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A year after we graduated, my and my four ex-classmates decided to go on a vacation. I was in charge of booking the rooms and flights, so it ended up being my problem when at the last minute one guy refused to go. When I was looking for a way to not let the money go to waste, by sheer silly accident my 41 year old mother said that maybe she might go. She promised to stay out of our fun, to not interfere in anything or spy on me ever.
I asked the guys, and they said it was fine. What else could they say? But my mom was a good, clever woman, so I knew she really wouldn’t bother anyone except maybe me, and probably not even that.
On the morning of our departure she was to drive me to the airport, where we’d meet with our friends. Her dyed blond hair was in a ponytail, making her look a bit younger and way more adventurous than she actually was. I didn’t say anything, but when we arrived at the airport, her cheerful disposition made it obvious: while keeping her distance, calling herself an old person and all, she was going to try to fit in, if only a little bit.
So, she was trying to be the “cool” kind of mom. I knew that she wasn’t. But, when we met with my friends, she shook their hands, smiling and making her grey eyes round.
“Haven’t seen you in years, Mrs. Redd,” said Arthur, the weaseliest guy I ever knew.
“Just Helen.”
“Helen,” he said, touching her elbow.
David also said hi. Jimmy came from another school and never met my mother before, so I introduced them. Then, perhaps guessing that I was hoping she’d stop getting familiar, mom said she’ll go forward while we take our time.
On the flight her seat was apart from ours. I’ve only seen her that one time when she couldn’t help but come check on me, as if I was still twelve.
When we were there, we checked in, and for half an hour everyone stayed in their rooms. Very soon mom came to mine and “helped” me unpack my things. She was the one who packed them for me back at home. She arranged things for me, and due to her silly fretting it took us half an hour longer than everyone to get to the beach.
Finally, though, I was ready. Arthur and David were waiting, and Jimmy already went ahead of us. We went without waiting for my mom, who wasn’t supposed to be near us when we started having fun anyway.
After a while mom found a place on the beach not far from me, moved there, took out a book from her handbag and started reading. As promised, she did not interfere with our fun and was almost like a stranger, but she always kept somewhere near – went for a swim about the same time I did, handed me a bottle of sun lotion once, and went back to the hotel barely quarter an hour after we did.
“Mommy’s watching,” said Jimmy, who from the very beginning didn’t really like the idea of a mother following us all that much.
I told him to piss off. When we got together at a bar later on, mom didn’t follow, thankfully, and we were about to have some fun.
I was getting ready to hold mom to her word. She didn’t, but after a little bit David, “the considerate one” and the quiet guys since we were kids, said it wasn’t ok if we left “Helen” out.
“Oh no, my mother’s not participating,” I said .
“I agree with D.,” said Arthur. “Let’s call her? Shut up, Stephen.”
“Let’s,” said Jimmy.
He was being ironic, but David and Arthur really meant it. So the latter sly asshole left – and came back with my mom in tow ten minutes later.
She was wearing denim shorts, a bikini top and a pretty pareo. Mom looked somewhat mature – she wasn’t tall and must have been about 120 lbs or so, her shorts cut into her soft body, bra was squeezing her breasts instead of sitting properly. The pareo was mostly sheer. Meanwhile, the evening went well, if tame. Towards the midnight we went to our rooms. Mom came over and fretted about this and that until I finally coaxed her to leave. I browsed some sites, answered a few emails and got ready to sleep. David wrote “Stephen’s mom is such a nice lady” on his blog. Arthur thumbed it up, Jimmy hasn’t.
***
The next day mom was on the beach an hour before we arrived. She was not going to bother us, just as promised.
“There’s my mom,” I said, steering the company away from her, but Arthur looked at me, then at my mom, and said,
“Quit walking around, just sit here, for fuck’s sake,” and dropped his bag on the sand.
“Hey, Mrs. Redd,” said David.
“Don’t bother her,” I said.
Mom turned towards us, put her sunglasses on, smiled and sat up with a greeting. She said she was going to go for a swim and walked into the water. I noticed Arthur following my mother’s ass with his stare. I didn’t say anything – there was nothing to say. He was just a horny asshole who couldn’t control himself even if he wanted.
Ten minutes later, when I almost forgot about her and was starting to have some fun, she came back from swimming. Arthur stood up, picked mom’s towel, walked towards her and wrapped it over her shoulders. David and Jimmy were watching. As if that wasn’t enough, Arthur put his hands on mom’s back and started rubbing her güvenilir bahis dry. She sort of protested, but he cooed something and managed to dry her back, neck and hands before she thanked him and took the towel. He stood there grinning, watching mom crouched and asked if she needed something else.
So now he was courting my mother? Jimmy was watching with his eyebrows raised, giving me the “if I were you, I would have stopped this” look.
That evening we didn’t go anywhere – just minded our own businesses. I went to the pool, which nobody else cared about, then came back to my hotel room. It was so cosy just sitting there, listening to the sea, watching it getting dark through the room’s magnificent windows. I ordered some tea and some snacks and spent the salty evening catching up online.
But something kept bothering me. Some weird omens, so to say, kept stacking around me, as if something ugly was going to happen. The last straw was a simple, easily explainable happening that otherwise wouldn’t have caught my eye: from the five of us, I, David and Jimmy were online, but my mother and Arthur were not, and have not been for more than an hour. The thing that put a thrill through my spine was that some time ago I actually noticed them going offline almost simultaneously. That was stupid.
I remembered my mother in her bikini, the look on Arthur’s face when she walked by. Suddenly, my imagination got filled with all sorts of images. I tried to calm myself, fixed me some drinks, but after ten minutes I was so agitated that my hands started trembling.
I wasn’t thinking straight when I got out of the window and onto the wide, dark terrace. It was past midnight. The lights near the windows were mostly off. Inside, some people were sleeping and some were having fun with their friends. Feeling really stupid, I crept past my friends’ windows and looking into Arthur’s. It was dark and completely empty. For a second I felt elated, but then I crawled further and finally looked into mom’s window.
Arthur was on top of my mother. He was holding her hands. They were kissing. Mom’s pale legs were wrapped around his muscular ass. Through the window I could hear her whimper. His huge, already suntanned frame was covering my mother’s whole body – I could only see her face, her hands and her legs. I could hear their flesh. They were fucking. Then Arthur pushed himself up and told my mom to stand on her knees.
“No,” said my mom.
He said, “Helen.”
I stared as my mother turned over and stood on all fours. Her face was now a pale spot in the dark of the room. Arthur put his hands on mom’s hips and pushed himself in – mom’s mouth opened, she started audibly breathing, and the bed started rumbling again. She grabbed onto the sheets, on all fours like an animal, her mammaries swinging. Arthur slapped her. In an aroused and coquettish tone my mother said “Ouch.” He held onto her and continued fucking – I could see mom grimace when he got too rough, then close her eyes when he hit the spot.
Arthur, the bastard, was very experienced. It was clearly visible how he found weak spots on his woman’s body. After ten minutes or so my mom had an orgasm. Nothing was over, though – she just rolled on her back, and the sexing continued. A handsome young man with a pretty, thick cock was fucking her deeply and thoroughly, he was opening her up, spreading her legs and pussy as far as he wanted. After all the groping I witnessed, I’m sure Arthur knew mom’s body by heart. He got tired for a second, and mom straddled him. Angry and jealous, I looked at her back as she rode him, her soft round ass getting squeezed by his hands. It didn’t last long – after about five minutes he pinned mom back down and gave her another rough fucking. She moaned uncontrollably, her legs dangled up, her ponytail was completely undone and her hair lay spread on the pillow. Then Arthur groaned, forced his cock all the way up my mom and finished with a shudder. She didn’t push him away – rather, reached with her hand and massaged his balls and his ass throughout the ejaculation.
He pulled out and rolled on his back. For a minute my mother was still, her eyes closed – I thought she has fallen asleep.
“I need some fresh air,” she then said, and stood up.
I backed from the window. Mom walked out and stood on the terrace. She was completely nude, her pale form like looking marble in the dark. She was barely five feet away from me, and I was too scared to run. She had the odour of warmed seawater.
Arthur came out and stood beside her. His hand slid down her back and over her ass.
“You were great,” he said. Mom didn’t respond. “Wanna go to the beach?”
“Just some air. It was getting hot in there.”
“You’ll heat any room up,” said the bastard. I really hated him.
“Are you horny again?” said my mother.
She took his cock in her hand without looking and started jerking him off. He pulled mom towards him, fingers sinking into her ass, her sweaty breasts squeezing against his firm chest.
“Too much for a proper lady?”
“It isn’t.”
“Yeah?” said Arthur.
“Take me türkçe bahis back there and see.”
He pushed mom towards the room. She walked, smiling at him over her shoulder. Arthur followed, giving mom a slap on her ass.
That was enough. I turned away and ran to my room. There I stumbled into the shower and masturbated three or four times in a row. It was a release, but it didn’t feel good. Helplessness was mind-numbing. What could I even do? He already fucked my mother, this will no change, ever. What do I do and say tomorrow? Should I fight him? Maybe I should say nothing. What if it happens again? Maybe I shouldn’t spy. Well, yeah, it was none of my business. If I got myself a slut and fucked her all night long, would Arthur have cared? Does he even properly realize it’s my mother? Yeah, this isn’t the end of the world. I got into bed tried forcing myself to fall asleep.
***
In the morning my train of thought was unbroken, as if I did not sleep. I had nightmares and was laughably horny. I washed my face, brushed my teeth – all the while thinking whether Arthur was still in mom’s room. How did they go to sleep? How did they wake up? Did he fuck her first thing in the morning? Did she suck him off? Did their neighbours hear them do it?
When I met with the guys, they were talking. Arthur had a sly grin. Appallingly, when I walked towards them, they immediately stopped. What? Was he bragging? Was he actually telling others about fucking “Helen” all night long? I couldn’t believe it, and I didn’t. What sort of friends would take this lightly? Frustration and jealousy were building up in me, but I couldn’t think of a single word to say. My ex-school friend has violated the deep-seated carnal privacy of my mother, but mom was above my authority.
When we met her, mom was wearing a yellow bikini. She kept to herself. There was no way of telling she fucked Arthur yesterday. Throughout the day, someone would occasionally glance at my mother’s ass, but nothing else happened beside Arthur courting her slightly.
At sunset I went “for a walk” around the terrace to see if something unwholesome was brewing. Nothing was. I felt better. Mom’s room was empty, so was Arthur’s. “Wait, are they at the beach?” I thought to myself – and went there right away. They weren’t. I walked back, once more at relative ease, and stumbled on Jimmy. He was chatting with some tech guy about something.
“Seen Arthur?” I said.
“He and David picked up your mom and went out with her. She felt down, so they had to be the gentlemen,” he said and looked at me. “What?”
“Nothing. That’s cute,” I said, and walked off.
Then immediately I walked back and asked where they took her, but he didn’t know.
I went to my room and locked myself there. It was a bit overboard. But maybe this one wasn’t like yesterday. This could not have turned into a sex tour with my mother in the middle. Even despite what happened yesterday, this was unlikely. They’ll be back by eight or nine and go to their rooms. If Arthur tries to force himself on my mother, I’ll tail and protect her.
They weren’t back by nine. At eleven, their rooms were still empty. I crept through the terrace every hour, offended and desperate. To relax, I went to the shower and masturbated – this horrible ordeal was making me jealous and horny. Finally, at about two in the morning, when the hotel was for the most part asleep, I heard people walk past my door, and jumped out of my bed.
I crept through the terrace once more and watched David’s room. Yes, it was him. And Arthur was back in his own room – I saw him walk towards his bed, pick up his phone that was resting on it, and throw it back down in annoyance. I went to my mother’s window and saw her coming right in. She was wearing a short skirt and a classy white shirt. Stepping out of high heels, mom artlessly stripped – I could see pale tanlines on her slightly pink skin, – threw her clothes in a heap and stumbled into the shower.
I waited for half a minute. Nobody else was coming. Mom started to sing to herself. So I unlocked the door through the window and crept inside.
The room smelt of mild alcohol – she’s been drinking. I looked around and noticed the bunch of her clothes and underwear. Following an impulse, I fished out her panties. They were dirty, plain and simple. Then her cellphone played a jingle, making me startle. It was a “Good-night, Helen” message from David. Fuck you, “friend”. Surprisingly, Jimmy was now the only one of my friends who has’t betrayed me. But, closing the message, I saw that the photo app was still running. I opened the photos and saw thumbnails that hinted at something revolting. I selected the bunch and mailed them to myself.
Then I crept out of the room. Only when I was “home” I noticed that I was still holding mom’s stained underwear. But she was probably drunk. She may think she lost them somewhere in the room. And I didn’t even care.
In my room, I picked up my tablet and downloaded the photos. A whole bunch of dimly lit thumbnails swamped my photo roll. I opened the first one and saw mom with David, at the table, with Arthur güvenilir bahis siteleri apparently shooting. Next one had David with his hand on mom’s shoulder. They were at some sort of bar. Next, mom was drinking, smiling sheepishly. But I saw that she was having fun. Her face was pink, eyes moist, smile across her face as if she’s constantly laughing. Every further picture mom was getting more drunk. Then I saw her dancing with David, and then a few dozens of the same. It was like a slideshow: his hands on her waist, her chin on his shoulder, her face tucked into his neck. They did a spin, and David’s hand slipped a bit down towards her ass. I could see how her breasts were squeezed against him, how her thighs and ass moved under the skirt with her every step. Mom saw Arthur taking photos and drunkenly waved to stop, but he apparently didn’t. They continued to dance – I could see her from every angle. When they were back at the table, there were more drinks waiting for them. Mom sipped something clear. She was getting drunk.
Next photo was outside, her standing under the street lamp. Next – she was standing with her hands cross in front of her, pulling her shirt over her bra-covered breasts. Even through intoxication, though, she thought that was enough, because the next blurry photos were of her fixing her clothes, laughing and pushing the camera away with both hands. The very next photo was of them walking, and Arthur’s tan tattooed hand pulling my mother’s shirt down so the cut would reveal her pink cleavage. A middle-aged passer-by was casually glancing at my mother’s right breast. More blurry photos of her struggling, and then she was standing with David under another street lamp, him facing the camera, her in front, facing him, – like a pair of lovers. My mother – looking smaller, shorter, thinner and younger than ever in those clothes and that sort of twilight, – she stood so close to his body, as if ready to embrace. She was like his girlfriend. Next photo – he’s pulled up her skirt, showing her fat round ass, barely covered with panties, mom’s hands blurry as she was laughing and fighting him.
Full of anxiety, I spread those panties on the bed in front of me. It was red with a black line, smelling of sweat and perfume. Mom, you’re not a teenager. Can’t you control yourself? But at least I hoped they didn’t actually do her. Maybe they just fooled around.
I picked up the tablet. Next photo had mom standing exactly the same – under the street lamp, in front of David, her back to the camera, skirt rolled up, but panties pulled down to the knees. There were marks on her ass from tight underwear cutting into it and some minor sunburn. Next – the photographer was standing behind her, touching her buttocks with his dick. Then: my mother still in David’s embrace, now hanging on his neck, bent forward, the photo from above showing Arthur’s cock sliding far into her. There were several photos like that; then they turned her around her – now David was taking my mom from behind. Arthur has unbuttoned her shirt, so mom’s breasts were now hanging out. Someone’s hand was pinching and twisting a nipple. Next photo was of mom on her knees, somewhere dark, sucking off the photographer, Arthur’s hand in her hair, pearly stain in the corner of her mouth.
Then I thought to myself: suppose I was a 40-year old guy, and two of my daughter’s best friends, both very attractive young women, got me drunk and took me on a sexual adventure. Would I play hard-to-get? Of course mom got fucked, they both fucked her raw, she was washing their semen out of her pussy right now in the shower, dousing with hot water the parts of her body that still held the memory of their groping fingers. At one point today, they spread her legs and plumbed the cunt of my closest relative, my nurse and my mother, brought her to an orgasm, make her drunk pussy ache. My only defence against any of this was now history. What else could I do? How could I possibly lord over the guy who is more experienced than me, and who fucks my mother? For a second, I wanted to go to his room, cry and beg him to not fuck my dear mom anymore, because it hurt, aroused and abused me. I wanted to tell him how jealous it made me that, while I was a virgin, my classmates’ conquests included even my own mother.
***
Next day on the beach mom was wearing her one-piece again. To my surprise, she soon shooed Arthur away. She didn’t go swimming. Later, at noon, when we went back to our rooms, I wandered around for a bit and ended up walking into my mother’s room. She was taking a shower.
“Who is it?” she said, stopping the water.
“It’s me, mom.”
“Wait a few minutes, ok?” she said and turned the water back on.
I looked around. Her swimsuit was on the chair. I could see a bit of of it’s inside, slightly padded at the crotch, thinner at the part that went between her legs and over her ass. Her travelling bag was on the bed – and I noticed an opened pack of hygienic tampons. One was missing – it’s package lay on the table – and it all clicked together. So that’s what happened! Starting today, my mom was on period. And – my god, it was over. Fucking my mother was over. The vacation was ruined, but the feeling of dread I was having throughout the day was now almost gone. Thank you, dear God. I was scared and offended, I was jealous and powerless, but now it was over.
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