Every summer, I transit through South France to visit parents, drop the kids, lounge by their pool. This year, Ghislaine’s there—Mom’s first cousin, mid-50s firecracker. 5’5″, short auburn hair, tanned legs, D-cup tits spilling out. She’s flirty at family gigs, loves young company, dirty jokes.
Poolside hellos. Dad and her husband Robert hike, delayed by landslide. Tenants due at seaside studio 50km away—parents’ rental spot. Mom frets about check-in, groceries. Ghislaine jumps in: “I’ll go with him, won’t forget a thing.” Mom hands me her phone for tenant calls. I shower quick.
The Stopover
Fifteen minutes later, we’re rolling. Ghislaine in short orange sundress, sky-high heels, black lace bra peeking. Legs glow bronze. Fuck, she’s stacked. Short drive, chit-chat turns naughty. I’m a physio. “Lucky wife, home massages,” she purrs. I play dumb. “Tired spots?” Neck, back. She laughs, “Makes me horny already.” Dick twitches in shorts.
Phone rings—tenants stuck in traffic, hour-plus delay. Perfect. Hit supermarket, stock fridge. Studio’s beachy anonymity hits: compact, balcony overlooking dunes, sea glint. Flick electric switch, water on. Ghislaine lounges on big deck chair, dress riding up. I approach from behind, killer tit view. Heart pounds. Hour to kill, alone with this tease. Risky family taboo, but vibes scream fuck.
“What now?” I sigh. She grins: “Show me your massage skills.” Game on. Hands on neck, shoulders. She moans deep. “Didn’t know I gave patients this much pleasure.” “Liar, bet they beg.” Ballsy: “I can do better.” “Like what?” “Carte blanche on your body?” “Do your worst.”
Hands slide to arms, then tits. Squeeze over dress. She arches, pulls me for sloppy tongue kiss. Cock rages. Kneel beside, hand up thigh. She spreads wide. Fingers shove panties aside, dip into soaked pussy. She gasps, kisses harder. Saliva everywhere.
The Transit
“Inside,” she whispers. Yank her against me, grope ass. “Wanted this forever.” She shoves me on couch. Drops panties elegant from heels, hikes dress. Bushy mound. Pull her close, face in cunt. She props foot, I devour. Tongue laps clit, probes ass. She groans, fists my hair. “Don’t stop!”
Pause: “Earn it.” She kneels, yanks shorts. Sucks cock tight, deepthroats magic. Nearly blow. Switch—her on edge, legs up. Eat pussy sloppy, rim ass. She’s lost, moaning trance.
Time to fuck. Grip ankles, hoist ass. Slam cock balls-deep. Brutal thrusts, bottoming out. “Love it, slut aunt?” “Yes, talk dirty!” “Gonna ass-fuck you.” “No… maybe…” Lube from pussy, press gland in. She yields: “Fuck my ass!” Full plunge, pound hard. Ass gapes on pullouts. Accelerate, unload deep in shitter. She clenches: “Stay in.”
Recover. She sucks soft cock greedy. “Round two later?” Fuck yes. Tenants buzz door soon—scramble clothes, wipe sweat. Hand over keys, fake smiles. Drive back poolside, cum still leaking. Stopover etched: anonymous studio fuck, family secret. Jet tomorrow, memory fuels miles.