My Son, The Photographer Ch. 02byqdata©
Several people have asked me if my stories have any basis in fact. The answer is no. This story, like all my others, is pure fiction.
Read on and enjoy.
The holiday had been booked for months, long before my son and I became lovers. Andy and I both love the seaside so we had rented a chalet for a week on the Cornwall coast hoping to get lots of sun, sea and fresh air. Thus it was on a bright Saturday morning in early September that we packed our bags, loaded them into the car and set off on the 250 mile journey to our destination. Andy had agreed to drive because I hated driving in heavy holiday traffic. Fortunately the roads were not too congested and, apart from a couple of blocks at the bottlenecks, we were making good time.
Our conversation in the car was happy and relaxed and the miles just seemed to fly beneath our wheels. We had decided to stop for coffee at about half way to give Andy a break so he pulled into a service station, stopped the car and came round to open my door. I just love it when he treats me to these old-fashioned courtesies, they make me feel like a lady being courted by her beau. As the old song has it, "Little things mean a lot."
After stretching our legs, paying a visit to the toilet and drinking a cup of the mud they call coffee in those places we hit the road again. The traffic was getting more congested after we had come off the motorway so we rode along without much conversation, listening to a couple of old tapes of The Beatles and Mamas & Papas. The final few miles were stop-start all the way and poor Andy was feeling pretty wound up by the time we got to the holiday camp. I left him in the car while I sorted out the reception details and a couple of minutes later he parked in front of our chalet. We quickly unloaded the car and packed everything away. I told him to take a shower while I made us both a cup of tea.
He came out of the shower wearing just a pair of shorts and sat down, accepting the cup with a grateful, "Thanks, Mum," and after taking a couple of sips sighed, "Ah, that's better." I stood behind him and rested my hands on his shoulders: the muscles felt hard and tense so I started kneading into them, working out the kinks and tension. Andy relaxed visibly and allowed his shoulders to slump. "I'll give you just 24 hours to stop," he joked. I continued to smooth all that driving out of his neck and shoulders and watched the the fine hairs on his chest rippling in the breeze from the open door and windows. As I worked on him we talked about what we wanted to do during the next week.
"Tonight, Mum," he told me, "I don't feel like going far. If you don't mind all those steps down the cliff, we could go for a nice stroll along the beach. Sit there and watch the tide go out - or come in, whichever."
"Mmm," I agreed, "sounds like a nice way to spend the evening. Maybe we could gather some driftwood and light a small fire, roast some potoatoes in the embers." I wrapped my arms around him, idly aware of the chiselled curves of his pectorals under my palms as I ran my thumbs over his nipples. His head and neck settled back between the soft flesh of my breasts as I cradled him there.
"How about we take a couple of bottles of wine," he suggested, "and get slightly sozzled watching the sun go down and the stars come out?"
"Don't forget all those steps to climb on the way back," I warned.
"That's OK, Mum," he turned his head to look up at me and planted a gentle kiss on the upper swell of my breast, "I'll help you up!"
I held his lips to my breast for a second or two, gave him a quick hug and said, "OK, let's go down to the camp shop and pick up enough supplies for overnight. We can go to the supermarket in town tomorrow for the rest. But let me get freshened up first: you might put the cool bag in the freezer so it's ready for the wine."
I stripped to my undies in the bathroom and sponged myself down to clean off the perspiration then went next door to the bedroom and selected a shortish bleached denim skirt and sleeveless blouse. Andy was ready waiting for me when I emerged from the bedroom: we locked the chalet and had a leisurely stroll between the rows of identical chalets down to the camp shopping area. We decided have a snack in the coffee shop to tide us over as we hadn't eaten since breakfast, but the place was crammed. Andy located a table where there were a couple of spare seats and asked those already seated if they minded if we sat there.
"Help yourself," the woman smiled at us. "A bit hectic in here, isn't it?"
Seating ourselves, we agreed with her. As we were eating I looked at the other occupants. She was about my age and her companion was much younger, again about Andy's age. We struck up a conversation, as one does in these places, and learned that this was their first of two weeks at the camp, they were indeed as I had suspected mother and son. Originally her husband had planned to be with them but, at the last minute, he'd been called away on a business trip and would join them in a few days.
They were pleasant enough people and we found ourselves getting on quite well with them. Andy and John were having an animated conversation about music while Wendy and I discussed the accommodation and the prices of things in the camp shop. By an amazing coincidence, I discovered, they were in the next chalet to ours. Wendy was telling me that they were going to the camp club that evening, apparently there was very good comedian on. "Why don't you and Andy join us, Sarah?" she suggested.
I touched Andy's arm to get his attention and told him of the invitation. He thought about it for a couple of seconds then sighed, "I don't think I could face a stuffy club tonight, Mum. Sounds like a great idea, but not tonight."
I was relieved to hear that: I was looking forward to a romantic evening alone with him. I liked Wendy and the boys seemed to get on well together so we all agreed to spend tomorrow evening at the club.
Andy and I went into the camp shop and picked up the groceries we needed then went round to the drinks section. The selection of wine available was poor but we finally settled on a couple of bottles of Californian white. Andy read the label and quipped, "Hey, Mum, they're describing you on the label." He pointed to the line which said, 'light and fruity with a natural sparkle.' "Except for the light part!" I couldn't help but chuckle as I clipped him gently round the head.
We paid for our purchases then walked slowly round the camp, in no hurry and taking the long way back to the chalet. When we got there we packed the wine and butter in the coolbag. I threw a beach sheet, a knife, a couple of forks, paper plates, plastic cups, salt, an old newspaper for the fire and a sweater for each of us into a rucksack and we set off on our adventure. It was a couple of hundred yards to the cliff top, we negotiated the steps down to the beach and struggled over the soft stuff to the hard-packed sand near the water's edge. It was easier walking there so we linked hands and strolled along with the sun on our backs casting long shadows before us, allowing the cool waters to lap over our sandals as the small waves ran up the shallow beach.
About a mile along the beach we noticed the cliff sticking out a little. My son pointed out that it would be a good place to 'set up camp' in the shelter and as we rounded the headland we saw that it was perfect, sheltering us from the breezes which would come off the land as it grew darker. Wedged up against the cliff, driven there by some long-forgotten storm, was the remnants of a large tree, grey and weathered - a perfect backrest. Andy placed the coolbag in the shade - not that there was much heat in the sun now - and announced that he'd collect a supply of driftwood for the fire. He set off wandering along the beach above the high-tide mark, gathering in wood as he went.
Meanwhile I spread the sheet over the soft sand and sat down, leaning back against the log. I closed my eyes and just relaxed, content with myself and the world. I opened my eyes when I heard the clatter of a pile of wood deposited nearby.
"If you get the fire going, Mum, I'll get more fuel - this lot is so dry it won't last long. I'll get some bigger bits this time - there's loads of it about." He turned and went the other way, around the headland while I busied myself with the fire which was blazing merrily by the time my handsome son arrived with the next load. He dropped them on top of the pile and sat down on the sheet, leaning back on the log as I had done. He spread his legs wide and patted the ground between them, inviting me so sit in front of him. I sat with my back to him: he put his arms around me, inside my blouse, snugly beneath my breasts as his hands gently caressed over my tummy. Again a feeling of perfect contentment suffused me.
"Tide's turned, Mum," he observed. We both looked out over the flat beach to the calm sea, the distant tiny waves breaking in a thin line. We watched as a spit of sand was slowly engulfed by the rising water. The sun, a huge golden orb, was approaching the line bordering the sea and the sky. You could almost hear the hiss as it sank slowly into the water, a streak of gold crossed the sea from the sun to us, rippling and coruscating as the light breeze ruffled the surface. It was so beautiful.
Andy disturbed my reverie when he squirmed to reach for his camera. "Sorry, Mum, I've got to get this sunset." He fussed over the settings for a minute then lifted the camera and took a couple of shots directly into the sun. I knew he would like to take more but he was conserving the card. He had saved up his money and bought a big memory card - I don't understand all those megawotsits - which gave him lots of shots and I had treated him to a second card but even with all that extra storage he had to make them last all week until he could get home and upload them onto his computer.
We watched the sun disappear over the horizon and the sky glowed with gorgeous reds and golds - a few high-flying wisps of cloud still shining. Again Andy took a couple more pictures then put his camera down and we settled back into our comfortable position, now with his hands casually fondling my breasts. We stayed like this as the sky slowly darkened, the first few stars came into sight and twinkled down on us. The fire had burned down to a bed of red hot coals so I reluctantly moved his hands and fished out the potatoes which I carefully poked into the embers. I put a few more pieces of wood on the fire and they soon crackled and blazed into life, spitting sparks into the night air. Meanwhile I noticed Andy retrieving one of the bottles of wine from the coolbag and pouring out a couple of cups.
We sat down facing each other on the sheet, cross-legged, our knees almost touching and raised our cups in a silent toast, just looking at each other. We sat like that seemingly for an age as I scanned his face in the glow of the fire. His fine brown hair was swept back from his high forehead. His thin, sharp nose was framed by well-defined cheek bones. His chin jutted out a little under his soft lips which were surprisingly full and sensuous. I loved looking at his body, too. He'd been quite athletic at school and although he wasn't muscle-bound he had the taut musculature of a distance runner.
We both smiled when he caught me staring at his chest. "I love you, Mum." He leant forward, with one hand resting upon and squeezing my thigh, the other stroked my cheek tenderly.
"I love you, too, my handsome, sexy son." I cupped his hand in mine and pressed it to my face, kissing his palm then tickling it with the tip of my tongue.
Reluctantly he withdrew his hand, picked up the camera and stood up. "The fire should give me some unusual lighting," he said and threw some more wood onto the flames. "I wish I had a tripod!" He looked around and, noticing a large flat rock to one side, he exclaimed, "This'll do."
He set the camera on the rock and moved behind it, peering at the display on the back. "Yes," he proclaimed and clicked the button. He made some changes to the settings, clicked the button and ran round to stand close to me. I noticed a red light blinking on the camera as he pulled my head to his crotch then a loud 'beep.'
"Delayed shot setting," Andy explained. He went back to the camera and clicked the button again, rushed behind me and put his hands on my breasts. "Look up at me ...". Beep. The next shot had him pulling my blouse off - my face was hidden but my bra exposed. Then it was with the blouse completely removed and his hands down the front of my bra. I loved all this attention and was happy to let him do what he wanted and take as many pictures as he liked. It turned me on and already his erection was growing.
As he was setting the camera up again he told me to unfasten my bra and take it off just the right shoulder and to hold the left cup in place. I complied and he came behind me again and squeezed my bare breast as the camera beeped again. "Keep like that, Mum," he instructed and for the next shot he gripped my nipple and pulled my breast up and out, stretching it to a long cone. This was just a little painful but it sent a shock wave right down to my clitoris. "Lose the bra, Mum, and do the same to your left breast, pull it way out to the side." He took position on my right nipple and we both tugged them wide, causing me to gasp. He bent over and kissed me then turned me so I was at an angle to the camera while he took a picture of himself sucking on my nipple.
"OK Mum," he said as he put more wood on the fire, "this one, I want your hand on my dick through my shorts." He set the camera up and moved next to me as I reached out to hold the lump. "Now with your hand up the leg of my shorts..." I was pleased to discover he wasn't wearing any pants under there and my hand closed round the warm tumescent flesh. Then he wanted my hands at the top of his shorts as if ready to take them off, then with his flies wide open but nothing showing.
"Pull my shorts halfway down my thighs for this one Mum, face close to my dick ... same position but kiss the tip ... shorts all the way down and look up at my dick ... now hold it and kiss it again ..." This was getting exciting as he had me open my mouth then take it deeper inside with successive shots until it was right down my throat. That was a trick Andy had taught me only recently and I was still having a little trouble with my gagging reflex but I loved doing it and was getting better each time I tried. After this last shot I wanted to keep him in my mouth: he allowed it for a minute then pulled away, emptied the last of the first bottle of wine into our cups which we both drank fairly quickly and then he had me drape myself over the log, one leg running along the log and my other foot on the ground. This was a little difficult with my skirt until I pulled it up my thighs a little.
Meanwhile Andy moved his camera to another rock giving a different angle on the shots and a little closer to the log. "Squeeze your tits, Mum, and open your mouth ..." He stood next to me, holding his tool as if he were about to stuff it down my throat: he did that for the next shot but still wouldn't let me continue sucking him. He took a picture of him pulling my skirt down and another of him removing my pants then we posed with him positioning his face between my thighs then he had me holding myself open while he stuck his tongue into me. After this shot he lapped at my pussy for a few minutes, nibbling at my clitoris which had me squirming on the brink of an orgasm but he pulled away just before I exploded, leaving me gasping for fulfilment.
He kissed me, allowing me to tatse myself on his mouth; a long sexy kiss with our tongues fencing as he was squeezing my breasts and nipples, keeping me just short of boiling over as I felt my juices trickling down my thigh. I slid off the log and knelt in front of him, taking him deep into my mouth and as he tried to pull away I wrapped my arms around him and pulled him close, I hung on to him until he started moving his hips, thrusting himself in and out of my throat. His hands came behind my head and I felt he was close and moaning, "Oh Mum that feels great, Mum. Oh Mum, yes ..." Using every trick I could with my lips, my tongue and my teeth I cupped his balls and gently massaged them until I felt the first pulse of his orgasm. I pulled back a little and milked every drop of his seed into my mouth then pulled him to his knees and kissed him, sharing the taste of his cum between us. That was something I had taught him - he was reluctant at first but now tasted of himself greedily.
But I still had my own needs. I laid myself back on the sheet and opened myself up to him as I pushed his head gently down between my thighs. he lapped at my lips as if trying to lick up all of the juices flowing out of me. His thumbs spread my lips and his tongue penetrated me as deeply as posible, working in and out for a few minutes while his thumbs tweaked my clitoris, all this making me moan and writhe under him. He shifted position slightly then took my tingling nub between his lips and sucked it into his mouth but it was his teeth nibbling into it that made my hips buck wildly as my orgasm coursed through my body, forcing screams from my throat as it was tearing me apart. I gripped his head and ground my pussy onto his mouth as my body exploded continuously, releasing him from my grip only as the last throes of pleasure died away.
He came up to kiss me and I hungrily licked the taste of myself from his face before clamping my mouth on his. We held each other like this for long minutes, stroking and caressing each other and whispering terms of love and endearment as we watched a three-quarter moon rise silently above the cliff, bathing everywhere with its cool, silvery light.
"Let's go for a swim, Mum. Come on." He stood and pulled me up. As we ran down towards the water, hand in hand, he called to me, "I love how your boobs bounce like that as you run, Mum. They look lovely. Dead sexy!"
I laughed and squeezed his hand in acknowledgement. We charged into the shallow water and gasped at the cold splashes hitting our warm skin but ploughed on until the water came to my breasts, each tiny wave lifting them up and down, the cold causing my nipples to harden and crinkle. Andy lifted his legs and slowly sank down until his head disappeared under the water then surfaced again shaking his head and making the water spray in all directions from his hair. He moved in and clamped his mouth over my nipple, the sudden change from the cold of the sea to the warmth of his mouth sending thrills of pleasure through me until he took hold of my waist and tilted me under the water. We came up again spluttering and laughing as he hugged me to his body, crushing my breasts between us. We swam around for a while, mainly just circling each other and caressing whichever bits came close.
Suddenly I had an idea: I ducked under the surface and caught him round the hips. My hands found his penis and scrotum tiny and crinkled. I pulled myself down and drew the wrinkles of his foreskin into my mouth and sucked strongly, coaxing the meat hiding within to emerge slowly as my mouth supplied the heat. I stayed down as long as I could hold my breath and he was just starting to expand when I had to leave off and surface. He held me close as I caught up with my breathing, telling me that felt sooooo good.
"Come on Mum, those potatoes should be ready by now." We waded back through the water and walked up the beach to the fire. I shook the sheet free of sand and towelled myself down while Andy fished the potatoes out of the fire with a couple of sticks. He helped me finish drying off but I think he had other things on his mind as he concentrated his efforts between my legs, working against his aims as I felt myself getting wetter down there. It was heavenly but I pulled myself together and dried him off. As I knelt in front of him drying his legs and feet, I noticed that his private parts had de-shrivelled themselves after emerging from the cold sea. I enfolded my mouth around his flaccid penis and coaxed it back to life, stopping as the blood started flowing and he began to stiffen. Giving it one final kiss I stood up and spread the sheet back on the ground.