My Vacation with Mom Ch. 01byVan999©
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I had been waiting nearly six hours before they announced the arrival of my mother's plane. It was late, it was hot, and I was tired, and the last place on earth I wanted to be at the present time was the San Fernando airport. My flight from New York had come in earlier, and rather than take the long cab ride to the resort, then have to come back to meet her, I figured I'd just stay at the airport. Of course, her flight was delayed. And delayed. And delayed. At last, I saw her as she entered the terminal.
It had been over a year and a half since I'd seen mom. With me in New York and the rest of my family in Seattle, it just didn't work out. I took her carry-on and embraced her, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek.
"You look great!" I said. And I meant it. After my brother had gone on and on about her being in total misery since the old man left a year ago, I was expecting somehow she'd look haggard and worn out. But she was her perky, cheerful old self, the mom I'd always known.
As we waited at the baggage claim, she quickly caught me up on what had been going on since we'd last seen each other. As we talked, I looked at her and realized her taste in clothing hadn't changed much. She'd always dressed conservatively, but always with style. Tonight she had on a beige jacket with a matching beige skirt, and a white blouse with little ruffles around the color.
She wore light blue earrings in the shape of a heart. Around her waist was a thin leather belt with what looked like a handcrafted bronze buckle, and she had on a necklace with a bronze pendant that matched the buckle on her belt.
Her blonde hair was pulled back, giving her a formal, professional look. I noticed there wasn't a trace of gray in her hair.
After retrieving her luggage, we found a cab and started on the long ride to the resort. As the cab made its way over the twisting, bumpy roads, I thought back on the events that had led me here. The call from my brother had come just a week ago.
"Yo! Big brother Tom, how's it going? Ken here." His voice sounded upbeat and cheerful. I knew from experience that meant there was trouble coming. Call it brotherly intuition.
"Look," he continued, " you won't believe this, but I won a four-day, all-expense-paid vacation to a four star resort in San Fernando."
There was silence on my end of the line.
"You know, the Caribbean island."
"Oh, yeah," I muttered, "So, great for you. How does this involve me?"
"I can't go, see, because I got this big contract we're working on here in Seattle. So I thought, great! I'll give it to mom and she can go with one of her girlfriends. It will get her out of that big lonely house. So mom agrees and for the first time in a long time I think she got excited about something.
"I had dinner there last week and she had half a dozen maps of the Caribbean spread on the table. She'd found some book about the history of San Fernando, and she'd downloaded schedules of tours you can take to the other islands around it. I mean, that's the most excited I've seen her since the old man left."
"Well," my brother continued, "It's a long, involved story, but it seems her friend just met this guy, and instead of going to San Fernando, at the last minute, her friend decides to go to Las Vegas to marry this guy. Funny, huh? And meantime, I've made all these reservations and booked airline tickets and on and on."
"And exactly how does this involve me?" I repeated.
"So I thought, what can I do? This will really destroy mom. She'd never go alone, of course. Then I came up with the perfect solution. I thought, hey, Tom doesn't have a real job..."
"Watch it, Ken," I interrupted, "I'm a consultant with a PhD in electrical engineering and make more in a year than you do in two."
"Whatever," he continued, "What I meant was, your time is your own. And you being separated and all, I figured, hey, why doesn't my good brother Tom go with mom to this place?"
"You figured all that out yourself?" I asked.
"Yeah," he answered, "What do you think?"
"You're crazy," I answered, "That's what I think."
"You haven't seen her in over a year. She told me that. Look, I'll make all the arrangements here in Seattle. It's not like I'm asking you to sit naked on an anthill or something, this place is top of the line, check out their website. Not so bad a deal, huh?"
I reluctantly asked him for the dates. While he held on the phone, I checked my calendar. I could squeeze it in, I realized, and suddenly I thought about the twelve hour days I'd been working for the last few months, and how much I needed a break, and how I did feel a little twinge of guilt about not seeing the family in so long. What the hell...
"O.K." I told my brother, "I'll go."
It was 11:30 by the time we checked in. The resort was a casual, cabin type of setup, with a single main building, and cabins spread down the beach on either side.
"And will you be eating breakfast in your cabin, or in the dining room," the girl at the check-in counter asked. I looked at mom. She shrugged, as if to say 'I don't know, you decide'.
"Uh, I guess we'll have breakfast here," I answered.
"Your cabins are about a half mile down the beach," the girl continued, "Carlos will take you. Call when you want to be picked up in the morning."
I was momentarily confused. Carlos? Taking us?
Mom poked me in the ribs and pointed to the door. There was Carlos, our bags in hand. We followed him to a six-person golf cart waiting in the driveway.
The cabins we passed seemed in the moonlight to look like miniature duplex houses, each one with two doors, with a little porch in front of each door. They were about a hundred yards apart. Carlos stopped the cart.
"You're the one on the right," he said as he took our luggage and led us inside, setting our suitcases on folding carts.
I fumbled in my pocket for a tip. Carlos gave a little bow and was gone.
I looked around. The cabin was set up like a little efficiency apartment. It had a small kitchenette area with a table, a little living room area with two wicker couches, and a bedroom area separated from the rest by a waist high wooden wall.
"Shit!" I suddenly exclaimed.
Mom looked at me, startled.
"Sorry," I said, "I forgot to tell them we needed a rollaway bed."
"Don't worry about it," Mom said, "We'll get one tomorrow. Remember when we used to go camping and the four of us would spend the night in that little tent?" she asked, "Compared to that, this will be a spacious sleeping arrangement. And besides, it will be the first time I've had a warm body in bed with me since..." she paused, "since he left."
"If it's O.K. with you." I said, shrugging my shoulders. I looked at my watch. It was midnight. I was exhausted, and didn't look forward to spending another half hour waiting for a bed to arrive.
"I'll get the bathroom first," mom said. She opened her suitcase and as she began getting her things, a loud scream suddenly pierced through the air. Startled, we both turned toward the source of the scream; the wall separating our suite from the one adjoining us.
My first thought was to run out the door to help. I looked for a phone. Did they have 911 here?
Then there was another scream, and a woman's voice cried out loudly, "Yes, Roy! Do it to me, Roy! Yes! Fuck me now! Put your big cock in me and fuck me now!" It was a woman's voice. A young woman with a southern accent. Alabama or Mississippi, I guessed.
I looked at my mother, a smile forming on my face. She smiled back at me. I think we were both relieved that at least it wasn't a mad ax murderer next door. The cries and screams continued.
"Oh, Fuck! Oh, Fuck! Oh, Fuck!" we heard the scream.
"I'll go say something to them," I said, looking at mom. I was a little embarrassed for her.
"No," she said, "It's alright, they'll be done in a minute or two." She blushed slightly.
The screams ended. Whoever was next door had finished their sexual workout. It was quiet again, and mom went into the bathroom. As the door to the bathroom closed, I grabbed a pair of shorts and a t-shirt from my suitcase. I quickly changed into them and slid under the covers on the bed.
A few minutes later, the door to the bathroom opened and mom stepped out. She was wearing a white, knee-length nightgown. The light in the bathroom was still on, and as she hung her clothes on the hooks outside the bathroom door, for one brief moment, I could see the light shining through the fabric of her nightgown, showing the outline of her full, large breasts, and how they swayed back and forth, braless, under her nightgown. I closed my eyes and was instantly asleep.
My eyes popped open. My bladder had sent an urgent warning to my subconscious brain that I'd better wake up, or risk a disaster. It was dark and it took me a moment to remember where I was. I stood and stumbled in the darkness to the bathroom.
With my business done, I opened the bathroom door, keeping the light on so I could check out the path back to the bed.
I saw mom, lying on her stomach. It was hot, and I realized we hadn't thought about turning the air conditioning on, and the blanket on the bed had pulled up until it was bunched up at mom's waist. Her nightgown had followed the blanket.
I looked down at her, the light from the bathroom illuminating the bed. I don't know why, but I just stood there and looked. I stared at her feet. Her toenails, I noticed, were painted red. Then up her calves to her thighs. They looked smooth and trim. Then higher, to her ass, covered by her panties. Her ass was large and full, but at the same time looked firm. Not bad for 48 years old. She must work out, I thought to myself. Her panties were white and silky-looking where they hugged her rear, and in the middle, darker, as her panties spanned the deep valley between her asscheeks.
Mom's legs were slightly spread, and I could see the uppermost part of her inner thighs, white and smooth, as they came to a juncture at the point hidden beneath her panties. Her head was turned slightly away from me, and her blonde hair spread out on the pillow like a halo.
I have no idea why it came to my mind at that moment, but I thought about the last time I'd had sex. It had been two weeks before, when I'd been working late at a client's office, and the girl who'd been assigned by the client to assist me started talking about what a rotten marriage she had, and how her husband didn't appreciate her, and one thing led to another and we were soon locked in a passionate embrace.
And I remembered how she took my hand and led me to her boss's office. She cleared the clutter off his desk, and said to me, "I want it here. I want you to fuck me here." And I did. She was active and loud as we fucked, and afterward, she wiped my penis clean with her hand and spread the mixture of my cum and her pussy juices all over the seat of her boss's chair. "He's such an asshole," she said, "let him figure out where that came from."
I looked down again at my mother's legs and panty-covered ass. Maybe it was that memory of two weeks ago, or maybe it was just the Caribbean air, but I realized my cock was now hard and erect, pointing toward the ceiling. I'm not sure what motivated me to do it, but I went into the bathroom and grabbed a little bottle of body oil I'd seen earlier.
Moving to the foot of the bed, I squirted the oil onto on my cock. Looking down at mom, I took my cock in my hand and slowly began stroking it. I looked at her face, nestled into the pillow, her hair, silky and soft, and I stroked my cock harder. I looked down at her thighs, and at the place they came together at her ass, and suddenly I felt the cum spewing out of my cock. I jerked my hand hard up and down, and my cum flew out in stringy waves, landing in large globs on the carpet in front of me.
I got a towel in the bathroom and knelt down on the floor, my cock hanging limp under me. I cleaned my cum off the carpet as best as I could, all the while trying hard to suppress my feelings of guilt and embarrassment at what I'd just done.
When I opened my eyes, the sun was shining directly into them. I squinted and turned my head away. Mom was sitting at the table, sipping a cup of coffee.
"Finally awake, sleepyhead? Breakfast ends in half an hour. Let's get going. I've already called for our cart," she said with a smile.
Over breakfast, mom outlined the plans for the next few days. She had something scheduled every day.
"Today," she told me, "we get a boat at 4:00 for San Maritius. They have a tour of the museum there that will last until 6:00, then we can take a taxi around the island and meet the last boat back here at 9:00."
I looked at her in amazement and just nodded my head. My idea of a vacation didn't seem to be the same as hers.
"What about we hit the beach until we have to get the boat?" I asked.
"Yeah, you know, sand, ocean, waves, that kind of stuff."
"I didn't even bring a swimsuit."
I looked at her in amazement.
"We're in a Caribbean paradise, and you didn't bring a swimsuit?"
"I haven't been swimming in years," she replied.
"You have to go back with a tan to at least prove to Ken you were here. And it's not about swimming," I said, "It's about lying on the beach with a good book, relaxing.
"Maybe I don't know how to relax," she said with a smile, "Maybe when we're in town the next time, I'll look for a suit." Same old mom.
After breakfast, we headed back toward the lobby. I saw a little gift shop/convenience store type of place and we wandered inside. Against one wall, there was a nicely stocked selection of wine. They had my favorite Merlot for about half the price I'd pay back home. I loaded six bottles in my arms. Then I saw the clothes rack at the back of the store.
"Mom," I said, "they've got swimsuits here."
She walked back and glanced at the clothes rack.
"No, those are for girls. Not my style."
I looked at her, a confused expression on my face.
"Look," she said, "They're overpriced and undersized. I can't buy any of these. Maybe in town I can find a clothing store."
"But town is thirty miles away. I'll pay for the suit. I just want to sit on the beach for a while until we go on your tour."
Mom glared at me, but finally gave in. She glanced at the rack and grabbed a suit, handing it to me. "You're wasting your money," she muttered.
"Yeeek!" mom screamed.
"I can't come out in this!"
"This is for a nineteen year old, not for me, and it doesn't fit. It's too small," she called out to me through the closed door.
"It doesn't matter. Look, there's no one on the beach, and if there was, they're strangers anyway.
"No way, I couldn't even let you see me in this."
"Come on, Mom, you're just an old fuddy-duddy. Be a little daring."
A moment went by, then another, then the door to the bathroom opened. I let out a little gasp as my mom stood in the doorway.
It was a peach colored bikini. The top cupped her big breasts, covering them, but just barely. And she was right, the bikini was too small. The peach material spanned across the middle of her breasts, leaving most of the upper parts exposed, and at the bottom, her breasts swelled out from under the tight bikini top.
And the bottom of the bikini...the whole thing hung low on her hips, at least three inches below her belly button. The front and back were two 'V's, each 'V' coming to a point and disappearing at her crotch, exposing her outer thighs and hips the entire way to her waist.
I let out a little whistle. "Sexeeey!"
Mom frowned at me.
"I couldn't possibly be seen in public like this," she said.
"Mom, there's no public here, besides, you have a great body. You must work out, huh?"
She nodded and gave me a brief smile, as if happy that I'd noticed.
"I try to go down to the club about three times a week," she said, "nothing too much. Treadmills, bicycles, that type of thing."
"Well, whatever you're doing has sure paid off."
She blushed and thanked me.
Her belly was smooth and while not perfectly flat, most women half her age would be proud to have theirs look as good. Her thighs looked trim and tight and their muscles seemed well-toned.
"Let's go down and get some sun." I said. There was a whicker basket in the kitchenette stuffed with picnic type things, and I threw a couple of bottles of wine in it. Grabbing two folding chairs from the porch, I ran in my bare feet toward the beach. Aside from another couple several hundred yards away, it looked like we'd have the entire beach to ourselves.
I set up the chairs and looked back toward the cabin. Mom was just coming out the door. Of course, she'd slipped a blouse on and had a large beach towel tied around her waist. We sat down, and each of us propped a book up on our lap.
Suddenly a figure appeared in front of us.
"Hi, there! We're your next-door neighbors. We saw you coming down here and just wanted to stop by and introduce ourselves."
I immediately recognized the voice. With its southern drawl, it was the same voice we'd heard screaming the night before.
"I'm Lisa," she said, "and that's my husband Roy." She pointed toward a figure headed toward us carrying two beach chairs. She giggled, "It feels funny to say 'my husband'. We've only been married for three days. We're on our honeymoon now. Roy and I are from Mobile. How about you guys?"
I put out my hand. "I'm Tom, and this is my... this is Sally."
Lisa shook each of our hands enthusiastically. By now, the figure with the chairs had arrived. Roy propped the chairs against his legs and extended his arm to each of us.
"We're from...Seattle," I said, figuring there was no sense in going into the whole Seattle/New York story.
"It's so nice meeting you, Tom, Sally," Lisa said, "I'm sure we'll see more of each other Well, it's a big beach so we'll walk up a little ways to give you guys some privacy."
"Don't be silly," mom said, "put your chairs down right here."
I looked at her and rolled my eyes. So much for a quiet day at the beach.
As Roy unfolded the chairs, I had a chance to study them. Lisa was a short girl, and a little on the plump side. For some reason, she reminded me of a little roly-poly teddy bear. She wore a bikini that she definitely shouldn't have been wearing. The top consisted of two triangles of cloth that barely covered the front of each breast. As she talked, her floppy breasts jiggled up and down and I was afraid they might at any minute pop out from the top of her bikini.
In the front, the bottom of her bikini was nothing more than a three-inch wide strip of cloth that went from her waist to her crotch. Her stomach, while not exactly fat, had a chubby, rounded look to it. Lower, her waist curved out into a large ass, which spread out against the surface of the beach chair when she sat down.
Lisa had a pretty face. It was round, with dimpled cheeks, and a little cupid mouth that always seemed to be curved upward in a smile. And her eyes... her eyes had this little devilish glint to them, as if she was about to do something bad, and wanted you to join her.
Roy looked to me to be about six feet tall. He had a muscular build, his biceps were thick and well formed and his stomach rippled with muscles. He had on a pair of bikini-brief swim trunks. They hugged him tightly, and looking at him, it was impossible not to notice the large bulging mound pushing out against the front of his trunks.
It soon became evident that Roy was the strong and silent type, apparently already resolved to the fact that Lisa was the spokesman in their partnership. Lisa sat on the edge of her chair facing us. She began to talk. Lisa, we soon found out, was a talker. Five minutes later, I knew more about Lisa's life story than I knew about some people I'd known for years.