A Family Holiday Surprise Ch. 03

I must have dozed off finally, and slid into a deep sleep.

When I awoke the following morning, the sun was streaming in through the open window and Helen had gone. As I lay there on my back, the sheets twisted around me, all of the mental turmoil of the previous night rushed back into my head. Helen! Andrew! The bastard . . .

On my back, I stared up at the ceiling. I hadn't been mistaken, had I? She had groaned his name, hadn't she? A small seed of doubt niggled at me. I turned and looked at the bedside clock. 10.30am! I really had slept in. I flipped off the sheets, laying there naked, allowing myself the luxury of the sun on my torso. I stretched and used both hands to scratch my balls. The result of our lovemaking had given my pubic hair an unusual stiffness. Rolling out of bed, I trailed into the bathroom to empty my bladder. Watching the steady stream of yellow splash around the toilet bowl, my mind kept replaying those final, climatic moments from last night. Damn, I better get a grip on myself. I shook the last drops from my penis, flushed, grabbed a towel, and headed down the hallway, confident I'd not run into anyone this late in the morning.

Giving a cursory knock on Penny's door, I entered. As expected, nobody there. I cast a look around her room . . . nothing to indicate our tryst of the other day. Dropping the towel on the end of the bed, I ran the shower until there was a stream of lukewarm water then stepped in. I just stood there, letting the water cascade over me, trying to shake myself out of the mood I'd sunk into. Sighing, I reached for the soap and washed the remaining evidence of last night's sex from my body.

Rinsing off, I stood there in a contemplative mood, letting the water stream over me. What should I do? Act as though nothing had happened? Play the outraged husband? Jerking out of my reverie, I turned off the water and stepped out into Penny's room. Was it really only yesterday that she had toyed with me . . . My cock twitched.

Reaching for the towel, I briskly dried myself, recalling the lingerie she'd left on the bed the last time I was in here alone. Where was it now, I wondered. Standing still, I listened intently. It was totally silent in the house. Taking a chance, I went round the bed to the wardrobe, and opened the door. There were three drawers set into the lower corner, and opening each in quick succession, I discovered she kept her lingerie in the top one. It was all neatly folded, and laid out in small piles. Slips, camisoles, panties and bras. I gently fingered a few, trying not to disturb the order. They felt soft and wispy to my touch. I was impressed that a lady of her seniority should keep such a fine supply of underwear. I looked down at myself, conscious that my cock had grown a little heavier. Pervert, I thought.

Ah well, I thought, in for a penny . . . (ha ha!). Where does she keep her soiled underwear? In the laundry hamper, of course. Lifting the lid of the basket, the container was half full of clothing. Lifting a couple of blouses, I was rewarded with the sight of three pairs of panties, and a bra. The bra was interesting in so far as it was not exactly built for support, more for show. I picked it up and ran my fingers over the lace cups, deciding it wouldn't hide much. Naughty little Penny, I thought. My cock swung out into a semi-erection. Picking up the panties, I bunched them in my fist, and raised them to my nose, inhaling the musky scent of Penny's cunt. My prick stiffened to a respectable hard-on, and I felt a little drool ease out of the tip. Wow! I said to myself. Now is not the time . . . Dropping everything back in the hamper, I replaced the lid, grabbed my towel and exiting her room, headed down the hall to get dressed.

I slid into some shorts, and pulling on a T, headed downstairs for some breakfast. All this mental exercise had given me an appetite. I rustled up some fresh bread, cold ham and hunk of cheese while water boiled for coffee.

As I finished grinding some coffee, a voice called from the lounge. "I'll have some please."

Penny!

I laid my breakfast out on a tray, and added an extra mug. Carrying it into the living room, I saw Penny had made herself comfortable in an armchair by the open window. The view outside was stunning, hills covered with lush green vegetation backed by a clear blue sky. Setting my loaded tray on the table in front of the window, I perched on the arm of the chair opposite Penny, and poured her a coffee. She put the book she'd been reading to one side, and accepted the mug from me with a smile of thanks.

I slid from the arm into the chair, and sat there looking at her. She smiled again, sipping on the hot liquid.

'What's up?" she asked.

Good question, I thought to myself. We sat there in silence. We must have been alone, as the rest of the house was quiet. Picking up my plate, I chewed on a piece of bread, and bit off a hunk of cheese, contemplating an answer. What should I say? What could I say. Your son is fucking my wife? No - not a good response.

We sat there silently, and Penny returned to her book as I gazed silently at the scene out of the window. The morning breeze was warm, drifting in through the open window. Sipping on my coffee, I came to a decision.

"Help me out with this one please Penny." I said.

She slipped a bookmark into the page, closed the book, put it on the table, folded her hands in her lap and looked at me expectantly.

"I have a dilemma . . . and it involves two people that are close to us."

I hesitated, but she remained mute.

"Helen and . . ."

"Andrew." she finished for me.

"You know?" I asked, taken aback.

"Well." she said "Not 'know' exactly, but guessed."

I sat there in a slightly stunned state. Was it that obvious? Gazing at Penny sitting there, I wondered just how much she really knew, and how much she would share with me.

"Penny . . ." I started.

"Roland." she interrupted. "I can guess where your thoughts are going, but honestly, don't torture yourself. Let me explain. If anything at all has happened, then it is most certainly Andrew who instigated it. I know my son. He's a good boy. But he has an insatiable appetite . . . just like someone else I know."

She looked at me keenly, shifted in her armchair, and casually crossed her legs. I caught a flash of white thigh before her summer skirt settled back down.

"You're a sweet man Roland. You might want to consider a little more 'live and let live', and ease up on the judgmental attitude a bit. Give yourself a break. You might be pleasantly surprised".

Penny's little speech took me aback. I sat there, sorting through my feelings. I suppose if I was honest with myself, Helen had probably done no worse with Andrew that I had with Penny. After all, we were all mature adults, as secure in our relationships as we were ever going to be. So apart from the initial sensation of betrayal, I was really only left with a bruised ego to nurse.

I shot a small, rueful grin at Penny. "You have a point." I said.

"That sounds better already." she smiled back at me, her eyes twinkling. "You might be surprised just how much more fun a positive approach can be".

She shifted in her chair again, uncrossing her legs, and allowing her skirt to settle back above her knees. She reached out a foot, and let it rest on my ankle, wriggling her toes a little. I reached forward and stroked her calf, my line of sight level with her lap. Slowly, ever so slowly, she allowed her knees to fall apart. A growing expanse of white thighs came into view. She pulled her skirt slightly higher, and widened her knees as far as the arms of the chair would allow. No panties. I had an unfettered view of her pussy, large, crinkled lips slightly parted, glint of moisture, short fuzz of fair pubic hair.

The kitchen door slammed.

"Anyone here?" It was Andrew.

Penny retrieved her foot, brushed her skirt back to preserve her modesty, and looking me in the eye, whispered "Speak to him."

"We're in the lounge." she called back, giving me what I suppose she felt was a penetrating look of encouragement.

I sat there with a bulge in my pants, aroused from the short glimpse of her cunt. What a tease. My mind was in turmoil, turned on by Penny's actions, and totally angry with Andrew over what I'd just learned. The man in question appeared in the doorway of the lounge. He smiled at us and entered the room, perching casually on the arm of Penny's chair. Placing a filial arm round his mom's shoulders, he leaned over and planted a light kiss on the cheek she presented.

Straightening up, but keeping his arm round Penny's shoulders, he looked across at me and said "What have you two been up to?"

Given what we had in fact been discussing, it was a very loaded question. Penny sat there giving me one of her penetrating looks. I regarded the two of them, sitting there next to each other. There was no mistaking they were mother and son, their facial features so similar. Andrew was taller than his mom, but had the same slight build, fair complexion and good looks. I could see why Helen might succumb to his advances. Anger churned up inside me. Penny frowned at me.

"Andrew." I blurted. "We've know each other a long time, and . . ." I choked, unable to say what I really wanted. Unable to ask why he'd been fucking my wife. Red faced and perspiring, I heaved myself out of the armchair, and stumbled towards the door, unable to say any more.

I crashed out of the house, and headed down the path, through the garden gate and into the laneway. Pausing, I looked around me with bewilderment. What the hell was I doing? I'd had the perfect opportunity, handed to me on a plate, to confront Andrew. With a witness! Cursing my own weakness, I turned and strode off down the lane, cursing myself anew. Stomping down the dusty lane, the late morning sun beat down on me, and soon I was drenched in sweat.

I don't know how far I walked that day, but gradually as my head cleared, I realized I was headed for the lake. Rounding a bend in road, I crested the rise, and below me lay a vast glass of shimmering blue, brilliant in the mid-day sun. I was soaked in sweat, and truth be known, probably dehydrated. Cruising down the slope of the hill towards the lakeshore, I could see the vague outline of buildings, and desperate for liquid, quickened my pace. I was soon amongst a few small houses nestled by the side of the lake. On the laneway leading down to a small dock was a rude taverna, and stopping on the veranda, I slumped down in a chair beneath the shade of a small arbour of vines.

My mind was in total turmoil, and I needed some breathing space. The taverna offered respite, and in my halting Italian, I managed to order a simple meal from the owner of the establishment, along with a jug of local wine. Soup and bread came. Tearing off a chunk from the freshly baked loaf, I used it to shovel the vegetables and sausage from the soup onto my spoon. Having abandoned my breakfast, after the first mouthful I realized how hungry I was, and tucked in with gusto. The red wine was chilled, and sipping it helped me down from the heightened emotional state I had climbed to.

What a desolate day I'd had so far. Two major failures to my credit. My marriage, and my inability to confront my tormentor. As I ate and drank, I was able to marshal my thoughts a little more rationally, and cleaning up the plate of chicken and risotto that had appeared, I sat back with a renewed sense of well-being. The taverna grew quiet, not a soul about. I left sufficient on the table for the meal and a generous tip, and wandered down to the lake front. The day was hot, sultry, and not a living being stirred. I had the place to myself.

Following a well trodden path out of the village and along the lakeshore, I let it lead me around the placid water. I was in no hurry, and used the exercise to digest my meal, luxuriating in the solitude and soaking up the heat of the sun. My spirits were obviously restoring themselves. After an hour of so, the path led me down to the edge of the lake, and a small shack with a crude dock. Tied up was a skiff, with a young lad working on fishing gear on board. I wandered up, and he greeted me with a shy smile. I stood on the dock, drinking the view and ambiance all in one. The lad spoke 'senor?' indicating the fishing gear, and nodding toward the lake. Why not, I asked myself. I smiled in return, and he beckoned me aboard. Taking a seat in the stern sheets, I rested against the hull as he took his time casting off, and cranking up a small motor. We drifted out a little, and the engine caught, pushing us forward in a slow arc towards the centre of the lake.

It took only 15 minutes or so before the shoreline was almost lost in the haze of the afternoon. Cutting the engine, we continued to drift. The lad set about readying his fishing tackle, and with the lazy skill of a professional, began casting. I watched from my ringside seat. The fish he caught were large and plump and sparkled silver diamonds in the sunlight. As he landed them he tossed them easily into a wicker basket in the bottom of the boat. He worked steadily, the pile in the basket growing. Towards mid-afternoon, the lad made his last cast, and coming up empty, decided to call it a day.

Sun bounced off the water as we headed back towards the haze of the shoreline. He sat beside me in the stern, one hand on the tiller as we chugged along, and handed me his water bottle. The sun was deceivingly hot, and I was grateful of the liquid. As we glided across the lake, I had calmed enough to take stock of the strange family situation. It wasn't only the relationship between my wife and Andrew, but I realized Penny was also somehow involved more that it appeared on the surface.

By the time we docked at the small jetty, I was resolved to speak with Andrew. The lad tied up, and gesturing towards the basket of fish with a raised eyebrow, asked if I'd like some. Good plan, I thought. He wrapped two large fish in some brown paper and waved me farewell with a shy smile.

As I walked home in the late afternoon sun, the package of fish tucked under my arm, I reflected on all that had happened, and concluded yet again that I had to speak with Andrew. Arriving at the farmhouse, I saw Penny and Helen from a distance, sitting beside the pool. They waved, and I acknowledged the greeting, but was not of a mind to engage in conversation. Heading for the kitchen, I discovered Andrew and Lori-Ann starting preparations for dinner. Proffering my gift of fresh fish, the meal was decided on there and then, Andrew declaring he'd grill the fish on the Bar-B-Q. I withdrew, saying I should shower and freshen up.

A couple of hours later, we were seated together. The two teenagers and us five adults, gathered round the table for late, simple meal of grilled fish, fresh bread, a tomato and onion salad with oil and balsamic, and a couple of bottles of sparkling white. It turned out to be a rather silent dinner, only the girls bantering back and forth. All of the adults appeared to be a bit preoccupied with their own thoughts. Which was fine by me. I was not really in the mood to chat.

Dinner done and my excuses made, I rose from the table and headed outside. I was kind of hoping that Andrew might just follow me so that I could confront him, but he was a no-show. So much for my resolve! I looked back in through the window. The two girls were nowhere to be seen, and the adults were all occupied clearing the table, and carting the leftover food and dishes into the kitchen. In the gathering dusk, lights appeared in the kitchen window. I sneaked back in, and scooped a bottle of brandy and glass, and escaped again into the garden. Heading for the pool, I found a chaise, and lay back drink in hand, staring at the sky. What a day!

The night closed in. A slight breeze sprung up, warm to the touch, and I lay there in the dark, staring up at the zillions of stars. The brandy tasted good, and I let the effect of the alcohol wash away my grumpiness, leaving me feeling mellow and content under the night sky.

I don't know how long I'd been there, but I was suddenly aware of another presence, and out of the darkness Andrew's voice asking if he could join me. Bugger, I thought, caught off-guard!

He pulled up a chaise, and helped himself to a brandy, pouring into the glass he brought with him.

"Look," he said, "we should talk."

"An understatement." I muttered.

"I know." he said. "Mom's told me everything."

'Everything.' I exclaimed. 'What the fuck . . . '

He took a sip of his drink. "I fully realise you must be feeling more than a little angry at me, but there is an explanation, honestly."

What on earth was he saying, I wondered to myself, keeping mute. I'm not saying a word. Let him hang himself.

We sat there silently for a while, each sipping our drinks. Finally, he seemed to have made a decision, for he put his glass down, rose and stretched, then stood there looking down at me in the gloom.

"Come with me." he said. "It might begin to explain a lot for you."

He turned and disappeared into the dark, heading away from the house down the path to the end of the garden. I quickly parked my glass on the ground, rose and followed him. I could just make him out, a shadow ahead of me. One minute there, the next gone! He seemed to disappear into the utility building at the end of the garden. I could just make him out, re-emerging and carrying a long object. The hair on my neck rose . . . was he about to assault me?

"Follow me." he said quietly.

I followed at a short distance as we circled the back of the house. Lights glowed from the upper windows. Just ahead of me Andrew stopped, and with a soft clunk leaned his burden up against one of the peach trees that grew in the meadow behind the house. I realized he'd brought a ladder.

My mystification deepened, until I heard him whisper "Up you go."

"You're kidding." I countered. After all, this was someone's bedroom above us. But he took me gently by the arm, and urged me to climb the tree.

"You'll understand more, I promise you." he said.

With a final urging, he turned and left me alone. I looked up at the ladder, just discernable in the light cast from the upper windows. Well, nothing ventured.

Wiggling the ladder into the soil, and ensuring it was firmly caught in the branches above, I started to ascend. The lower rungs were easy, but once I started to encounter branches in the dark, I picked my way carefully, wanting to avoid a stick in the eye. Reaching the top, I reversed my position and found that I had a clear view into a bedroom some 15 yards away. There were twin beds and a wardrobe, and I realized it was Jooles and Tash who slept there. I was stunned. Andrew had encouraged me, no, invited me to be a peeping tom on his daughters!

As if by magic they both appeared, presumably from the bathroom as Tash had a towel draped over her shoulder. Otherwise, they were both stark naked! My curiosity woken, I clung to a branch, willing them not to see me. But they were far too pre-occupied, and as I watched Tash laid the towel across the end of one bed and Jooles sat down on it, facing the window. Tash came around in front of her, presenting her back to me. I couldn't help but admire the pert curve of her buttocks, tanned overall except for the tiniest triangle of pale skin at the top of her cleft. I'd also noticed that both of them were totally clean of pubic hair. Although sisters, they were certainly built differently. Jooles the brunette was a good few inches shorter than Tash the blond, and had small, pint size breasts, with dark rose red nipples. Tash was a little wider in the hips, and had wonderful pear shaped tits with large, pale pink nipples.

I'd taken all of this in within a few seconds, because what happened next made my jaw drop. Tash pushed her sister back on the bed. Jooles let herself drop back and lifting her feet onto the end of the bed, spread her thighs. In one smooth, flowing motion Tash knelt in front of her sister, and buried her head between her sister's legs.