Nora in the Sun Pt. 02

The Mexican city of Chetumal was practically a step to the north - a little bridge connected Consejo and Chetumal, giving my parents the daily choice of enjoying the excitement of Chetumal, or the placid beaches and streams and palm forests of Consejo. We were all pretty excited.

"Ooh," mom breathed, by now fully awake. "I could kill for a ceviche." Dad mumbled a comment about how she should probably skip dinner. Mom's jaw set, but she ignored it, refocusing on the village. She kept alert, trying to spy out the villa we'd be staying at. Everyone in the bus was enthusiastic, except of course, for dad. As we got off, a few villagers waved and approached. Dad started snapping his fingers in response, trying to keep literally everyone away from our stuff.

"Ross," mom groaned again. "You're doing it again. Come on."

"Gotta keep our stuff safe, Nora." Dad said, gritting his teeth. He tried to shoo away a guy who clearly had a sign with our last name on it. "Go on. We don't need help. Go! No mas, por favor!"

"He's the guy we're supposed to meet, Ross!" Mom threw up her arms. "How are we supposed to get to our place if he doesn't give us the key? Didn't you even read the pamphlet I told you to read?" His silence gave her an answer as we followed our host, my mom apologizing as we went down the path to the two-story modern home where we were staying.

The villa itself was gorgeous - the bottom story had a wide living room, a kitchen, a bedroom (for me), and a patio that stretched over the sand and onto an incredibly wide beach. The other villas on the beach were far, far off, glinting in the distance with warm, orange lights. "Oh my god," she gasped. "It's... actually on the beach. It's lovely."

"Other bedrooms upstairs," said our guide in perfectly passable English as he gestured around the place, his eyes flicking down to mom's chest every few seconds. "Lots of water and juice in the fridge. Some tequila in the pantry," he winked at my dad, who nodded awkwardly, but approvingly. "And if I may recommend, you should head north to Chetumal for drinks if you don't feel like going to the bar in Consejo. Prices are best here, but the fun is in Chetumal. You can even walk the beach to get there. Takes maybe a half hour. Just keep your passport with you. Can I give you dinner recommendations for tonight?"

"No," dad said strongly. Mom glanced at him, hurt. I wasn't sure why he said it either. Mom's figure was the best any woman her age could manage. The host certainly thought so. I caught him ogling her ass every time she turned around.

"And... it's safe here?" Mom asked, cautiously. She wrapped her arms around her slim waist, self-conscious. I guess dad's comment were finally getting to her

"Oh, extremely." Our host leaned on the counter. "I don't recommend wandering around by yourself in the dark, but that goes for everywhere. We haven't had anything happen here in a couple years. Very safe."

Mom almost relaxed, warily eyeing dad, who was admiring the tequila bottle without even seeming to notice her. "Wonderful."

That night, right after I exhaustedly showered and got into bed, mom and dad got into a fight. I couldn't quite tell what it was about, but since my bedroom was just below theirs, I could tell that there wasn't much positive feeling going either way. There were some phrases thrown back and forth. Things like, unbelievable. Why were you so rude. How can you say that. Not like you used to look. Then, I heard a shout. Then stomping, going all the way down the stairs, and huffing as my dad wrapped himself up on a blanket on the couch.

I thought about mom being by herself in her room. There wasn't much I could do except think about all the ways even the façade of their relationship crumbled.

I thought being in college meant mom and dad had the house to themselves. But everything about this trip seemed to be an endless trail of clues to the fact that it really only meant that they were more by themselves.

I couldn't imagine what it would be like to be mom. To be alone even when with the person she married.

She probably feels so lonely. Feels like she needs something. Maybe something... in her. Like she needs a man.

The thought surprised me. I tried to push it out, but it festered.

She probably spent a lot of nights in their room, trying to get dad to do something. Trying to be beautiful. She probably tried a lot of ways to get his attention -- flirting, coaxing. Trying every way a woman could think up. Probably tried to keep fit, which she definitely had accomplished, despite his denial. She probably tried to seduce him time and time again. What kind of stuff had she tried? What ways did she try to allure my father? Did she even try anymore?

Does she touch herself instead?

My mind flashed with the sudden image of her skin. Of her breast, revealing itself to me on the plane. Of her gorgeous, white, milky flesh.

What does she look like when she touches herself?

My brain played that thought, that question, over and over. I thought about her legs, pale, smooth, maybe writhing, maybe her face contorted in pleasure, picturing her with a toy, or using her fingers in something invisible... something... pink. Or maybe, she was writhing on something. Squirming, breathless on a cock. On a man. On me. On mine. Squirming.

My dick sprang up and I felt an unbearable heat rise in me.

I slapped myself, hard. "Get it together," I hissed. I did some pushups. Checked my texts. Did more pushups. Went to bed. I tried opening the internet to pass the time, but I forgot to get the wifi password from the living room, and I definitely didn't want to go out there with dad after mom put him out. I settled into my sheets and listened to the sound of the waves through the windows instead. Maybe if I just fell asleep, I could...

There was a sudden sound. Then another. A series of sounds.

It came from above me. Like a quiet thudding.

I froze. The sound of the waves was too loud through the open windows. I couldn't make it out.

It could be her.

"It can't be," I said to myself. "Damn, Brett, get your head out of the gutter, man." But the thudding continued, barely audible. At first I thought dad had gone back up there, and they were making love, that maybe mom had forgiven him and seduced him in the hope of making the vacation better.

I sprinted to my door, and confirmed that dad was sitting on the couch, enjoying some tequila and Mexican television with the volume off. So he wasn't up there. She was by herself. Making noise.

The noise kept going. I held my breath, trying to figure out what exactly it could be... until I heard a low hum. It was unmistakable. It gave a low note, rattling against my eardrums with the clear noise of a vibrator. I knew that sound from porn, from girls I knew. There was no mistaking it.

"It's probably just... a fan," I whispered to myself, mouth dry. But there was no mistaking it. I knew exactly what was going on up there.

Then there was a soft, feminine grunt that came through the ceiling. Then another. And another. Heat in my core surged powerfully downward.

And then there was quiet gasping.

My cock grew, arching through my underwear, pointing directly upward. My mother's gasps and moans passed through the un-insulated walls of the villa. My cock grew harder, and harder.

I couldn't bear it. My I yanked down my pants and grabbed some tissues and jerked it, gripping myself, furiously moving. Her whimpers kept going. I felt my seed rising, each of her sounds evoking a picture of her pleasure, what I could only imagine as her sexual agony, her soft, white body thrashing in response to something she so, so badly wanted. My mind flashed back to us standing across from each other at the TSA checkpoint. Her soft, white flesh revealing itself for me. The way she looked at me. How far her bra fell to reveal a hint of her areola, how far her eyes went down as I pulled my pants down...

Then I heard a gasp that didn't quite end, a soft cry that rose as I felt cum surging. The last thing I saw in my mind's eye was the image of her mouth open, her whining in pleasure, impaled on me, her breasts heaving up and down as the coral pink of her nipples flashed in sweaty ecstasy, and with that image, everything went white.

I came, my balls exploding into the tissue. My cock pumped semen into it with a force I didn't expect and I grunted, at the same time hearing a last gasp from her upstairs.

Her soft panting came filtering down drifting softly like feathers, and so did reality.

It set in starkly that I just came to the sound of my own mother.

I went to bed and hoped I wouldn't feel guilty in the morning, but the guilt was already there. The afterglow pulled me to sleep as I heard her soft breaths from upstairs, quieting down as my eyes pulled themselves shut. Thoughts of her gasps swirled with pictures of milky white skin, haunting me with a distorted, guilty, perverted grief.