A Holiday Romance at Sandy Shores

"I... I think I lo..." he started, but she pressed her finger to his lips.

"Not the time," she said, but leant in for a kiss regardless. Forgiven - this time.

///

"Let's go in here," Vicky said, pulling at Sean's arm.

He looked up at the sign, distain flashing over his face. The Ghost Train. "Really? It's so lame. It's not even scary."

"Maybe not," she smirked. "But it's dark."

He smiled back, understanding dawning. Hand in hand they made their way through the empty queue line to the front, where the attendant directed them into the waiting ride car.

It had been years since Sean had been on the Ghost Train. It was meant for kids really, maybe with a single parent, and the bench was correspondingly narrow and shallow. He just about squeezed in, but when Vicky tried to sit down next to him her long legs wouldn't fit, not out straight. They found that if she had one knee almost at each side of the car, her feet together underneath with her legs in a diamond pattern, she could just about fold herself into place. But it meant her legs were spread almost painfully wide.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Sean asked her.

"Oh, yes," she said, a naughty twinkle in her eye, as if she was enjoying the discomfort. Something to keep in mind, Sean thought, his mind spinning with possibilities. She was a dancer, after all, so must surely be able to do the splits and contort her body in all manner of interesting ways...

Then there was the problem of the safety bar. As they tried to pull it down, they couldn't clip the restraint into place. It was catching on Vicky's chest. They tried to force it down over her large bosom, but the flesh just refused to yield to a sufficient extent, trapped as it was in one of her impressive reinforced bras. And she wasn't going to remove that, not in public.

"Lift them," Sean suggested, while the attendant started making his way over to see what the issue was.

Vicky was still pushing down on the bar. "What do you mean?"

Sean sighed, and reached round with his hands - one round her neck and one beside her - and he tucked his fingers under her boobs and pulled upwards and out, squashing the flesh up under her chin. The bar settled and clicked into place, and he let go of her boobs which fell onto the top of the safety bar and sat there, plumped and exaggerated in their raised position.

"Sorry..." Sean started, but couldn't help but stifle a laugh.

"What?" she replied, trying to maintain a serious expression, but the corner of her mouth had started to twitch.

"It's just you look like you're in some kind of bondage device!" he laughed, as the car jerked into action and started off down the track. Vicky stared at him, as if to wonder - what would you know about bondage?

Every bump and motion caused her breasts to shake. "You've pulled me out of my fucking bra!" she laughed, as the darkness swallowed the car and the wooden entry doors slammed shut behind them.

Until Sean's eyes became accustomed to the darkness, all he could see were the garish neon-painted ghouls of the ghost train. He'd seen it all a hundred times before, knew every turn and twist of the track. But as his pupils relaxed, he could see more of his immediate surroundings, and became increasingly aware of the gorgeous girl pinned in place beside him, legs akimbo. There was a time when he'd have found that far more terrifying than anything he'd see in here, but now he found it unbearably arousing.

He looked over at her, and she turned her head; they started to kiss, melting into each other, no intention of stopping before the ride did.

Sean had a hand on her knee, stroked it to her lower thigh, and ever so slowly started to run it up that silky flesh, under the loose skirt. She couldn't close her legs to stop him, even if she'd wanted to - which seemed incredibly unlikely. But the fact that she couldn't added a little extra thrill. Soon enough, his fingers reached their goal, and she moaned into his mouth as he slipped inside her. A little awkward, given the angle, but he could slide through her wet folds a little and tease at her clit.

Meanwhile Vicky reached across with her hand, rested it in Sean's lap, where she found his cock hard and constrained in his shorts. She stroked across the denim, teasing at his length, dancing over the tip. She could feel his pulse, strong and hard, against her palm. Keep that up, Sean thought, and I'm going to mess these shorts up. He could already feel himself leaking a little. Then, with her other hand, she started reaching for his zip...

Suddenly the intercom burst into life. "Riders are reminded that night vision CCTV cameras are in operation for everybody's comfort and safety!"

Sean jumped, whipping his hand back out of Vicky's skirt. She just laughed. "Give us the tape!" she shouted to the void, flicking two fingers to the air, before taking Sean's head in her hands and kissing him like he was the very air she needed to breathe.

The car slammed through the last doors, back into the daylight. Sean blinked a little as the car ground to a halt at the disembarkment station, then watched as she lifted the bar from under her boobs and slithered out of the seat. He wished he didn't have to stand up, not just yet - not with this huge tent in his shorts.

But he needn't have worried; the ride attendant only had eyes for Vicky, and had no interest in him whatsoever. "Naughty girl!" he said, wagging a finger at her.

She blew him a kiss. "Always," she called back at him, with a dirty little grin on her face. As they left, she looked back over her shoulder, winked, and flapped the back of the skirt, flashing him with the full moon.

///

They made it onto the big coaster in the end. Kay kept glancing at Sean like he was something she'd scrape off her shoes, but he and Vicky didn't notice. They only had eyes for each other. They held each other tight, on and off the rides, and wouldn't be parted. Vicky dragged him onto the full inversion rides, the swinging chair that went all the way over and hung you upside-down in a cage that looked way too flimsy to offer any protection. Sean hated those ones. He knew it had to be safe, but his brain couldn't help but ponder the tensile strength of steel bolts as he stared 'up' at the ground a hundred feet away. He staggered off the ride, hand over his heart in mock arrest, and Vicky laughed and laughed, the joke lighting up her eyes.

I do love her, he knew, as he lay in bed that night unable to sleep from the excitement. He thought he'd been in love before, but those were just infatuations. Now he was with her, he couldn't imagine what life would be like without her. He'd do everything in his power to keep her - that was the lesson he'd take away from today. Running wouldn't solve anything, talking would.

He fell asleep, content, with the widest of smiles on his lips.

///

THURSDAY

Pat rapped on the caravan door. Sean had fucked off somewhere with Vicky to have some kind of dirty day out on the beach, so he was stuck here on the campsite with nothing to do. The thought of cruising the area on his own really didn't appeal. Besides, there was a horny sexpot right here on site. So what if she hated his guts; that didn't seem to matter while he was busy rearranging hers.

The frosted glass door opened. "What?" Kay called out, clearly nursing a monstrous hangover.

"I'm bored," he explained. "Wanna fuck?"

Kay seemed to consider the offer. "Sod all else to do," she admitted, standing aside and letting him enter the caravan. Her mum Sandra had taken her sisters down to the holiday club, and was even now probably doing bingo or some such shit with her caravan club buddies. So they'd have the place to themselves, for a few hours at least. May as well make the most of it, since Vicky had fucked off with her new boyfriend and left her on her own.

Pat stepped up into the van - bigger than Sean's mum's place, but clearly not as nice. More bedrooms, but that meant the space was more cramped. Evidence of it being a very female space was everywhere - clothes, make-up and hair products covered every available surface; bras draped over half-empty vodka bottles. Clearly nobody tidied up on holiday.

Pat was led by Kay's bouncing ass, peeking out from under her T-shirt nightie, as she headed into the van. A couple of steps and Kay was at the door to the room she shared with Vicky; she peeled the T-shirt over her head and threw it into the room. "Fuck that, no room in there," she said, so Pat followed her tanned back into the double bedroom, eyes drawn to her tramp stamp tattoo just above the tiny thong. She crawled onto the bed, lay her head onto the pillow, and bounced her ass at him.

Pat didn't need a second invitation. He dropped his shorts as he approached the bed, stood behind her, grabbed her hips, and impaled her on his long hard cock.

"God yeah, I missed that," she moaned, feeling satisfyingly full as he worked himself into her. She needed this; an orgasm or two would be sure to sort out her hangover. He had such a drive, such power; his balls slapping her clit as he drove into her, the pace surely unsustainable yet he drove on relentlessly. All too soon she'd creamed over him, her legs turning to jelly, her hips only staying aloft through the grip of his strong hands and by being pinned on his epic erection.

Coming so hard and so fast had done its work, she was now awake enough to want to take charge. She pulled him down onto the bed, and mounted him, facing his feet. "I don't want to see your lousy face while you come, it'll put me off," she ribbed.

Pat watched her hips as she bucked and rocked, his cock sliding in and out of her. He grabbed her ass cheeks, pulled them wide, to watch himself disappearing into her depths, a little cream leaking from her lips and running down his length. In the mirror he caught a glimpse of her face - eyes closed, lost in concentration, boobs jumping each time he slammed up into her. He could just see her puckered asshole each time she rose high enough up his cock. Soon, he thought. Soon. He grabbed at her hips, forced her down over him at a pace that better suited his needs, her urgent moans forcing him on.

As she came again, ass quivering, he threw her aside and came up behind her, tucking a pillow under her hips which she started to dry hump, her voice a quivering mess of gibberish. Kneeling behind her, he aimed his hard length at the prize, and drove forward.

"Aaargh!!!!" she screamed, her ass being forced open. "Fucking hell, slow down!"

But Pat was in no mood to take things easy. She'd come twice already, and it was his turn. He was going for gold. He felt her pushing back up against him, knew her cries were faked for her own benefit, and plunged ever deeper inside her.

"Oh, fuck yeah, hurt me! You monster, you're splitting me open! Jesus H fucking Christ yes! Where have you been all my fucking life?"

She felt so hot and tight around him. He could feel her fingers playing with her clit as he rode her ass, and she'd reach back with her palm to feel how he was buried inside her ass while she rubbed her lips before going back into her pussy, palm covered in juices to help lube her up. Finally he could feel that familiar pressure building in his balls, eager to dump his load in her bowels...

The bedroom door slammed open. "Just what the FUCK do you think you're doing, young lady?" screamed an older woman's voice.

Kay shot forwards, rolling the duvet over herself. "Shit! Mum, what the hell are you doing back?"

"Good job I did come back here, isn't it? Do you have any idea how loud you were? If the neighbours had been in they'd have known every sordid detail, for fuck's sake!"

Pat was very conscious that Kay's mum was staring at his ass as he stood at the foot of the bed, his Metallica T-shirt offering precious little coverage while his shorts were round his ankles. Slowly he sat on the corner of the bed, facing away, as he tried to cover himself. He started to pull his shorts back on, hoping that Sandra would be so preoccupied screaming at Kay that he could just sneak out...

"You want everyone knowing what kind of slut you are? Fuck's sake Kay, how many times do we have to have this conversation? What if your sisters had heard that kind of language, and wondered what was going on? How the hell would we have explained it to them?"

"They ain't naïve, mum. They've heard you at home often enough." She dragged the T-shirt back over her head. "The whole fucking street has," she added, quietly.

"No more lip from you, you jealous little bitch. Go get me some fags."

"Excuse me?"

"The decent ones from the newsagents, mind, not that shit from the machine at the bar."

"But that'll take fucking ages!"

"Yeah, and you can use the time to think about your behaviour, young lady." Kay stomped out of the room, dragging on her DM's and making for the door. Pat went to stand, pulling the shorts up over his hips as he did so. "Not you, sunshine," Sandra said in a dangerous voice, staring daggers at him. "I'm not finished with you yet."

Oh shit.

"Mum..." Kay whined.

"Fags. Go."

The caravan shook as Kay slammed the door.

///

There was an uncomfortable silence. Pat withered under Sandra's inscrutable stare.

"Well? What have you got to say for yourself?"

Pat was damned if he was going to apologise. Clearly Sandra knew what kind of daughter she had. But it seemed the problem wasn't with the sex, but with the noise. His usual defence mechanism kicked in - when in trouble, defuse it with a joke. "I'll be sure to gag her next time."

A flicker of a smile raced over Sandra's face before she could mute it. "Oh, you're a bad one, alright. I thought so from the moment I saw you." She started to pick clothes up off the floor. This was her room, Pat realised, although the invasion of her privacy didn't seem to be a factor either. She picked up some lacy knickers and bra, deliberately fussed them into a drawer - a drawer that wouldn't close snugly because of the huge black ribbed dildo catching in the gap. As she bent over, her grey tracksuit bottoms rode down over her ass, with her tiny thong on full display. Her lower back tattoo matched Kay's. Pat found himself staring at that ass. The leisurewear she lived in belied the woman underneath.

She spoke to him while she tidied, not catching his eye. "I could hear you both as I was coming up the path. I don't know what you were doing to her, but she was clearly loving every second of it."

When Sandra had got back to the caravan, at first she was a little shocked. She was well aware her eldest daughter was no virgin; their flat had no soundproofing. But this was a little brazen, even for her, and so early in the morning. She paused with her hand on the door. God, he was really railing her, and the van was shaking with their efforts. Sandra couldn't help but wonder how that would feel. She slid round to the back of the van, against the hedge where she couldn't be seen, and leant with her shoulders and head pressed against the metal side of the caravan, with her bedroom behind. The sound transmitted clearly through the wall. Her hand slipped down between her legs as she listened to her daughter's moans and screams, the slap of flesh on flesh. It had been too long for Sandra, almost a week while she was in this shithole of a campsite, and she was so desperately horny. Hearing her baby girl scream 'you're tearing me open' in pleasure just threw her right over the edge. She came, standing in public, listening to her little girl coming on her new boyfriend's monster cock. And she knew what she had to do.

Inside, she looked at Pat. Nice body, clearly the guy works out. Bet he's got incredible stamina. "I need you to do that to me. And by god, you'd better make me come before Kay gets back."

"Er, what?"

"You heard," she said, unzipping the tracksuit top to reveal a pair of fabulous breasts in a red plunge bra. "You think Kay's a slut? She knows nothing, and what she does know she got from me. Get those fucking shorts back off and get inside me."

Pat liked his women to be a bit forward, but this was new even for him. She tore the T-shirt back off him and raked her fake nails across his chest.

"I like a man with a bit of hair," she growled. She grabbed at his shorts, popped the button with ease, and dragged them over his hips. "Jesus, no wonder she was screaming. You are packing some serious gear."

Pat might have blushed if he had been paying any attention to what she was saying. But his brain had followed his eyes into Sandra's bottomless cleavage and was hopelessly lost. He kissed his way deeper inside, feeling her breasts press into his cheeks, as he reached around for the clasp to free them from their prison.

"Fuck yeah, suck on mummy's tits," she purred, as Pat got to work on her sensitive nipples. She felt his erection poking into her stomach as she knelt in front of the bed between Pat's legs. She pushed him back against the mattress, took a heavy tit in each hand, and wrapped them round his long thick pole.

"I reckon you must be close," she said, "after railing my daughter's ass so thoroughly. I need you to do that to me, but if you're gonna go off in five seconds then that's a waste of an ass fucking." She bounced her tits over his cock, stroking up and down. "Reckon you've got the stamina to go a few times, but let's get this first cum out of the way shall we, so we can get started?" His tip stood proud over the top even of her large tits, and Sandra took that tip between expert lips as she continued to jerk him off with her boobs. She hadn't been wrong; half a minute later Pat was pumping his first thick load of the day into her waiting mouth. She pulled away, and he splashed a few strings of cum over her face. "Yeah, give it to me," she said. "A woman my age needs a good daily facial."

You ain't a bad looker for a woman in her forties, Pat admitted to himself. As she stood, stripping off the tracksuit and crawling onto the bed in just that tiny thong, she looked the very image of her daughter - a little more tanned maybe, slight wrinkling from being left out in the sun a bit too long. But those few lines were life experience. There was no fat on her, at least not where it shouldn't be; her tits and ass were lush. Maybe a little augmented, but who's counting?

"Come here, loverboy," said the cougar. "Fuck me like you're paying me. If the bed doesn't break, you're not trying hard enough."

Challenge accepted, he thought, and ploughed deep into her warm, wet depths.

///

Sean held his shoes in one hand, and Vicky in the other, walking along the golden sands behind the caravan park. The sea was out, barely visible at the horizon, such was the shallow drop of the coastline. The flat drying sand was covered in shells and seaweed, but up here above the high tide line it was loose and dry, squidging between their toes, warm and pleasant.

"I think this must be my favourite place in the world," he said, as they clambered up through the sand dunes, careful not to tread on any of the grasses or thistles in case the sharp leaves cut their feet. "Back when I was a kid and summer lasted forever, this is where I'd be. Mum and dad would set up their windbreaks at the bottom of the hill, and I'd be up here climbing through the dunes, playing pirates or whatever with my brothers, digging for treasure."

"I never had summer holidays, growing up," Vicky confessed. "We were always on the road, going to dance competitions. Mum had to arrange her shifts around my heats and finals. And now I think about it, all those coach and train fares must have cost a fortune."

"So you never had a real holiday?"

"Not like how you mean. Lots of weekends away, all round the country. But no, I never laid on a beach for a fortnight. All my tans were fake, from a bottle, then covered in glitter and make-up. And any swimsuits or leotards I wore were strictly for show, and never went in the sea."