Mamma Mia!

Fat chance of that!

We got to Mamma's double room and, putting out the DO NOT DISTURB sign, she locked us in.

And then there was a swish as she pulled a zip, shrugged her shoulders and that tiny black dress fell away.

I drew in a vast gulp of air. Mamma's body was awesome. Not a negative mark or wrinkle was to be seen. She was way beyond the assistance of plastic surgeons, into the realms of miracles.

Dress-less, she was still clad all in black: bra, panties and self-supporting stockings. I've seen an awful lot of sex videos in my time but I've never seen a sight anywhere nearly as sexy as her.

Trust me; the goddess Venus would have covered her eyes and turned away in shame if she'd been lucky enough to see Mamma.

Lady juice ran down my thigh as I gaped at her. Dave, Kat and everyone else vanished out of my head like ghosts before that very first cock crow.

'Take off your blouse,' Mamma instructed.

By then used to being bossed around, I unfastened my cravat and took off my blouse.

'You have lovely boobs,' she observed, 'and no brassiere. I like that.'

'You can kiss them if you want,' I said boldly.

Mamma laughed. 'Let's kiss properly first.'

I should have known what was coming. Mamma was much the same height as me and our lips met with perfect precision. And, initially at least, our kiss was long and cool. But then she injected a little passion, pushing her tongue into my mouth, duelling with mine. And, mere seconds later, we went thermonuclear.

Could that lady kiss!

Take that as a yes.

Another zip swish preceded my skirt falling off of me. By then I didn't care. Having a hungry pair of hands on me was so moreish it wasn't true. I grunted words at Mamma, unable to use my mouth, snorting down my nose.

More, more, more, I wanted to yell.

Mamma responded by tugging down my thong. I responded by opening my legs wider than wide. It was, I admit, a less than genteel action on my part. But you had to have been there.

*****

Time becomes like sticky toffee when you're having sex. That's my firm belief, anyway. Seconds can stretch into minutes or hours. In other words I haven't a clue how long we kissed, fingered and cuddled before Mamma pulled me onto the bed.

At that stage we were both naked apart from our self-supporting nylons and the feel of our legs together was quite sensational. If I could bottle it and persuade Dragon's Den to sponsor a major marketing campaign, I'd be an overnight zillionaire.

Not that I wasted any brain power on marketing campaigns at a moment like that.

It seemed that Mamma wanted me to be pro-active so I took her greedily. And I took her in every way I could without the aid of toys. Eating, licking, tribbing, rubbing and caressing . . . we even did a little scissoring.

(I like scissoring, by the way, but I know from experience most girls prefer to trib. Mamma was not like most girls. She was cool with all I could throw at her. Consequently, I threw in the lot.)

And, at the risk of repeating myself; what a body she had! I confess I'd been reluctant to unleash her breasts, expecting sagginess and worse, but she was spectacularly trim. My breasts were in a lot of ways my finest features but hers were just as firm.

They were bigger than mine, torpedo-shaped like her daughter's, but just as firm.

Scratch Vic from the record. This is definitely not the moment to wax lyrical about Vic.

At goodness-knows-what time of night Mamma took control. And her mouth-to-fanny exploits put mine in the shade. How good was she!

And how had I (very sneakily) wondered about her experience in girl-on-girl sex! This lady did not just know about girl-on-girl sex, she excelled.

Before I could ponder on her life with Victoria's dad . . . or anything else, come to that . . . Mamma delved into her Louis Vuitton bag and produced something tiny indeed. I was still staring, puzzled as she slipped it onto her finger and did something that made it buzz.

'Lay back and enjoy,' she instructed.

So I did.

And she did.

And maybe an hour later I came so hard I flaked out.

*****

Pathetic of me, I know. All I can say in my defence is that I'd missed a lot of sleep recently and was in need of a snooze.

I woke to find my head cradled in Mamma's ample yet solid bosom, her fingers softly raking my hair.

'Shush, shush,' she crooned, as if I really was her daughter. No, not a perverted one; it was as if I was about five and needed help recovering from badly bruised knees.

A lump climbed up my throat. My mother had died a decade earlier and she had been a farmer's wife. That is to say she was a loving mother but even more practical than Dave. I'm sure I got my share of hugs and kisses when I was a bairn but, by the time I reached the age of five, I became another farmhand to be used.

Get the cows in.

Go shoot me three fat rabbits.

The bull's loose? Go bring it back.

Being cradled was nice. Mamma wasn't my mamma but right then her relationship with me wasn't something I was about to let get in the way.

Or was I?

'That no good daughter of mine is up to something,' Mamma began.

I tried to look up at her face but she gently pushed my head back down.

'You're a good girl, Heather. You'll tell me what it is.'

Sighing inwardly, I sucked in the nearest nipple.

As a diversionary tactic that was futile. Mamma's nips were very hard but the rest of her could not have been more relaxed.

A woman totally in control or what!

'So tell me,' she persisted.

Chapter Ten

I don't lie to anybody and lying to Mamma is as impossible as denying her. So I hedged.

'Victoria is very busy,' I said. 'She's forever shooting off here, there and everywhere. I know her as well as anyone, and even I can't keep track.'

'I'm sure you can't,' said Mamma, holding my face in place, keeping my mouth kissing-close to an erect nipple. 'But I'm not so easily fooled. That girl I spoke to . . .'

'Nina.'

'Yes, Nina . . .' Mamma hesitated, 'you have, haven't you?'

'You mean with Nina?'

'I don't mean with the pope, do I? Have you?'

'Well . . . maybe . . .'

'Has Victoria?'

In amplification I must explain that Mamma had never been under any illusions about Victoria and I; we had never tried to hide anything and we'd shared a bed chez Mamma dozens of times, with her full approval.

Mamma couldn't possibly have been more approving

In fact the only disapproval I'd ever got was when Vic chose to marry Graham instead of me.

'Nina's cool,' I said now, diplomatically. 'And she's as helpful as heck. You must have got her on a bad day.'

'I believe I have spoken to her before,' Mamma replied, pressing my face closer into her boobs. 'Maybe I over reacted.'

I swooned at that, and not only because of those erect nips. Mamma admitting over-reaction!

It was akin to Donald Trump admitting being wrong.

In other words it was unlikely to the nth degree.

'So,' Mamma went on, 'Croydon. What's with Croydon?'

'I told you already,' said I, 'we have a major client down there.'

'Yes, and you have video conference rooms, aeroplanes and who knows what. These days who needs to overnight in Croydon of all places? More to the point, last time she came down south, in January, maybe February, she overnighted at ours. Every other time she's overnighted in London she's stayed at ours. What's with this sudden need for a hotel?'

I shrugged. 'Maybe she doesn't want to be a pest.'

'Maybe she doesn't want to tell me about Katrina.'

Gulp!

'How do you know about Katrina?'

'I forced it out of that Nina girl, how do you think I know! Am I supposed to live in ignorance?'

Sensing I was on a loser I reattached myself to Mamma's nips.

Sensing the latest in an endless series of victories, Mamma pulled my hair, forcing my head up so I had to look into her soft, sexy brown eyes.

'Have you shagged this Katrina?' she asked.

'Yes,' said I.

'Has Victoria?'

I hesitated. Our twosome and threesome exploits were private, personal and definitely not to be revealed to a loving mother.

'Has Victoria?' Mamma repeated.

'Possibly,' I said, like a wimp.

'So Victoria's taken Katrina to overnight in a hotel so she can shag her.'

'Quite possibly,' I said. Then, hastily: 'I don't know for sure. I didn't even know they'd gone again until this afternoon, after speaking to you.'

'You said "again". So they've done this Croydon thing before?'

Me and my big mouth! 'They went last week,' I admitted.

'And you didn't know Victoria had gone again,' Mamma said thoughtfully. 'Have you and Victoria fallen out over this Katrina.'

'No,' said I, surprising myself by my vehemence. 'We're as close as ever.'

'This Katrina is a plaything, eh?'

'No, she's a very nice person who happens to be footloose and fancy-free.'

'Is she the one who did that to your back?'

That came out of deep left field. 'What do you mean?'

'Someone has been clawing your back, and recently. I'd say Sunday, maybe Saturday. And you told me you hadn't done anything with Victoria recently.'

'You weren't supposed to hear the recently bit.'

'Well I did hear it.'

I blinked and considered, trying to remember being scratched and failing miserably. I could recall wanting to bury my fingernails in Dave's back and being unable to. But I couldn't for the life of me recall getting a dose of my own medicine.

'It must have been Dave,' I said.

'Dave?' Mamma's elegant eyebrows shot up. 'You let a man do this to you!'

I couldn't stifle the giggle. 'Worry not,' I managed, 'Dave's really Davina. And take it from me; she is very much a woman.'

Mamma laughed along with me. 'You,' she said, 'how do you Yorkies say it? You must have got up a passion in her. You must have given her a reet seeing-to.'

Mamma had spent her first twenty years in semi-rural Italy and she had spent the last forty or so in London. Add that together and her attempt at a Yorkshire accent was hilarious. Not too bad, I hasten to add, but hilarious nevertheless.

Thankfully she saw the funny side. We giggled together a while, kissed a whole lot longer. Then she grew serious again.

'This Katrina,' she said, 'does she threaten Victoria's marriage?'

'No,' I said with certainty. 'She's a fling and they are enjoying themselves. No more, no less.'

'Is Victoria's husband aware?'

'I'm not sure,' I admitted, less certainly, 'but he's not the jealous type. Graham knows Victoria still sleeps with me from time to time. He's not the sort to fly off the handle.'

'This Graham who used to be your neighbour,' said Mamma, flatly.

'This Graham who used to be my lover,' I replied. 'Introducing him to Victoria was the best thing I ever did. They were made for each other. I saw that and the rest is history.'

'So he's not the jealous type?'

'He might be jealous if he's ever seen Kat, but not the way you imagine. He would be jealous of Victoria, not the other way around.'

'You modern girls,' Mamma sighed. 'What a wonderful world you live in.'

'Your world can't have been so bad,' I countered, scaring myself with my daring. 'You definitely know how to make love to a woman.'

Mamma laughed.

And praise the heavens for that!

'My marriage is . . . flexible,' she said. 'My husband likes girls and so do I. He has a reputation so it is easy for him to keep his conquests secret. And the same goes for me.'

'A very adult arrangement,' said I.

'Secrecy is the key component,' Mamma went on, her fingers stroking my hair. 'My husband and I sleep around but no one ever tells. Not that I care about tabloid newspapers. My husband is, you know, better off out of the limelight.'

In case Slipper of the Yard recognizes him after all these years I thought, but did not say.

'So secrecy is the key,' Mamma repeated, in case I'd misunderstood.

'Secrecy is fine by me,' I said, very aware I could never confide in Vic about my doings with her mamma.

Well, not without the prompting of several vats of wine.

No, make that several vineyards.

'You are sure about the sanctity of my no good daughter's marriage?' Mamma said with a tremble in her voice, shocking me with unanticipated uncertainty.

'Absolutely and irrevocably,' I replied.

Mamma dropped her appealing, doe-eyed look and became predatory, just like that.

'So it's four in the morning and we're wide awake,' she murmured, 'what happens next?'

Good question!

Have you got any more of those fingertip thingies?' I asked hopefully.

Mamma reached for her bag.

'I probably have half a dozen,' she said. 'Make it two for me or two for you. To be going on with, I mean. Or have you got other ideas?'

'I have lots of ideas, I said, 'let's kick off with one each.'

*****

In closing I must admit a minor untruth. At some point I did assure everyone that I would be using both hands on the keyboard from then-on.

But thinking about Victoria's mother and those fingertip gadgets is too much.

Those fingertip gadgets are unworldly. How did anyone possibly discover them before me!

Mamma Mia!

Here I go again . . .