Happy Easter

I sometimes think that the most unexpected thing in life is the unexpected. I mean, when your life has gone along uneventfully for many years you don’t expect to suddenly find yourself faced with a whole new situation.

For those interested, my name is Arianrhod, the name choice of Welsh parents who probably had no idea what my fellow students at school would do with that name. “Ari” “Aria” “Ria” “Anrod” “Rod” are just some of the more polite samples. Coming as we did to a country where “Sharon” “Norma,” or “Margaret” were the sort of names in vogue, “Arianrhod” was considered both exotic and laughable.

But Arianrhod I am, and Arianrhod I shall be, unless the person addressing me has opted for an early demise.

I am forty three, married for twenty three years to Bruce, which, by the way, is a safe name in this country, and producer with his assistance of two offspring who were safely named Lisa and Ian.

Lisa, aged twenty two flew from the coop nearly two years ago seeking her fortune in the great metropolis. Ian aged twenty is still with us, and whilst Bruce often wishes him a great distance off, I confess that I enjoy his youthful virility.

Those of you who have suffered under the yoke of a grown up son and his mates will understand what I’m talking about. They make free with our garage, from which emanates hroom hroom noises as they do things with cars.

They also make free with the refrigerator and the family room, but I must add that they do bring a bit of a sparkle into the household. It’s not only that, though. The presence of three robust and potent young men around the place seems to carry with it a hint of danger.

A bit more about me; I suppose I look fairly much like a lot of suburban housewives, neither startlingly good looking nor unbearably ugly. I am, as already indicated, of Welsh extraction and have the dark hair and short stature that characterises some Welsh people.

From what I can gather my marriage is about the same as lots of others around us, conventional. There’s nothing especially to excite or disturb one, unless it is such things as the children getting chickenpox, Bruce coming home from work with the flue or the annual bazaar held by our church as fund raiser.

What had once added some spice to my marriage had long since become a Friday night bed time ritual, that is, if Bruce is not too tired from his exertions at the office.

Sounds all very pedestrian doesn’t it? Yet that is how life appears to be for lots of people, and many of them seem to want it that way. Me? Well, I sometimes fantasise being swept away by some gorgeous heroic type and carried off to a desert island where we’d make love ten times a day, but if it did happen I think I’d worry about how Bruce was managing alone.

As I’ve said, you don’t expect the unexpected, but sometimes the unexpected happens. It wasn’t exactly a gorgeous hero sweeping me off to an island, but it was a very pleasant surprise when it happened.

The Easter long weekend was approaching and the routine had been for many years that Bruce cleared off with a couple of his mates and went fishing somewhere along the coast leaving me on my own. When the kids were younger it wasn’t too bad. They had been fun company so I didn’t feel left out of anything. Now, with Lisa gone and Ian and Co. off all over the place, I was anticipating a dull weekend.

My hero turned out to be a trinity of heroes, Ian, David and Brent. It wasn’t exactly an island they swept me off to, but I suppose it was the next best thing.

With utmost caution they approached me, not at all like dashing conquerors, but with more than just a touch of the fawning in their manner. Son Ian was their spokesman.

“Mum, were gong off camping up the river over Easter weekend and we wondered if you’d like to come with us?”

“Hello,” I thought, “there’s a catch in this somewhere, be careful Arianrhod.” The boys had gone off camping before and usually found some girls to go with them.

“Why?” I asked briskly.

“We just thought you’d like to,” Ian replied. “Dad will be away and you’ll be on your own. You’d enjoy it, swimming and going for walks, and we’ll do some fishing.”

“What about the girls you usually take with you?” I asked suspiciously.

“We thought we’d give them a miss this time. I mean, it’s about time you had a bit of a break.”

I was still waiting for the rest of it so I asked bluntly, “And what else would I get?”

“Well…we er…er wondered if you wouldn’t mind doing a bit of cooking.” Ah, so that was it. For some reason the girls couldn’t go with them and it was they who usually did the food buying and cooking.

“So you want someone to wait on you while you enjoy yourselves,” I said.

“No mum, just a bit of cooking. We’d keep the place tidy and all that.”

“Please Mrs. Meldrum,” pleaded David, “We’ll buy all the food and the meals are always very simple.”

I suppose I was a bit flattered that they’d asked me; after all, having a middle aged woman around wouldn’t normally be considered fun by their generation. In addition, it would be nice to get away.

“It’s a beautiful spot we’re going to,” chipped in Brent.

Earlier in our married life Bruce, me and the kids went camping quite frequently. It would be good to get away again; even do a bit of swimming that I hadn’t done for a long time. I began to yield.

“All right,” I said guardedly, “just so long as you don’t expect elaborate meals and you do the buying and paying. I expect a free trip.”

The looks of delight had just begun to spread across their handsome faces when another thought struck me.

“What are you going camping with?” They had always used the old tent Bruce and I bought years ago. It was a type that could be seen everywhere in those days; it was a square tent about four metres by four metres with a flap that lifted up to form a sort of covered area in front of the tent.

“Just the old tent,” said Ian, innocently.

“Me sleeping in the tent with three young hunks,” I thought, panic rising.

“Am I supposed to sleep with you three?”

“Er, yes. We can put a screen up if you wish.”

Living in a tent can mean one is a bit exposed, if you see what I mean. Perhaps if I still had the sylphlike figure of a young girl it wouldn’t have been so bad; I mean I’d have something to show off. Of course, such a young lady might expect some interesting consequences as a result of her display, but that seemed to be the main objective among young mixed gender campers.

“All right,” I said again, “Just so long as you don’t look at me when I’m getting undressed.”

They all laughed I thought somewhat nervously.

Bruce also laughed when I told him what I would be doing over Easter. “Reckon you’ll come back with your virginity in tact,” he chortled.

I thought that was a bit coarse, and told him so.

“Sorry, old girl,” (I hate it when he calls me that), he said. “It was just the thought of you and those three sexy young guys all shacked up in the tent.”

He laughed again; “Don’t come back pregnant, will you.”

I suppose a lot of married men find it hard to believe that their wives can be attractive to other men, especially as the middle years encroach. I decided not to respond, and leave him to his vulgar humour.

The boys were as good as their word, and did all the buying necessary for the four days we would be camping, including doing all the paying.

The one bugbear was getting up at 5 a.m. on Good Friday morning to make an early start. The boys had packed the trailer and car the night before so by 5.45 a.m. we were off to pick up David and Brent and then get on our way.

The fact that it was early in the morning, and that most people had rushed home on Thursday afternoon and then taken off for their holiday destinations, meant the roads was relatively clear.

The weather promised to be excellent.

Perhaps I should pause here to explain to those in the northern hemisphere that Easter time in our country is during the autumn and in our part of the country, is often very warm.

We cleared the suburbs and in about an hour joined the road that follows the course of the river. We could see the broad silver stream only occasionally because it is lined on either bank with thick bush land.

We came to a small town and crossed the river on a ferry and then picked up the road on the other side, still following the river.

The boys were full of chatter and jokes and joining in with their mood I related my fantasy of being carried off by my hero to the mythical desert island. They went silent for a while after that. I thought that hearing such a story from a woman my age must have been embarrassing to them.

After that I thought I had better be careful to act my age and resume the mother image.

After about an hour Ian who was driving slowed and pulled off the road to take us bumping and lurching down a dirt track. The dust billowed out behind us in a cloud, settling on the rear window to almost obscure any vision through it.

The track became barely visible showing all the signs of not having been used for a long time.

“How much farther?” I asked.

“Not far now,” Ian replied. “A lot of people come to the river over Easter, but we found this place a few years ago, and nobody ever seems to come here.”

The track had almost disappeared when we came out into an open space. It was a river sandbar fringed by tall gum trees and underbrush. Ian stopped the car just back from the sandbar in a space that showed signs of having been their campsite on other occasions.

“This is it,” he said.

I got out of the car and looked around. It certainly was a beautiful place, and after the noise and pollution of the city, so quiet and the air so clean.

The sandbar was crescent shaped swelling out along a wide bend in the river. The river made a slight murmuring sound as it flowed by, and occasionally a fish jumped out of the water in pursuit of an insect, making a plopping sound as it dropped back. Farther up the river I could see two pelicans cruising in search of a meal. Ducks and coots foraged in the water near the bank and as I watched, two black swans whirred overhead to land some distance from the sandbar.

I felt the peace of the place begin to permeate me, and was thankful to the boys for inviting me.

The boys had started to unload the trailer and erect the tent. Gas stove and gas bottle, camp seats, folding table and air mattresses were put in place, and David got to work pumping up the mattresses.

“Where would you like to sleep?” Ian asked. “We’ll put up a screen for you.”

I was feeling very much at ease with myself and pointing to a mattress at the end of the row of four I said, “I’ll sleep there. Don’t bother about the screen, I’ll manage.”

What if they did see a bit of naked me for a second, it was hardly likely to send them into a flame of passionate desire.

The boys were amazingly efficient in getting things up and in order, but the day had grown very warm and they had worked up a bit of a sweat.

“Let’s go for a swim,” suggested Brent. The other two concurred and so I got out of their way expecting them to change into swimming gear. I was due for a jolt. When they came out of the tent they were stark naked.

“Come on mum,” Ian called, “come and swim with us.”

I hadn’t worked up a sweat like they had, but the sun was warm and the river looked inviting so I decided to join them.

Don’t bother with your swimming gear,” Ian yelled from the river’s edge, “We always swim nude here.”

That was a challenge for me. Dare I let them see my naked body? A body with breasts drooping a bit, their brown nipples, and the marks of childbirth on my thighs.

I had an inner tussle with myself. Should I or shouldn’t I? I had never swum naked but knew people who had, and they had extolled its sense of freedom.

“Damn it,” I decided, “why not. If they don’t like what they see, too bad.”

I stripped off my jeans, top, panties and bra and ran for the water. For all my bold resolution about not being worried being seen, I entered the water and waded out to where it covered me breast high, then started to swim.

By the time I had had enough the boys were out lying on the sand sun drying them selves. This was the moment of truth. I walked out of the water towards them and three pairs of eyes turned to focus on me.

Had I been smart I would have walked right on past them to the tent and dried and dressed there. Instead I dropped down beside them to join in the sun worshipping.

“That was wonderful,” I said. “I’ve never swum naked before, it’s almost like being born again.”

“You see mum,” Ian laughed, “if you’ve got it, why hide it?”

I was not sure how to take that remark, so I let it pass. When I’d dried off enough I rose and said, “I’d better start lunch.”

David jumped to his feet and said, “I’ll help,” and as we made our way to the tent I was intensely aware of two pair of eyes following me.

As I dressed in the tent I was in full view of David, and I saw him trying to pretend he wasn’t looking at me. He was still naked and I could see that he had the making of a nice erection, which only goes to show I was looking at him.

“Good God,” I thought, “he’s surely not getting worked up seeing an old biddy like me?” I felt a slight tingling in my clitoris and my nipples started to harden.

To distract myself I began to bustle around and said, “Come on David, get dressed if you’re going to help me.”

He seemed to shake himself out of a trance and said, “Oh, right, be with you in a moment.” He hastened into the tent to dress and then busied himself helping me.

After lunch the boys went off fishing from the upstream edge of the sandbar. I decided on a walk along the bar then through the bush beyond. I made sure to keep the river in sight because to wander way from it can mean getting lost fairly quickly.

After a while I sat on the trunk of a tree that had fallen to rest in the river. I let my mind wander through my favourite fantasy of the hero and desert island. As I watched the river flow past I saw movement in some reeds a couple of metres away. A snake emerged from them and began undulating its way across the river.

“Ah well,” I thought, “there was a snake in the Garden of Eden, so why not here?” I gazed at the snake as it gradually got further across the river and I wondered what temptation it had in mind. I gave a silent laugh, got off the log and wandered back to the camp.

The boys had been fishing for a couple of hours and amazingly had actually caught a couple of fish. Brent looked up and called, “How about another swim?”

The boys reeled in their lines, took of their clothes and waded into the water. I just dropped my gear where I stood and joined them.

We just swam and splashed around for a while with nothing untoward occurring. I got out first and lay down where I had dropped my clothes. They came out and went to where their clothes lay and seemed to go into a huddle for a couple of minutes, and then they came over towards me. I was a trifle disturbed to notice that all three of them were sporting rather obvious erections that they took no trouble to hide.

Now I’m not the sort of person to be overly worried about signs of sexual arousal in either myself or others. It seems to go with the territory when the people concerned are ordinary healthy human specimens, and these three boys were certainly that; and for that matter given my age, so am I.

I hope therefore, you will not find it out of place if I tell you that the sight of these three virile young men in a state of sexual arousal had its effect on me. I felt myself beginning to lubricate and once more my nipples hardening.

We had agreed that for the purpose of our time together David and Brent could drop calling me Mrs. Meldrum and use Arianrhod instead. As the boys dropped down beside me David spoke.

“Arianrhod, that story you told us about being on a desert island with your fantasy hero…”

“What about it I said nervously,” as I felt his naked thigh press against mine, setting my clitoris ticking even more violently. I knew know what that touch of exciting danger I had always felt with them around was.

“Well, this is almost an island.”

“Yes, well, almost.”

“We’ve been wondering; suppose you found yourself on an island with three guys like us, what do you think we would want?”

I’m not naïve and could see his drift, but I played for time; “Food?” I asked innocently.

“Yes, that of course, but what do you think we would most want from you?”

“I…I…I don’t know.”

“You’re the only woman on the island with three guys like us, can’t you work out what we would want from you.”

I looked across at Ian to see how he was reacting but he only smiled at me and said, “Come on mum, you know what we would want.”

The situation was getting me thoroughly worked up so I succumbed and answered his question; “Sex I suppose.”

Ian was lying on the other side of me from David, and to my amazement his hand started to caress my thigh. My own son wanted to have sex with me? His hand crept up to start fondling my vagina and at the same time David began touching my breasts.

“Come mum on,” Ian said softly, “I can feel you’re all wet and ready for it.”

“With all three of you,” I gasped, but the gasp was more out of excitement than surprise.

“You can do it, mum,” Ian continued. “We won’t hurt you.”

“But Ian, I’m you mother.”

“That doesn’t mean I don’t fancy you sexually, and I can tell from the way your getting wet at my touching you want me.”

I felt hands take hold of my feet and begin to pull my legs apart. I looked down and saw that it was Brent. I had got to the point where I decided that I would make no resistance. This was not because I feared they would hurt me, but because I didn’t want to resist.

The thought of being taken by three hot young bloods was starting to thrill me, so I let my legs be spread ready for the first penetration.

Perhaps being my son gave Ian some priority because he was the first to enter me. The other two sat back and watched us as we copulated. He didn’t take long and I admit I rejoiced when I felt his thick young sperm burst into me as he groaned and whispered what sounded like words of love.

When he finished he remained in me for a few moments, then made way for Brent. Ian had been too quick for me to have an orgasm, but with Brent I certainly felt it was on the verge of engulfing me, but he too finished quickly, and it was not until David penetrated my orgasm took me by storm.

I cried out and wept with the sheer beautiful agony of it as I clutched at him, digging my nails into him and raising my legs up and back to give him maximum penetration as he planted his seed into me.

Once he had finished he remained with me for some minutes and he actually said, “Thank you.”

They had filled me to overflowing with their sperm; I could feel it slipping slowly out of me, but we continued to lie on the warm sand. I think we all went into a post coital doze; I certainly know I did.

I came to with Brent saying, “Come on, bath time.”

I felt myself lifted up and the three of them carried me down to the river. Still held by them I floated on the surface as Ian, standing between my legs as the other two supported my body, began the task of inserting his fingers into my vagina to remove the residual sperm.

When he had finished he stood waist deep in the water looking down at me for a moment, then he entered me with his young manhood, the others still holding me. It was one of the sweetest couplings I have ever known. When he finished there was another load of sperm to be removed.

When he had done I thought that David and Brent might replace him, but they didn’t. Instead I was carried back to the sand and laid down gently to bask in the sun again.

I must point out that everything they had done with or to me had been with the utmost tenderness. Even their penetrations had been tender and loving, and that is how it continued. I had prepared my first and last meal for us. From then on I was treated as if I was some delicate piece of porcelain. I could rest, walk, swim and I even tried my hand at fishing, but I was not allowed to work.