Rear View Mirrors

Every year for the past four years the club had organised the junior soccer trip. Every year for the past four years their son Scott would ask if he could go, and Colin would sign the form and pay the money for their share of the team's accommodation. Every year for the past four years Colin and Julie woke up early, see their boy off when the mini-bus pulled up, they'd wave at the coach and the team going on the tour of the north of the state for the long-weekend. Colin would rest his hand on his wife's soft rear under her yoga pants and she'd wiggle her butt a little as they waved the bus off into the distance, excited at having a few days alone-time, then they'd jump back into bed...

...and fall asleep. Sometimes the planning and imagination was more exciting than the reality because mid-forties meant tired. Mid-forties, two grown children - now adults and living interstate, and one boy left edging closer and closer to adulthood - meant jumping into bed together might mean a quiet fuck or, more often than not, they'd jump into bed and fall asleep. He knew that their younger selves, now just distant figures receding in the rear-view mirror, laughed at them through the dusty years. They still worked out, though, at least they looked after themselves, readying for that promise of ever looming retirement, for some fun as fit older people with fewer responsibilities, a second youth with saggier skin but more sense and better means, before being shuffled off into a nursing home at the end of it all. He hoped they'd have more adventures in the future, but that would be later, not right now. 'Right now,' was middle-aged. 'Right now,' was being tired most of the time. 'Right now,' was the soccer club deciding that a bus wasn't safe in the current climate, just in case a lockdown was called and there was no easy way to drive a load of kids the six hours back through multiple towns after sharing accommodation, but a tour of the north of the state for some friendly soccer matches at the end of the season was still ok. So, this year, unlike all the other years, parents were asked to organise their own accommodation, supervise their own kids outside the games, and drive them to and from the grounds.

"Maybe it will be fun," Colin had told his wife. "Why don't we all go? I'll rent a place near the beach, somewhere nice, we'll eat out, wait until Scotty falls asleep and, well..."

#

It was dark and raining when they pulled into the seaside town of Sparrow. Fours hours on the road in their small car seemed like fun at first, but as the hours wore on and the rain settled in, all Colin wanted to do was pull up at the hotel he'd booked, have a coffee and relax.

The Boutique Hotel Across from The Sea in the town of Sparrow was at least partially true to its naming. It was definitely a hotel, and it was indeed directly across from the sea. Calling it 'boutique' in the accepted sense of the term, of a hotel that was small, trendy and quirky, was stretching it. In this case it meant tiny, with no attended check-in, and a coffee machine in the foyer. It was barely more than an AirBnB with multiple private rooms and no shared toilet.

They took their bags inside and settled in for the night, ready for the weekend of early morning driving to the next town over for the first game and the trips to and from various other venues dotted along the coast, and tepid tuck-shop coffee and stale pies. Their room was no more than the walled off end of the downstairs hallway with locking doors at both ends, its L-shape affording the double bed some privacy from the single bed their son plonked himself onto, his ear-bus in and endless Tik-Tok glowing at him from his phone as he fell asleep.

Colin and Julie both undressed and climbed into bed, thankful for the minimal privacy, and despite being weary and a little cranky, Colin spooned his wife and they drifted off.

#

Colin stirred. Darkness. It took him a moment to remember where he was, and he briefly wondered why he'd awoken -- ah, noises from upstairs. Great, in addition to the small rooms, the sound was travelling through the thin walls-

"Oooo," came a soft feminine voice rolling across the landing and down the stairs, "ooo...ooo...oh...mmm..."

Colin stopped breathing, not daring to make a sound in case he caused his wife to wake or somehow caused their amorous neighbours to stop. The insistent sounds of a woman being slowly shafted continued.

"Mmm...mmm...mmm...oh...mmm..."

Low moans. Not like a porn movie, but the soft sounds of a woman quietly enjoying a slow fuck. Pauses between each moan. Colin imagined it was the slow lift of a woman straddling her man's cock, sliding up in the semi-darkness on her knees, only to slowly slide back down and let out another low-moan as she bottomed out and the cock reached the limits of her cunt, dimpled butt-cheeks clenching.

Colin was hardening, listening to their slow pace, enjoying their fuck session. He had his back to his wife and faced the wall. Colin rolled over. He put his hand on his wife's hip, gently rested it on her soft flesh, trying not to wake her as he quietly and slowly began stroking his penis. He kept his hips back so as not to accidentally bash his hand into her.

The sounds coming from the upstairs were more urgent now, her mewing being joined by the gravel grunts of her partner. Colin could barely keep his hips from thrusting forward and gave an unintentional bump. He felt Julie stir and he froze.

"Jesus, Colin, what are you...oh..."

Julie was cut short.

"Mmm...mmm...mmm...ow...ooow...ooww...yeah..."

Their neighbours were louder now, and Julie cut her sentence short, it being obvious what Colin had been doing, and why.

"Sounds like they're having a good time," she whispered, "the dirty little whore..."

Julie reached between her legs and pulled down her panties down. She pushed her butt back and cradled Colin's cock between her cheeks so that the tip rested against her warm arsehole. He felt the soft flesh contract as she squeezed her sphincter, pressing the end of his cock. The warmth of her naughtiest hole excited him further. He didn't try to push into her, but instead resumed quietly stroking his cock. She squeezed her cheeks together, sporadically and not in sync with his strokes but the arrhythmic clenching excited him and stiffened him further. His cock head thrust forward and was sometimes met with a squeeze, and their friends upstairs moaned more urgently and made noise enough for the four of them. Her moans were joined by his loud grunts. He sounded like a dog salivating, a mutt fucking its bitch from behind. He let out a loud growl which faded off and she started moaning loudly, "Mmm...mmm...ohhh...yes...yes, yes," through the darkness from above. Imagining her cunt being filled with cum was too much and Colin felt his seed welling up. Instead of speeding up to a quick release he maintained his slow, quiet strokes, moving as little as possible as Julie played with herself. She massaged her clit, strummed it with urgency from left to right at a fast rate. They barely breathed in their effort to stay quiet, and holding their breath seemed to intensify their pleasure. He enjoyed the agonising build-up of pressure in his balls, the expectation increasing with each stroke. He neither clenched to accelerate the climax nor tried to relax to stop himself exploding as his wife's arse kissed the end of his cock with each stroke. He felt as though he was priming a pump and each stroke moved his load closer to the surface. Each stroke filled his shaft a little more, stiffened it until it was a rod of which his younger self would have been proud, almost as though the come added to its girth, his fluids being advanced to the tip with each downstroke, until the pressure was overwhelming and he unleashed with a long spurt of hot seed into his wife's crevice, his legs stiff as boards and his mind empty of everything except the rush of pleasure, the thrill of spilling his seed onto a woman. Julie grabbed the top of her hip and pulled her cheeks open when she felt the first stream. Colin's second stream lubricated her stretched sphincter, and his tip poked its way inside and injected semen into her open hole, coating the inside of her anus.

"Oh, you nasty prick," she whispered the words as quietly as possible as he smeared come onto her and into her, "did you come in my shithole? Filthy bastard...you dirty little fucker..."

Colin kept stroking with the same measured slow stroke, excited by his wife's long forgotten dirty mouth, pumping his load between his wife's cheeks as she swore at him, between her legs and onto her thighs until he was empty. Julie reached back fondled the tip of his dick and then smeared the fluids into her skin, then slid finger between her cheeks and poked a finger into her hole, pressing the warm seed inside her butt. She violently fingered her arse with his hot lubricant, and the squelching sound of his semen being rammed into her hole coaxed the last drop of cum from his cock.

Upstairs was silent. Colin was spent. Julie removed her finger and pushed herself back, moving herself into a spoon with her husband. She grabbed his hand and pulled it around her, and Colin felt her fingers, warm from fingering her own butt and wet from his cum. They closed they eyes, her panties still around her thighs, his cock resting against her cum-stained cheeks, and they fell asleep for a few hours more.

#

Colin awoke to the dull light of dawn through the greasy window and heard the sound of footsteps down the stairs and the clank of a key being dropped into the early checkout box near their door. With Julie still asleep and their son not yet stirring, he rolled over and pulled on his trousers and a t-shirt, slipped on his shoes, and walked out to the tiny shared lounge ostensibly to get some coffee from the machine.

He walked to the footpath to see the young lovers about to leave. A girl who was barely a woman in a denim mini-skirt climbed into the passenger side of the two-door sports car and a muscular boy-barely-a-man jumped into the driver's side. The engine fired up and it took off, receding into the distance, disappearing from view a moment later.

Colin doubted those young bodies gave a second thought to the man who stood on the footpath and watched them leave. He doubted they'd looked in the rear-view mirror at him and they probably couldn't have cared less about him if they had.

"Where I am you will be," he thought. He smiled. He hoped...he hoped...what did he hope? That when their time came to be standing on the footpath watching a car speed of into the distance, that they'd remember their past, that they would be reminded that youth was never wasted on the young, that there was always an adventure for today.

"I wish you well," he thought, and sent them on their way to wherever they were going with the warmest regards. They'd never hear his good tidings, but he'd heard theirs. Sometimes you needed to listen to the secret sounds in the middle of the night. Sometimes those sounds were the only things that made sense.

Colin walked back into the hotel, straight into the arms of his wife who waited him in the lounge with a tepid coffee, a twinkle in her eye, and a kiss for his lips.

"C'mon," she said with a smile he hadn't seen in years, "we've got a soccer ground to get to, and I'm sure we can find something to do while they go through their pre-match training..."

And then Julie leaned in close and whispered quietly into Colin's ear:

"...you dirty fuckin' cunt."