In The Bays of Sardinia 03 +PICS

Text with kind approval © gurgy

Thank you kenji for your assistance

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***

The next morning, Lissy was woken up by her mother laughing loudly, "Oh Lissy, are you still afraid of wolves?"

Lissy blinked and saw her mother, who leaned into the inner tent and looked happily at her. Only now did she notice that her head was not on the pillow, but on Terry's chest.

Mama kept joking, "Don't worry, little one, here in Sardinia, there are no wolves."

Lissy straightened up, rubbed the sleep from her eyes and mumbled, "Why should I be afraid of wolves?"

"You used to be afraid of wolves when you were camping; back then, you always slept on top of Terry."

"Oh," her daughter tried to be amused, "no, eh... I slept deeply."

"Your brother, too," chuckled Mary, "apparently it didn't bother him to have your head on his stomach all night."

Lissy glanced briefly at Terry, who was just waking up, she said embarrassed, "I think I'll take a shower first."

She climbed out of the inner tent, picked up her laundry, and she was gone.

Mary greeted her son in a good mood, "Hello sleepyhead, did you sleep well?"

Terry stretched his limbs, "Yes, not even the noise of the cicadas bothered me..."

"... and obviously not your sister's head either," giggled Mary, "it was lying on your stomach all night."

All of a sudden, what happened last night was in Terry's head. He quickly slipped into his shorts under the covers and hurriedly climbed out of the inner tent, he grumbled, "I think I'll shower first." He grabbed his towel, which was hanging over the tensioned linen rope, and disappeared.

Mary looked helplessly after her son, stepped out of the tent with the frying pan and was amazed, "What do they both have? I don't remember them ever having had a shower in the morning during our vacation; they always got straight to the sea."

"Oh, leave them," waved Paul, who was already sitting at the camping table and waiting for the bacon, "our children have grown up and value personal hygiene, just like us."

"Oh yes," giggled Mary shyly, "we went into the shower first thing this morning. Still, that's something different; after last night, we had to shower, we needed it."

Mary spread the bacon on the plates and took a seat next to her husband. After a quarter of an hour the children were back from their showers and sat down with their parents at the breakfast table. Paul looked at his daughter, shook his head blankly and sighed, "I don't know how they come up with it... with your honey-colored face... but some here at the campsite think you're a little pale."

Lissy startled, "Who said that?"

"They must have seen you on the big beach yesterday," said Terry, "when you got out of the sea soaking wet and dropped like a board upside down in the white sand."

"Barely! I'll be right back in the water and washed the sand off my face."

"Then maybe it's the ones," Terry guessed, "who sneak around the disco in the evening and don't dare go onto the dance floor. You can see them at a distance behind the sand dunes, where they are roaming around."

"Why don't they dance?" wondered Lissy.

"They would like to, but they don't dare."

"Why do these goths have to be with us at the campsite?" asked Lissy, "can't they stay at home and correct school essays? There is also space here in January!"

"In January, those pale faces would be even paler around the nose than you with the sand on your face yesterday!" laughed Paul with his mouth full, "even in Sardinia!"

"But surely some peasant women would have time here", giggled Mary, "to nurse them with goat's milk until they have rosy cheeks again."

"Wouldn't be of any use," said Terry laconically, "or have you already met an academic council with rosy cheeks?"

"Doesn't matter, Lissy", Mary said soothingly to her daughter, "take a look at the people on the way down, you can tell just by the color of their skin how long they have been there. The tanner the skin, the shorter the rest of the vacation. Let's be happy, we still have them ahead of us!"

"That's nothing at all," Paul announced, chewing, "this morning, a penetrating guy told me that he urgently needed a 'turning point' in order to be able to read our story. He was so pushy, he almost squeezed himself into the shower stall with me."

Lissy frowned, furrowed her nose and asked, "What is that, a 'turning point'?"

"I don't know either," replied Paul and shrugged his shoulders, "I think something like... I don't know."

"Maybe he's skiing," suggested Terry, "you have to get around a 'turning point' like this, otherwise you will end up in the snow-covered fir trees, trigger an avalanche and..."

"This freak never skis," Paul waved off, "or have you ever seen an East Frisian on skis? No, no, the way it looks, I think, he was thinking more of something like a sex toy. I just can't explain why this freak thinks of sex toys when it comes to our family..."

Mary worried, "You mean a pervert?"

"Quite possible, at least I could hardly get rid of him in the shower."

"Oh, leave him," sighed Mary conciliatory, "after all, the campsite is big enough, there is room for everyone here..."

"It's okay," growled Paul, "but tomorrow I would like to take a shower alone."

"So!" said Terry impatiently, "if we don't finally have breakfast, we'll never get to the beach!"

***

On that day, the family had in mind not to swim in front of the campsite, but to look for a bay next to the main beach. When they reached the sea, they climbed over rocks for a quarter of an hour and waded through shallow sections until they found a deserted beach in a small bay.

"Isn't it wonderful here?" cried Mary enthusiastically and laid her bath towel on the sand.

Paul pointed to the rock face in the back of the bay and called, "We could have saved ourselves wading around in the water, a path leads down here."

Terry narrowed his eyes and looked out to sea, he noticed, "There's even enough wind here, I think I'll rent a surfboard tomorrow."

The four of them swam out to sea and played a game of frisbee in waist-deep water.

After a while the women wanted to lie in the sun and left the water, Terry continued to play alone with his father. Lissy and her mother lay down on their bath towels and let the sun dry them off, but soon Mary was complaining, "Too bad, the wind is not strong here, but it still blows up the sand, which sticks to my skin like powdered sugar."

Lissy looked down at herself and found, "You're right, mom, it has also dry seaweed with it, I already look like a crumble cake."

Mary stood up, looked around, and pointed to a group of small rocks, "Come on, let's lie down there between the stone blocks."

"Good idea!" said Lissy, "but first I have to get rid of the sand."

Both jumped into the water and washed the sand off their skin. They returned to the beach dripping and grabbed their things. Mary was about to spread her bath towel between the stone blocks when Lissy sighed next to her, "A pity, you don't have enough space for two towels."

Mary pointed to the other side of the cairn, "You see, next to me it has exactly the same compartment again, you can lie there."

Lissy put her bath towel on the other side, sat down with a sigh and looked at her mother, "As if nature had just conjured up these rocks because of the wind."

"Well, possible," came back from behind the stone wall. Lissy noticed that mom was already lying down. The two of them pushed their tops aside and let the sun dry them off. As Lissy sat up and began to smear her front with oil, Mary blinked over at her and asked, "I think I left my oil in the tent, can I use yours?"

"Sure, mom, here!" her daughter called, and placed the bottle on the small partition.

Mary rubbed her front, then put the bottle back on the stone. The two saw Dad and Terry get out of the water. They knew the ritual that was about to follow, and sighed, they sank down on their towels.

As always, it was Terry who sneaked up on Mama while Papa leaned over Lissy. On command, they shook their wet hair and, like little boys, were delighted with the squealing and lamenting of the women.

Lissy straightened up, grabbed the bottle on the ledge and held it out to her father, she asked him in a little girl's voice, "Please dad, can you oil my back? I've already done the front."

Without waiting for an answer, she rolled over on her stomach. Paul took the bottle, dripped oil in the palm of his hand and wanted to know, "What's this? It doesn't look like normal sun oil."

"It's not, either," replied Lissy, "that's almond oil."

"Yes, but", worried Paul, "that doesn't protect against UV radiation at all."

"But it makes the skin very soft," explained Lissy, "that's how you get a tan very quickly."

"Have you never heard of skin cancer?" Paul asked reproachfully.

"Oh," said Lissy, "I won't stay in the sun long."

Paul spread the oil on her back and began to rub it in.

Lissy put her head on her folded hands and called over the stone wall to her mother, "Your back hasn't been rubbed in either, Mom. Terry can do that!"

Terry got the bottle from Dad and began to oil Mama's back.

Soon the two women were cooing like doves under the pats of the men. Terry rubbed the sides of Mama's torso. When he touched the base of her chest, he withdrew his fingers ashamed and continued on her back, but Mary pleaded with him, "Not just at the top, also on the sides."

Timidly, Terry let his hands slide deeper until he could feel the soft skin of mom's breasts again with his fingertips.

"You're doing well," sighed Mary and sank into the bath towel.

As Paul stroked down his daughter's back, he brushed the hem of her bikini bottoms. Lissy winced and said reproachfully, "No, dad, that makes bad spots, you can hardly get them out... wait..."

She took her hands back and pushed the panties over her thighs. Paul went on silently rubbing Lissy's backside, but didn't venture over her waistline.

"You have to go deeper, dad," instructed his daughter, "with the hipsters you will otherwise leave a strip of skin of a different color."

Paul felt his way down and oiled Lissy's buttocks. Every time he stroked his hands outward, her buttocks opened just enough that her bare labia came into view.

Mary on the other side of the stone wall hadn't even waited for her son to stain her bikini, but instead pushed it into her buttock as a precaution. Terry paused, bewildered, he had never seen Mama's bare bottom so close to his eyes. He tried not to show anything, and gradually ventured deeper from her cross.

When he was halfway through her buttocks, he didn't dare go any further and kept his stroking movements in the same place. His gaze wandered through Mommy's buttocks, and further into the dark valley, where her pubic hair curled up. At the sight he felt his swimming trunks begin to tighten.

Lissy asked her dad, "Can you rub my legs, too?"

"Okay," he replied good-naturedly, "but first you have to pull up your bikini."

"It doesn't work, it would soak up the oil like a sponge, but it should be absorbed into the skin first. You'd better take it off for me."

Paul leaned over his daughter uncertainly and whispered, "That doesn't work, otherwise you'll be lying there completely naked."

"Oh dad," chuckled Lissy, "you have seen me naked before, at home in the garden."

Paul took a breath to contradict his daughter, but she was already leaning on forearms and toes. He was silent and pushed Lissy's panties down to her ankles. When she lay down again and bent her lower legs, he plucked it from her feet, and it crossed his mind that he had often seen his daughter naked in the past, only then was she a little girl...

While he took fresh oil and worked his way up Lissy's thighs, his gaze fell between her buttocks; he could clearly see the fine line of her pubic cleft. Paul changed positions and put one foot on the sand to hide his increasing erection with his thigh pushed out. He wanted to avoid embarrassment, in case his daughter should look back.

Mama also asked Terry to rub her legs, she reached back and pulled up her bikini. He saw that his mother looked to the side and twitched her buttocks, she complained, "Oh, something is pinching, I think the hem has slipped. Can you please fix it?"

"Where, mom?" Terry wanted to know. Mary didn't answer, but opened her legs to give him access to the spot that was pinching her. Terry hardly dared to reach between her thighs, but he gave himself a jerk, slipped a finger under the hem of the bikini and pulled it back into the crease.

Mom sighed, "Thank you, my boy, much better. Can you get the other side? That's where it's stuck."

This time, Terry grabbed more courageously than before, put two fingers under the fabric and took all the time to fit the hem into her buttocks. When he felt Mama's frizzy hair on one of his fingers, he was shocked with relish. Immediately, he let go of the stretched hem, which snapped back onto the skin.

"Ouch!" shouted Mama, cautiously.

"Sorry," Terry mumbled, "is it better now?"

"Much better," replies Mary, exhaling and sinking into her bath towel. Terry rubbed her legs, and now and then, dared to look between her thighs, which were still sticking wide apart. Only now did he notice Mama's bulging labia. In her tight panties the deep valley that stretched over her pubic mound was clearly visible.

Terry was struggling to concentrate on his task. When he got to her thighs, he didn't dare to go on the inside, but Mama explained to him, "You have to go everywhere, otherwise dry spots will remain."

Terry slipped his oily hand between Mom's legs. The closer his fingertips got to the bikini panties, the more his movements became a tender caress. Would mom notice that all his attention was on her cloth-covered pussy? What if she suddenly looked back and saw the bulge in his pants?

But none of this. His mother seemed to melt on the bath towel because she breathed, "You have delicate hands... don't stop."

Terry couldn't understand himself anymore, when he ran a finger along the hem of the bikini panties. The warmth between mom's thighs made him almost insane. When he switched sides and followed the other hem, he inadvertently brushed her labia. He froze and waited for Mama's rebuke; instead, he heard her sigh through the wind that brushed the boulders.

Paul didn't know what to do, he had oiled Lissy's legs from top to bottom and was now waiting for her to say thank you and slip back into her panties, but she stayed with her legs uncrossed. He had a full view of her crotch and furtively admired the fine skin of her pussy, the delicate curling band of her small labia.

He cleared his throat and ran his thumb through Lissy's buttocks one last time when she whispered back to him, "It's important here, too, dad."

Paul was seized with dizziness, but when his eyes wandered back to his daughter's crotch, he took fresh oil in a daze and began to rub her small cheeks. Lissy thanked him with a long drawn out, "Yeahhhhh..."

Paul looked over the stones that separated them from the other two. He was reassured that he could only see Terry's back.

Unobserved as he was, he stroked Lissy's buttocks until his finger nudged her anus. Lissy breathed a barely audible, "Do not stop..."

That encouraged him to slide his finger deeper and stroke one of her soft labia. When he pulled it up on the other side with gentle pressure, he heard, "Daddyyy..."

Terry heard his heart race. Why hadn't his mother stopped him long ago? Even when he had run down her other labia, she hadn't reacted, just pushed her legs further apart. One heat wave after the other rushed through him, slowly it all became too much for him.