The Family Holiday

Hi there, my name's Joanne and I'd like to relate the tale of a recent holiday:

Like so many before it, our destination had been chosen to provide the best selection of golf courses for my husband Mike, with a family friendly hotel and pool for me and our twin boys Max & Toby a somewhat secondary consideration. This holiday had been better than most, insofar as I'd met Gillian beside the pool on the first day and we'd kept each other company ever since, she too was a forty-something 'golf widow' tasked with watching over their two sons, Paul & Harry, while husband Phil spent his days on the fairways; he and Max had played several rounds together that week.

To be honest Gill and I were all but redundant, my two had recently turned eighteen and along with Gill's Harry would be heading away to colleges soon after we got home, while Paul would be returning for his second-year at Exeter University. The last thing those guys wanted were their mother's keeping an eye on them and they'd no doubt only come along as the holiday was a freebie, courtesy of the Bank of Mum & Dad; I suspect that for my lads at least, this could well have been our last 'family holiday' together?

It was our last full day in Portugal -- we flew home the following evening - and Gillian and I were much where we'd been for the whole week; laid on adjoining sun-loungers beside the hotel's pool, glancing through a selection of magazines and putting the world to rights. It was almost midday so we'd moved beyond the orange juice stage and were enjoying the second of the three pre-lunch cocktails which we each allowed ourselves and had by then reached agreement as to which of that morning's pool-side waiters had the cutest bum, though we still disagreed as to which one of them looked the most fuckable.

It was Gill who changed the subject; she nodded in the direction of the pool and bemoaned: "Jeez Jo, it doesn't seem five minutes since that would have been us."

I followed her gaze and saw two bikini-clad teenaged girls splashing around in the pool, surrounded by a crowd of similarly aged young men -- Toby and Harry amongst them -- all larking around and vying for the girls' attention. "Some things never change; those guys are just as dumb as they were in our day."

"How's that?"

"Those two bimbos will spend all day teasing and flirting with the lads, just as we used to do; the guys will buy their drinks, snacks and maybe even lunch for them too, then come this evening -- just like we did - they'll blow them out and go off clubbing with that fuckable waiter and the one with the cute bum."

"What! The fuckable waiter with the cute bum will take them both to bed?"

"Sod-off Gillian; I've already told you, the one with the cute bum's only about the third most fuckable." Cue hysterical laughter.

Once we'd recovered our decorum -- and ordered another round of drinks -- it was again Gillian that got the conversation rolling: "You're right of course."

"About the waiter beside the bar being the most fuckable?"

No way! I meant about those lads wasting their time and energy on the two prick-teasers; if they want to get laid, they'd do a lot better by scoping out the sex-starved golf-widows lying around the pool and putting their efforts into pulling one of those."

"Anyone in mind? I suspect that you and I might both be a little too old for their tastes."

"What? They're teenaged boys Jo; they'll screw anything with a pulse and a pussy, just like they always have."

I was again struggling to control my laughter: "I hear you Gill and you're probably right, but as we're the wrong side of forty and those boys are less than half our age, it'd not so much be getting ourselves a toy-boy as cradle-snatching and in case you hadn't noticed... one of them is your own son."

"Of course I'd spotted Harry. I wasn't thinking of opening my legs for him; there are plenty of others to choose from..." Gill tossed me a mischievous grin "...I'll leave Harry for you to fuck; you'll love him Jo, he's got a massive cock, way bigger than his father's."

"God Gillian! You... you.... you're incorrigible, the most shameless old tart I've ever met!." By now we were both again having hysterics, but once we'd recovered I added: "Of course the problem with guys of that age - if you can remember that long ago - is that they're finished in less than a minute; all the mess and no orgasm, it'd hardly be worth the effort."

"True, but what we didn't know back then was that the boys lasted longer second time around and when you get them hard for a third time, Mmmmm they can just go on forever; at that age we won't even have to wait too long for rounds two and three either."

"OK, so you've got around the quick-draw McGraw issue and distracted Harry by dispatching him to my bed, but there's still the age-problem Gill, not one of them is even half your age; it's just... just... disgusting."

"Ah, but age is only a number and being an Accountant, I'm good with those. How about if I were to take two of them to bed with me at once? That way I could add their ages together and get laid without offending your delicate sensibilities; surely that'd be OK." Gill's grin was simply wicked!

"You promiscuous old scrubber, if that's your idea, then why not take three of them to bed with you and pass yourself off as the 'younger woman', or maybe take four, call yourself 'Lolita' and claim that you're jail-bait."

We were all but falling off our sun-beds with laughter and when we'd recovered sufficiently to speak again, we did so together, having both had exactly the same thought at the exact same moment: "If we took three or four into our beds at once, we wouldn't even have to wait while they recovered; they'd be queuing up to take their turn."

Though it was only me who added; "Or maybe even have more than one fucking us at once; that'd make for a night to remember."

It was the arrival of our drinks -- courtesy of the cute bummed waiter; yummy -- that ended our conversation; perhaps for the best, as God knows what embarrassing things we might have said otherwise. Neither of us noticed the two grinning young men who got up from the sun loungers immediately behind us and slunk away.

It was around 1:00pm when Gillian and I left the pool area, having indulged in an extra cocktail in our effort to resolve the waiter-fuckability question, we enjoyed lunch together -- salads and another rum-cocktail - before heading to our respective rooms for siestas; the kids might enjoy the sun, but that afternoon heat was too much for either Gill or I to cope with. I was laid on the bed wearing just my panties and covered by a single sheet -- for modesty rather than comfort -- when I heard the suite's outer door opening; I was already half-asleep so I didn't take much notice, assuming that one of the boys was collecting something.

A few seconds later a cloth -- a coarse fabric, perhaps a towel? -- dropped onto my head and face and a hand clamped over both it and my mouth. I tried to wrench free, but he -- I assumed it was a man -- had grabbed me by the arms. As I struggled harder, realisation dawned; the 'man' had got my arms pinned, my wrists held too, the bed sheet had been torn off me and yet more hands were grabbing at my knees and legs; this was more than one man, far more!

Mumbles and grunts, but no discernible words, I felt hands pulling at my ankle and lashed out with a hard kick; that garnered a yelp of pain, but as I quickly discovered, it'd done more harm than good. Those hands had been trying to part my legs and that kick did the job for them; before I could re-gather myself the bed rocked and I felt someone kneel between my thighs, it was definitely a man, I could feel the hairs on his legs against the inside of my thighs. Soon exhausted by my struggles I fell limp, they had me securely held, I was going nowhere; there had to be at least three of them and with one still gagging my mouth, I couldn't even cry for help.

Still nothing to hear beyond my laboured breathing, but as I relaxed their hands slackened too and then they began 'exploring'. Two went directly to my breasts, tweaking and twisting at the nipples -- what a surprise! - while others slid onto the inside of my thighs; I blocked those at least, though as it required clasping my thighs tightly against the thighs intruding between my own, I perhaps wasn't gaining much?

One hand I couldn't restrain, but neither could I decently ignore it as the fingers traced across my belly, scraped over my mons and hooked beneath the elastic on the right leg of my pants; it drew one more desperate squirm from me, but the effort unsurprisingly, proved futile and garnered a few more laughs from my captors. Then came the first words: "OK, we've all made our bets... and the winner is..." the fingers hooked beneath my pants, jerked the gusset sharply sideways "...A neatly trimmed brunette bush!"

Responses came from all directions, how many of them were there? "Fuck!... But she's a blonde" - "And you're just a dick-head; everybody else could tell that Mrs T's blonde comes from a bottle" - "Aw shit, I was sure that she'd be shaved smooth" - "You mean she is in your wank fantasies." The voices were English and all sounded young; my thoughts returned to the scurrilous conversation which I'd shared with Gillian before lunch and my stomach turned, I knew then who my attackers were likely to be and what they intended.

I was trembling even before the next words reached my ears: "Which as you'll all remember... was my guess... so I get to fuck her first."

The man between my legs moved but was quickly replaced, no doubt by whomever had won their vile lottery. I might perhaps have tried another escape bid during the transition, but it seemed pointless and instead I replayed their coarse conversations in my head: I thought that I'd probably heard four voices and I suspected that the voice of the guy now between my legs belonged to one of Gill's boys, though which one I couldn't tell. Appallingly, my mood was one of equanimity, or at least relief; the relief of knowing that I'd not heard either of my own sons' voices! Though that relief was tempered by my being fairly certain as to where they may be right now and what indeed they might be doing.

I was disturbed from this reverie by my panties being pulled aside once again and this time the fingers intruded further, searching crudely between the soft folds of my vulva. There was a call from somewhere near my head - "Do you need some lubricant?" - as the probing fingers found their goal and they were already penetrating me when I heard the humiliating reply: "Anything but, she's as slick as butter; the old slapper's dripping wet, she must be gagging for it." That towel saved my blushes, as to my shame those invading fingers had slipped all too easily into my my vagina and been welcomed there with an all too audible gasp of pleasure.

That drew a cheer from my assailants, it was still ringing in my ears as the intruding fingers withdrew to be replaced by a stiff, cock, had it not been so fat, I suspect that it too would've slipped into me with ignominious ease, but it was fucking huge! Did that suggest this was Harry who'd mounted me, I recalled Gill implying that Harry was well hung; with a second, third and fourth thrust the man finally drove himself home, spearing deep inside my channel.

The boys were cheering once again and I was no longer being restrained, a further shudder of self-reproach quaked through me; those cheers and my release were their response to the words of approbation and encouragement which I'd been calling out as that cock penetrated me. I pulled the towel away and found myself looking directly into the face of Gill's younger son; as our eyes met Harry stopped mid-stroke, a look of fear in his eyes; it was unnecessary, he'd been right in what he'd said: This old slapper was indeed gagging for it and she growled: "Don't you dare stop now Harry; shag my bloody brains out!"

As alluded in that morning's discussion with Gillian, Harry didn't last very long, though to be fair he did beat my forecast of 'less than a minute'. There'd been another call from the group admonishing Harry to: 'Pull out before you come; if Mrs T's already dripping wet there'll be no traction for the rest of us if you unload in there too'. Hearing that voice got me looking around. Besides Harry, already between my thighs, were his brother Paul and Ben, who'd just spoken with his strong West Midlands accent, another guy of similar age called Tim and a red-headed chap a little older whom I'd seen hanging around with the other boys, but whose name I didn't even know; it wasn't three but four more young men ranged about me awaiting their turn!

Rather than my being frightened or repulsed by the prospect, a further frisson of excitement surged through my loins; I had branded Gill a 'shameless old scrubber' when she'd joked of giving herself to just two men at once, so what did my reaction to the prospect of five say about me? Further consideration of the matter -- perhaps fortunately? - was disrupted by Harry's climax; he did withdraw to ejaculate across my stomach as instructed, though his howitzer-sized prick displayed an equivalent muzzle-velocity too, spraying semen across my breasts and beyond, a droplet even landed on my lips, though it was quickly and discretely licked away.

Next up was Tim -- how had they worked out the subsequent batting-order? - who almost threw Harry to the floor in his eagerness to replace him between my legs. My own climax had begun to build in response to Harry's attentions, so I ground my teeth and almost howled with frustration when Tim also adhered to my 'less than a minute' forecast and he did so in spades; Hell, I doubt that he lasted much beyond ten seconds before spraying his seed across the inside of my thighs!

The poor lad looked crestfallen not helped by the taunts which his friends unleashed; despite the circumstances I couldn't help but allow my maternal instincts to show through - protective and nurturing as always - giving Tim's arm a gentle squeeze as he moved away, I whispered: "Just ignore them, it was lovely and I know that you'll last longer the next time."

As Tim turned disconsolately away, it was obvious that it was the older red-headed chap's turn next; he was the one who finally pulled off and tossed aside my sodden panties, rather than simply squeezing past them. I felt conflicting emotions at his approach which I suspect were due to not even knowing his name? It was slightly scary when he laid hands upon my naked thighs, but in the same moment quite obscenely erotic, knowing that I was about to surrender myself to what was little better than a passing stranger; had I always, albeit unknowingly, been such a filthy slut?

Red -- for want of a better name -- almost casually flipped me over onto my belly, then lifted me up as he growled "On your knees Joanne, it's time you had a real fuck and this is the best way to do that" I wasn't going to argue, I've always loved it doggy style. Red seemed to find and penetrate my pussy more easily than either Harry or Tim had, a little more experienced perhaps? Once ensconced he slipped me a couple of smooth gentle strokes, then slammed his cock deep into my delicate channel, I would've screamed had his intrusion not knocked the breath from my lungs. Red wasn't as well endowed as Harry -- thank God! - but he certainly delivered on the 'real fuck' that he'd promised, pounding into me like there was no tomorrow.

Red had one hand at my hip, the other entwined in my hair, tugging back cruelly, so arching my back and denying me any cushioning from his powerful impalements; he took me harshly, it was a brutal copulation, but in that moment perhaps exactly what I wanted? His narration of our coupling was equally crude and foul-mouthed, but to my disgrace I responded in kind, readily agreeing that my 'slack cunt did want tearing apart', I did 'want every inch of his fat prick inside me' and yes, I was 'just an adulterous slut who wasn't getting enough cock from her old man'. If that weren't bad enough, when someone called for Red to withdraw as the previous two lads had done, I over-ruled their plea with a snarl:

"Don't you fucking dare! Shoot it inside me, fill my cunt with your come!"

As you might expect, it was my demand which Red chose to comply with and moments later he began unloading stream upon stream of viscous semen across my cervix as he bellowed like a bull; though his cries were hardly to be heard, drowned out by my own screams of release at the orgasm which simultaneously ripped through me. In the aftermath the room was all but silent, I think the boys had been shocked by the way in which Red had so savagely used me, but utterly stunned by my equally abandoned response; even Red himself was quiet as he climbed off the bed.

It fell to me to re-energise the situation, staring over at Paul and Ben I seductively enquired: "So who's next?" It was Ben that rather gingerly climbed up behind me, he seemed wary, perhaps even frightened by what he'd just watched? Though I too harboured a degree of fear; I'd never been to bed with a black guy and to my discredit I couldn't help but give credence to the folklore regarding the size of their cocks, I so wish Ben had taken off his shorts and let me see his package before getting onto the bed. It was this concern rather than what had just passed which saw me look back at him over my shoulder and meekly ask: "Please be gentle Ben, nice and slow; not another like the last one, I couldn't handle that again."

Ben's nod and smile seemed to express his own relief and seconds later his cock nuzzled between my labia and slid firmly but tenderly into the depths of my snatch; he was well endowed, but nothing like the monster with which Harry had filled me. With Red's load added to the melange I was now slick both inside and out, that too made things easier as with hands resting lightly on my hips, Ben's deep, steady strokes soon brought me to another shuddering, but altogether more gentle climax.

That easy pace and the lubrication saw Ben far outlast the guys who'd gone before; I lost count of how many orgasms I enjoyed, though it'd be unfair to give him credit for them all. Harry had reappeared at my side, initially just fondling my boobs, but one hand soon tracked south to probe in and around my pussy; at times both his fingers and Ben's cock were inside me together. As I could feel both, surely they could also feel each other too? That kinky dual-penetration seemed so devilishly perverse, that it tripped my switch in an instant.

Each time Harry withdrew his fingers they were awash with a pot-pourri of my own juices and expended semen and this he used to anoint my breasts; even within the shadows beneath me, they glistened exquisitely in their honeyed coating, the nipples sparkling and swelling in response. The next time Harry's hand re-appeared he saw me watching, hesitated for just a moment and then re-directed his fingers toward my lips; there was no hesitation on my part, I engulfed them in the instant, sucking and licking them clean of my own sweet nectar.

That gleaned a reaction -- I'd all but forgotten about the other boys -- an animalistic growl, then repeated wet splashes across my shoulders; oh my God! At least one of those boys had been masturbating and had now ejaculated onto me. Harry smiled, wiped up this fresh emission with his finger tips and offered that too at the alter of my lips; returning his mischievous smile, I promptly cleaned Harry's digits once again.

Harry's expression changed as I mopped his gooey fingers and I'd barely finished before his hand dropped to his again tumescent cock and questioningly proffered that too for my oral attentions -- fuck me, it looked even bigger up close and personal! Once again I didn't hesitate for a moment; with lips spreading wide and my tongue extending like a 'welcome' mat on the doorstep, Harry accepted my lewd invitation and pressed home; Oh My God! I'd actually done it! Two cocks were penetrating me at once!!!