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We were in Catalonia – or maybe it was Tuscany. A very fit young trapeze artist joined us and, long story short, they went off together.”I’d opened a bottle of Merlot, and now filled glasses for Jazz, my wife, and me. We considered the girls to be a bit too young, although when there was just us, the girls were allowed a little wine with their dinners.“Anyway, it’s lovely to see you both,” I said, smiling. I wasn’t being false: Jazz and I had history – albeit about fifteen years previously when we’d both been in our early teens, and she looked as beautiful to me now as she had then. In fact both she and Claire sported even tans, no doubt from their years moving around Europe in hot places; and both were very slender and fit-looking.Claire, I realised, was staring at me when she thought I wasn’t looking. Probably, I thought, just from the novelty of never having met her uncle before.“So, how old are you, Claire?” I asked.She blushed prettily. “Fourteen.”Jazz was looking at her. More and more, Denise wanted to fuck and would have done had it not been for our clothes. She pushed me away slightly to undo my shirt before slipping back into long passionate kisses as I pulled down the zipper on her dress. It slipped off her shoulder and onto the floor, effortlessly. Denise looked absolutely gorgeous in white bra and matching knickers and suspenders topped with little red bows. I gently spun her around, planting her hands on the dressing table, dropped to my knees and buried my face into her smooth bottom, nibbling her butt through the see-through panties. Denise pushing back into my face and quietly moaning as my fingers explored the damp patch in her knickers, breathing in the odder of her wet spot between her legs. My fingers found and started to explore her wet pussy, she stiffened and dropped her head slightly. Denise got up, drew breath and turned to look at me, a tear running down her cheek. I wiped it away with a kiss and a smile. Denise dropped to her.
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