis was as confused as I. What's Melissa got to do with this I wondered as I turned back to watch dad at the head of the table. For seconds he said nothing, a very rare occurrence for my father.
"And..." sis finally encouraged.
Dad still said nothing but then mom started up, asking, "You know we visited Melissa three weekends ago up at her college?"
Were we complete morons? Of course we knew! I looked guiltily across the table at my younger sister, knowing she was wondering the same thing as I – had they somehow got wind of the wild Halloween party we'd held when they were away?
Our parents lapsed back into silence when sis and I said nothing. As I looked expectantly back and forth between them I couldn't understand their reluctance to get at it. Maybe they were hoping we'd admit to our sins.
"There's a problem with Meli," mom finally whispered.
"Whaaaat? Is Melissa sick?" Paloma screeched, asking the question that had risen to my lips at almost the same instant.
"Not exactly," dad finally answered after staring at mom.
"Not cancer?" I asked a millisecond after that dreaded word had popped into my head.
"Of course not! Your sister's just bringing somebody home for Thanksgiving," mom blurted in response.
"WHAT?" both sis and I ejaculated.
"A friend," dad said.
"A girl friend," mom added.
"What's that got to do with her being sick?" I demanded, now having no idea what the hell we were talking about.
My father, who had no ability to beat around the bush, suddenly spat out loudly, "Your sister's become a lesbian."
"Whaaaat? A LESBIAN?" I asked as I broke out into a grin, then laughter.
"You don't suddenly become a lesbian Carlos," mom instructed dad before turning to me and saying in her most firm and adult voice, "It's not a laughing matter Roberto."
I looked over to sis who had her hand covering her mouth and was clearly struggling to keep her laughter from joining mine. Both of us knew with absolute certainty that our sister, Melissa Carmela Martinez, was not a lesbian. Neither of us would ever forget the afternoon we'd spied on her as she'd lain writhing and moaning under her then male sweetheart. As he'd pumped his cock into her pussy.
"It's perfectly normal," mom insisted to my still smiling face that displayed my disbelief so clearly. Then I watched as she flashed a warning glance at dad.
"Being a lesbian isn't normal mom," Paloma chimed in. Which was a big mistake! Because for the next twenty minutes mom expounded, in a way only our mother was capable of, on women, sexuality, homosexuality, liberalism, religion, feminism, gay marriage, and on and on until the three of us forced to listen to her speech were glassy eyed.
I finally stood up and fled without a word.
2 - Miami Beach, Florida, 9:30 pm, Monday November 21st 2011
Dad was sipping a beer while he watched a hockey game on our thirty-seven inch flat screen TV when I entered his den and private sanctum an hour later. "Hockey?" I asked disbelievingly, knowing that dad had absolutely no interest in the sport. He simply mumbled and then turned back to the screen. I knew he wasn't watching the puck.
"Another beer?" I offered as I moved to the fridge behind the bar. A quick, almost imperceptible nod was his only reply.
I opened two Coronas and carried them back to the couch where I flopped myself down on the opposite end from dad, then stretched out an arm and handed him his. He looked at the beer in my other hand but said nothing. Although he knew I'd had the odd beer in the past this was the first time I'd ever attempted to just have a casual beer with my old man.
Another small nod came from him as he brought his beer to his lips and then half drained the bottle in one long gulp.
"You never should have sent her there ... that school," I finally ventured after taking a drink from my bottle.
"I didn't send her to the bloody school," he spat out, sending beer flying as the spittle left his mouth.
"They're all lesbians at those schools, everyone knows that," I added, ignoring his outburst.
"Thank you Roberto for that wonderful advice. Mind you it's about three and a half years too late." Dad's deep, booming Latino voice echoed his displeasure around the room.
"Why'd she have to go north anyway ... among all those lesbian Anglo Saxons. I mean what was so wrong with going to Miami and living at home? I am. A Latina girl up there-"
"Roberto," dad started and I could almost see the smoke coming from his ears, "your sister, who happens to be half anglo-saxon, and your mother, who is one hundred percent bloody anglo-saxon, chose the school. Against my advice as it happens-"
"Still," I interrupted.
"Roberto," he warned, every syllable of my name a warning to drop it.
"So what are we going to do about it?" I finally tried after we'd silently watched a couple of minutes of hockey.
"Your mother believes," and dad's tone conveyed quite clearly he didn't agree, "that we should just let it run its course, that-"
"Yeah but what are we going to do?" I interrupted.
"This weekend you better be on your best behavior," dad warned but with no real conviction in his voice.
"Have you talked about it with Dr. Singh?" I asked. Dad nodded quickly. "What did he say? Can we cure her?"
"He said it's complicated ... That we have to find out what kind of lesbian she is."
"Huh? Kind? How many kinds are there? What do the various kinds do differently?"
"How should I know? He said just to watch them this weekend ... see whats going on ... don't do anything differently," dad stammered. "Then we'll talk after Melissa has gone back to school, make a game plan."
"Maybe I should talk to him," I offered.
"ROBERTO," dad warned again.
"But you're not going to let them sleep together when they're here are you? Do whatever lesbians do at night, when they're naked?"
"They will not be sleeping together in this house," dad promised in a voice that brooked no argument.
"Have you ever heard anything crazier?" I heard whispered into my ear forty-five minutes later. I jumped about three feet.
"Christ Paloma ... you've got to stop that!" My younger sister, who'd just turned eighteen, a high school senior at Joseph Marti High, just grinned at me as she leaned over my shoulder and looked down at my computer screen.
"Stop what?" she asked with a grin.
"Stop sneaking up on people like that."
"You're checking up too aren't you? On lesbians," she said as she ignored my comment.
"Dad says we're to act normally, not say anything," I reported from my earlier conversation from dad.
"Yes, but what are you going to do?"
We talked excitedly for the next hour ... my sister Paloma was the crazy member of the family.
3 - Miami Beach, Florida, 10:30 pm, Wednesday November 23rd 2011
Mom, not trusting either dad or I not to blurt out something inappropriate in the main concourse of Miami International Airport, had insisted that she and Paloma would pick up the "girls" as she referred to them. "You'll meet them here in our home, politely," she'd instructed dad but also included me when she shifted her eyes to mine.
I don't know what dad or I were expecting but Emmanuelle de Bonheur certainly wasn't it! She could best be described as a long haired, blond, runway super model with breasts. Tall, in fact easily as tall as my five foot nine inch older sister, and perfectly proportioned, she walked into the Martinez living room to find two dark haired Latino men standing with mouths agape. She was an instant hard-on generator.
"Bonjour, I'm Emmanuelle ... call me Manny, you must be Meli's father," she said softly in a lilting French accented voice as she took my father's hand in hers. The high heels she wore just accented the curves of her calves and the length of her legs. Legs which were left amply displayed for us by the tight, hip hugging mini skirt that barely covered her delightfully rounded French derriere. Her pointed breasts, braless, moved freely under an ivory colored silk top. In her heels she was as tall as dad!
As dad stammered out a reply I felt my cock start to fill with blood. "And you must be Rrrrroberrrrto," she purred with a husky sexiness as she turned to me and gave me a hug while she planted a soft European kiss on each of my cheeks. Even though the hug just lasted seconds there was no way she missed feeling my cock as it butted up against her stomach. Great start I thought as we broke apart. My sister's lover had a twinkle in her eye as she moved back away from me.
We all sat down finally. We had drinks, dad even serving underage Paloma, something he'd ever done before, and we all acted as though everything was just perfect. A loved daughter and sister bringing a friend and lover home to meet the family.
Later, Emmanuelle was assigned Melissa's old bedroom, which in her absence had been converted into an upstairs den/playroom, while Melissa was gently ordered to bunk in with her sister. I'm pretty sure that my father patrolled the hallway outside my sister's room all night long.
4 - Miami Beach, Florida, 11:00 am, Friday November 25th 2011
"Are you coming to the beach with us today Roberto?" Emmanuelle asked when she came into the kitchen and found me sitting at the kitchen table a day and a half later.
She was barefoot and was drying her hair with a fluffy white towel. All she had on was a pink tank top and a pair of white boy shorts that would have made a Hooter's girl blush if she'd been told to wear them.
"Beach?" I asked as I took in the body my sister was apparently making love to on a regular basis. A very hot body.
"Meli said she'd take me. Where's Paloma, she can come too."
"She and mom went out," I answered as my brain tried to quickly figure out if this was a good idea or not. I could watch them I thought ... talk to them ... get the scoop with innocent sounding questions ... maybe find out what kind of lesbians they were. I hadn't had a chance the day before. The beach would be the perfect place I decided. The hot sun just might loosen her lesbian tongue.
"Yeah sure," I finally answered, "South Beach?"
"South Beach what?" I heard from the doorway and turning saw Melissa in the doorway. She was also drying her hair and didn't have much more on than Emmanuelle. I watched as my sister held out her hand and then intertwined it with her friends. Emmanuelle gave Meli a quick kiss on her lips before putting her arm around her back. I just knew they'd been making out together in the shower. This is so fucked up I thought as I watched them. They both definitely needed some quality time with Mister Penis!
"I asked Roberto if he wanted to come to the beach with us."
"But ... I don't think ... you did?" Meli stammered.
What's her problem I wondered. Heck, we've been going to the beach together all our lives. She probably wants to make out with her or something I thought as I answered, "I told her I'd love to go ... that is if you don't mind."
"It'll be okay Melissa," the blond French girl assured Mel.
"Are you sure?" my sister asked.
"It might be fun," Emmanuelle answered, giggled, gave me an appraising glance, then winked at me and then hugged my sister.
What's this all about I wondered as I watched my sister's mouth gape open.
I found out about thirty minutes later, after I'd grabbed a quick shower and had gotten my beach stuff together. When, after driving to Collins Avenue, instead of turning right and south towards SoBe, Melissa turned the car north.
"That's the wrong way," I shouted from the back seat. "Heck, you go away to school and you forget where the beach is?" I asked sarcastically. Of course there was no way my sister could have taken the wrong turn.
"Manny wants to try the other beach," my sister said softly as she kept her eyes on the road in front of her.
Manny? Mel and Manny? Sounds like members of a boy band and not two lesbians I thought. "What other beach? We're not going to Hollywood or Hallendale Beach are we? Fort Lauderdale sucks."
"No ... not there," my sister answered.
"It's called Allover I think," Emmanuelle said in her sexiest French accent as she turned in her seat and looked back at me. "I found it on the Internet."
"WHAAAAT!" I exclaimed when I'd figured out she'd meant to say Haulover.
My sister finally turned and gave me a quick glance before she turned back to the road. Her face was beet red. Which was almost an impossibility for a girl with her dark Mediterranean skin. "In France its normal to go naked on the beach," Melissa tried to explain.
"You've never been there Roberto?" my sister's lover asked.
Of course I'd been there! With my buddies. But to look at the naked female tourists, not to take my clothes off and hang out.
"You sunbathe nude?" I asked as I tried to consider the implications of going to the world famous Miami nude beach with them.
"Always," Emmanuelle answered as her eyes looked deep into mine, "I love to feel the sun and the water on my naked skin."
Fuck! "But ... but I'm a man," I finally stammered out.
"I've seen naked men before," she answered and in a tone that clearly conveyed to me that she hadn't seen these naked men only on a nude beach. "I'm French," she added when she saw the confusion on my face. As if that explained everything.
As we continued the short trip north it actually wasn't Emmanuelle I was worried about, instead my thoughts turned to Melissa. I was going to see my big sister nude? She was going to see me? How gross was that? And what would dad think? As if I didn't know ... that'll be a fun conversation I thought as we turned into the Haulover parking lot.
Within seconds of our arrival at the beach and our choosing a spot to lay out our towels and things, Emmanuelle had casually and quickly pulled off her top and shucked her shorts. Then she stood proudly naked in front of us, posing for us.
"C'mon you two," she finally laughed as her hands circled my sister from behind, hugged her and then started to lift Melissa's top up.
"Maybe we shouldn't ... I mean with Roberto here and everything," my sister protested even as she lifted her arms and allowed her girlfriend to bare her. Melissa's full round breasts were left resting in a lacy white demi bra. "Manny ... please," she protested as her lover undid her bra and let it fall to the sand. For seconds Emmanuelle cupped Melissa's breasts, hiding them from my staring eyes.
"Your sister's so beautiful Roberto," she said as she watched me. "Beautiful, beautiful breasts," she added as she let her hands fall and exposed the dark areolas and thick, erect nipples of my older sister. They were! Tits to die for. Emmanuelle may have had an extraordinary pair of tits but I wouldn't have traded five sets of them for the breasts my sister was displaying.
I watched spellbound as this beautiful blond Frenchwoman slowly pulled my sisters shorts and panties down and exposed her sex.
"You're shaved," I blurted as my eyes took in the bare lips and slit that sat at the juncture of Melissa's legs. My sister, now blushing furiously, tried to turn away from my probing eyes.
"I shaved her," Emmanuelle said proudly as she held her lover against her. I watched as her hands slid from my sisters hips down between her legs and slowly pulled her apart, exposing Meli's pink insides. My cock was suddenly huge.
"Don't," sis ordered as she escaped from her lover and sat down on one of the towels.
"And of course Melissa shaved me," Emmanuelle said as she stood watching me, her legs spread in an invitation to me to look. I did. And as I let my eyes slowly move over this incredibly sexy Frenchwoman I realized I was going to have no problem in learning everything I wanted to know about these two. But did I really want to know?
"Your turn," Emmanuelle finally said, her challenge clear. I saw Melissa quickly look up.
"Maybe later ... I don't want to get burned or anything ... I think I'll go for a swim," I delayed, not wanting them to see my hard-on.
"It's normal Roberto, normal for a young boy to get an erection his first time on a nude beach, especially an American," Emmanuelle said in a condescending tone. Her eyes were smiling though, challenging me!
Young boy? First time? American? Fuck you, I thought as I watched her laughing eyes. "It is?" I asked as I pushed my shorts down my legs. I heard two gasps.
Emmanuelle recovered first and said with a giggle, "They usually aren't that big though." Then she licked her lips provocatively.
And so I spent the afternoon on a nude beach with my sister and her girlfriend. And I slowly learned their story. My cock was hard about fifty percent of the time! Emmanuelle didn't seem to mind.
I learned how the two prettiest girls on campus had ended up rooming together in their second year at college. Dating an endless stream of boys from Dartmouth and Harvard and Yale. "We know all about men Roberto," my sister's lover said casually.
"Don't," Melissa cautioned, knowing that Latino men didn't have the same casual attitude towards female members of their family sleeping around as Frenchmen apparently did.
"About penises," she added as she ignored her friend.
"Maybe its better if I don't know everything," I tried to discourage.
"Beer and football, frat parties, that's all these American boys know," Emmanuelle said dismissively. "And then, when they're drunk enough, they think every girl they run into wants to suck their little penises."
"MANNY," sis protested.
"And as to any foreplay, most of these boys can't count to three let alone find a clitoris with their tongue--"
Jesus, I groaned inwardly as I listened to the French girl.
"But Melissa knows what to do with her mouth."
My eyes flashed to my again blushing sister. I think I was blushing as bright as she was. Does this French babe always talk like this I wondered silently.
"It just happened," she said as she looked down.
"It was the massage therapy course we took," Emmanuelle announced.
"You took a course in massage therapy? At school?" I turned to my sister. "What kind of College are you going to?"
"It wasn't a College course, it was an extramural thing," my sister protested as she sat up. Her breasts, jiggling with the movement, again drew my eyes.
"There weren't any boys in the class of course so we had to partner up with each other," Emmanuelle explained. "Your sister made my nipples ache the first time she touched them. Then my pussy," she said simply with a shrug of her shoulders. There wasn't a hint of shyness in the French girl's voice. Her puffy, pink nipples were just sitting there waiting to be sucked. Nipples that were a delightful contrast with my sister's thicker and darker ones.
"What school of massage therapy includes touching your partners pussy," exploded from my mouth. Bloody, northern, lesbian colleges I cursed silently.
"It wasn't the first lesson," sis interjected.
"We were practicing at home," Manny added with a leering laugh as she let her fingers move onto my sister's hip. "Then of course we got to the oral sex," she added.
"I'm sure Roberto doesn't want to hear about that," my sister insisted.
"That's for sure. American boys never seem to be interested in oral sex," Manny said dismissively.
Listen, I was a nineteen year old freshman at the University of Miami and someone who believed he was pretty sophisticated in the ways of women. But I hadn't met a French lesbian before! This was a girl who could, and who did, talk about every aspect of sex in the most open and blunt way imaginable.
I think both Melissa and I were shell shocked when we finally left the beach four hours later.
"She's lucky," Emmanuelle announced at one point in the proceedings. Just after she'd spent twenty minutes telling me about the pleasures of a female sixty-nine.
"Who's lucky?" I asked.
I was afraid to ask why. "You're definitely not going to meet her," I promised.
"Can she get all of it into her mouth? All of your beautiful cock?" she asked.
"EEE ... MAN ... UUUU ... ELLLLLE!" my sister screeched in protest before I could say a word.
"Well it is beautiful ... isn't it Meli?"
"He's my brother."
"I'm leaving," I announced.
"In fact," added Emmanuelle as she ignored us, "if I wasn't sleeping with your sister I just might..."
She didn't finish her sentence, instead she just grinned at my sister and winked at me. I had another hard on!
5 - Miami Beach, Florida, Monday November 28th 2011
"You went where?"
"The beach ... Haulover," I answered. I knew this was going to be a tricky conversation with dad. The girls had flown back to school late the night before. After our afternoon on the nude beach together on the Friday before I really hadn't gotten another chance to talk to them away from my parents or sister. This was my first chance to brief dad.
"The nude beach?" I nodded yes.
"You took your sister to a nude beach?" I nodded again.
"Did you take your clothes off in front of your sister?" Dad's voice was getting more incredulous and louder with each question.
"They took me! Christ pa, it was you who told me to get the lowdown on them."
"I didn't tell you to show your sister your bloody penis!" Dad wasn't happy.
"She's not a virgin dad ... at least I found out that much," I said, trying to change the subject.
"Emmanuelle," I answered.
"The lesbian? She's slept with a man? How do you know?" He couldn't hide his curiosity.
"I asked her."
"You were supposed to watch them Roberto ... surreptitiously. You weren't supposed to--"
"She said I had a nice penis," I interrupted. Dad looked like he was about to have a heart attack.
"Your sister's lesbian French lover told you that your penis is nice?" dad finally spat out. "Are all French people perverts?" he wondered aloud.
"I think so, and I think she's done quite a bit of penile research," then added, "Melissa's not one either dad."
"NOT ONE WHAT?"
"A virgin," I said quietly, knowing Dad wasn't going to be happy.
"Somebody had sex with my Melissa? She told you? Who?" my father demanded. I think he was more pissed off at the idea that some man had deflowered his daughter than he was at her 'lesbianism'.
I did not tell my father everything I'd learned from the girls. Fuck, I wasn't stupid. Instead I gave him a hazy recap of the story Emmanuelle and Melissa had given me of how they'd drifted into a relationship. I tried to leave out all of the more lurid sexual details that Emmanuelle had been only to happy to share with me. For example I didn't bother dad with Manny's fifteen minute recital on the joy of shaving your partner's pussy.
"I'm going to talk to Dr. Singh Dad, I'm sure he'll help, he's bound to have some ideas," I ended.
"I'll come too," dad offered. But I was finally able to talk him out of it; instead I convinced him that it'd be better if I was able to give our neighbor the complete run down without him being there.
6 - Miami Beach, Florida, 5:00 p.m. Wednesday, December 1st 2010
"Robert!" I looked over my shoulder and saw Dr. Singh standing on his patio with a drink in hand. I'd spent the previous twenty minutes cleaning his pool, one of six pools that I cleaned and maintained as a part time after school job.
Dr. Singh, a native of Mumbai and a man who had come to America and Harvard for post graduate studies, was now a world renowned expert on lesbian psychology and had been lured to the University of Miami after he'd published a national bestseller on the subject six years earlier. He'd been our neighbor since he'd moved south.
"A drink?" he offered.
"You saw them?" I asked when we were seated and I had a beer in hand.
"How could I have missed them?" the good doctor asked.
"Can we cure her?"
"Ninety-three point six percent of lesbians can be cured," Dr. Singh announced confidently.
"They can?" What about the other six point four percent I wondered.
"Tell me what you learned," the learned doctor encouraged.
So I told him. In almost as graphic detail as I'd been told by Emmanuelle. He grilled me on their experiences with boys. Tut-tutted when I told him what Manny had said about American College boys cunnilingus abilities. Was interested to learn that they'd both slept with men.
"Frenchwomen are all bisexual my friend Robert," the doctor told me when I'd finished. "It's in their genetic makeup."
"It's not in Melissa's genetic makeup," I protested.
"Listen Robert you sister's case is a classic one. She's got her fiery Latin blood but it's tempered by her Anglo-Saxon side. She grew up in the tropics and then spends the years she's ripening into full womanhood in the snowy, cold north."
"I know what I'm talking about. The same thing happened to me. From Mumbai I was whisked off to Boston and Harvard when I was her age. They're passionless up there. So there's your poor, hot-blooded sister, yearning for a man who'll rouse her to the heights of erotic pleasure--"
I wasn't sure that the Doc's description of Melissa was one hundred percent accurate but I shut up anyway.
"—and thinking that the years of her college freedom would finally unleash a tsunami of orgasmic feelings that were just waiting to be unleashed by large, throbbing, thrusting penises--"
"Christ, you're as bad as Emmanuelle doc," I complained.
Doc Singh stopped talking for a second, then gave me a look and said, "You want to know the bottom line on this Robert?" Of course I did. "What Melissa needs is a man."
"I sorta had figured that out Doc."
"Is your sister bringing the French lesbian home for Christmas?" he asked.
"Good. So that'll give you three weeks to find her a man. To 'get her laid' as you Americans love to describe it. Properly laid. By someone who knows what he's doing. Who's got a nice, big cock."
The doc wasn't pulling any punches. "I don't think it'll be that easy sir."
"Would you prefer to celebrate Easter at a lesbian wedding on South Beach?" I shook my head, it was impossible to imagine such an event. Dad would shoot Emmanuelle before such a travesty befell the family. "Well then?"
"It's not much time to find a man for her. She'll be back home in just a couple of weeks."
"It's her final year up there isn't it?" I nodded. "That'll be the most dangerous time for all of you then. Two girls, in love, a huge decision facing them. Should they stay together? Get married? Go and live in Paris? You better do something at Christmas my boy," the doctor warned.
What could I say to that?
"You know Robert, in India it's up to the male members of the girl's family to act when a problem like this arises."
"Up to them to do what?"
"Cure her. Robert, if you can't find any other man to do the job then you or your dad will have to do step up to the plate and perform your duty. It's your responsibility."
"Sleep with my sister? Or have her sleep with dad? Are you nuts?" I asked incredulously.
"Why not? You love her don't you?"
"Well sure but--"
"Well then, you're halfway there."
"She's my sister."
"Were you sexually aroused when you saw her naked on the beach?" the doctor demanded.
"She's good looking," I answered warily.
"Did you get an erection?"
"There were other girls there, Emmanuelle ... tourists..."
"Have you dreamed about her since that day?" Doctor Singh pressed. He saw the answer in my eyes and pressed on. "She's a wonderful, beautiful girl. It's perfectly natural for a brother to have sexual thoughts about his sister. All boys do. Her future happiness is in your hands my boy."
"It's against the law," I protested.
"In India a man would act to save his sister no matter what the law said. His honor and his family's honor are at stake. Maybe Latino men aren't as concerned about such things," he answered.
He knew better than that! And so did I! "That's easy for you to say, you don't have to sleep with your sister."
"And how do you know I didn't have to?" the doctor snapped back. And in such a way and with such a tone in his voice that he momentarily stopped me.
"You didn't did you?" I finally asked.
"My father died when I was thirteen Robert. My mother and my three sisters were alone ... unprotected. Sometimes you have do things you didn't expect you were going to have to do Robert, sometimes you have to grow up faster than you thought you would," the doctor said, then stood up and walked towards his house. Just before entering through the patio doors he turned and said, "Come back tomorrow and we'll discuss your game plan." Then he disappeared inside. Our consultation was evidently over.
Doctor Singh had slept with his mother?
I dreamt of my sister that night. Naked. Knew I'd never find a boy for her in time. Knew that dad would never be able to do what was required. Could I, I asked myself even as my hand stroked my raging penis. Make her come? Put my seed inside her? Cure her of French bisexual lesbianism...
I'd have to I decided as the sperm spurted from the end of my cock. The only choice was me or a life of childless sorrow for Melissa.
I also realized as I watched my penis, still jerking out its thick cream, that I wanted to do it. That I'd wanted to it almost since I'd been capable of it, but that the desire had lain dormant below the surface for years. Melissa had always turned me on...
The next afternoon I told Paloma what the doctor had said. She surprised me when she reacted by saying, "Of course it has to be you. I've known that since I saw the two of them rubbing up against each other."
"You saw them rubbing--"
"Oh I saw a lot more than that," young, innocent Paloma answered.
"But it's wrong."
"Melissa is going to come back home to Miami," my sister answered, her words delivered with a fierce intensity in them that I'd never heard from her before. "She's going to come home, she's eventually going to get married ... and have children..."
"Still," I delayed.
"And it's up to you to make sure it happens." It was an order.
Paloma was onside. "You'll have to help," I told my little sister.
"Of course I will," she agreed.
7 - Miami Beach, Florida, Thursday December 16th 2010
Melissa flew home on the night of the fifteenth of December. I didn't get a chance to talk to her alone that first night. Father, on my suggestion, and with Paloma's agreement, had decided to bunk her in with her sister for the holidays. I'd wanted her close to Paloma – I needed a spy. Our ruse was facilitated by dad having hired a contractor to redo Meli's old room and so my older sister had been faced with an empty, half painted room when she'd arrived.
"We wanted it perfect for when you arrive home in the spring," dad had explained.
"What if I don't come home in the Spring?" Melissa asked back.
"Then you'll have cost your poor father, a man who's slaved every day of his life since the raft carrying him from godless communism landed on American shores to provide for the children he loves so much, not only thousands and thousands of dollars but also his future happiness--" Paloma started.
She'd laid it on pretty thick but we'd wanted to get Melissa on the defensive right from the start. We only had three weeks.
That night, as Paloma and Melissa lay in their beds, my younger sister questioned her sister closely on her lesbian lifestyle.
And at eight a.m. the next morning I was shaken awake by my little sister. But it took me a second to realize who had roused me. The first thing I became aware of, a normal morning wake-up occurrence for me, was the tingling warmth radiating up through my body from my cock. As I stretched my body languorously I reached down to corral my hardness. My palm closed around my penis. I started to—
"Whaaaat are you doing?"
My eyes flew open. Paloma, in a pair of shorts and tank top, and sitting on the edge of my bed, was staring with mouth agape at my penis.
"What are you doing here?"
"Well I certainly didn't come to watch you doing that."
"You're supposed to knock," I grumbled as I covered my penis with my hand.
"It's very big," Paloma answered. Her eyes were still locked on my groin.
"What are you doing here anyway?"
"They've talked about getting married," my little sister started. Oh Fuck!
My sister spent the next twenty minutes briefing me on what Melissa had told her the night before. "She still wants to have children," Paloma finally said.
"Uh huh. And she wants to live in Miami. It's not even that she hates men. Or their penises," she added as I caught her checking me out again. And it hadn't been the first time in the last few minutes that Paloma had let her eyes drift downward. "She's confused. She loves Emmanuelle but..."
I circled my penis with my palm and lifted up off my thigh and into air. "We'll just have to get her to love this," I said.
"Yes we will," Paloma agreed. Then she licked her lips.
"Beach?" I asked Melissa casually across the kitchen table two hours later. It was ten in the morning. Everyone else was out doing errands. It was time to start to put my plan into place. She nodded her agreement. She'd been home for fourteen hours.
"Can we take your bike?" she asked hopefully. My sister loved my motorcycle.
"Sure," I agreed.
"Can I drive?"
"I'll let you on the way home. If you've been good," I teased. Meli stuck out her tongue.
Ten minutes later she was on the back of my bike with her arms wrapped around my stomach. The breasts my eyes had feasted on at Thanksgiving were pushing against my back.
"This okay?" I asked over my shoulder as I turned my bike north.
"Haulover? Just us?" she asked while placing her lips against my ear, trying to be heard over the roar of the motorcycle.
"Yes," I yelled into the wind.
"We shouldn't, let's go to South Beach," she yelled back as she tightened her arms around my stomach. Her erect nipples were unmistakable as they poked through the t-shirt I was wearing. I revved the bike and kept driving north.
"What if someone recognizes us?" sis asked when we finally pulled into the parking lot.
"No one will be looking at your face," I promised my sister as I dismounted.
It was different that second time. We'd both known it as we stood self consciously over our towels. Without asking each other where we wanted to set up our things we'd both wandered to the most deserted section of the beach, a spot with no one within twenty-five yards of us.
We shyly removed our clothes, even turning our backs on each other as we stripped.
"This is weird," Meli said when she'd finally organized herself and was sitting naked on her towel. "A brother and a sister. We shouldn't have come. We're not French."
"I liked it last time. And besides, no one knows you're my sister," I said as I pushed my shorts down my legs. "People will think we're lovers."
"That's so gross. And you liked what?" Melissa's eyes were locked on my groin as she spoke.
"People watching me. Seeing you. You looking at my cock." I said nonchalantly as I stood in front of her.
"I didn't look at your cock," she protested.
"Liar." Then I noticed the short black curls that had sprouted over her mound since I'd seen her at Thanksgiving, "You're letting it grow back?"
"Your hair," I said as my eyes roamed over her mound. A mound now sporting a frizzy coat of short, dark pubic hair.
"I just haven't shaved for a while," she said nonchalantly as she ran her fingers through her curls.
"I prefer it like that."
"You do? You shouldn't be looking anyway," she said as she sat and then lay back. Her languid posture and her spread knees belied her words. Her pose invited my eyes towards the pink slit of her pussy. Girls just love being looked at.
"Turn over then, I'll do your back," I said as I picked up the tube of lotion. My penis felt heavy hanging between my legs.
"You liked Manny didn't you? When we were here the last time," she added needlessly as my lotion filled hands moved over her upper back.
"She was okay ... for a blond anyway." My hands moved caressingly over the firm roundness of her bum. "But I prefer Latinas."
"Hah! I was afraid you were going to try to steal her from me."
"Were you?" I asked as I gave her a quick slap on her rear.
"Stop that," she said with a giggle. Her body was hot under my hands. I could feel the tremors of her excitement. I lightly ran my fingers up and down her anal crack.
"It's your turn, do me now," I said after giving her ass another little slap. I lay down on my back. My sister slowly squeezed the tube of sun block and then both of us watched as a fat drop of cream fell onto my stomach and then pooled over my belly button. Melissa's hands started to spread the lotion over my chest.