Vacation Park Out of Season Ch. 01

My neck hurt and I felt like I was about to vomit as he tugged on my hair, yanking my head back hard and grunted as he emptied his balls deep in my arse. He let go of my hair, oblivious to my pain. Spent, he pulled out, picked up my ripped panties and wiped the semen and shit from his cock before zipping up his trousers.

He paused briefly and whispered something to my daughter as he left. The first and only time he'd said anything since he'd arrived. I'd been feeling bloated all day and being bent me over and having his thick cock driving into my arse made me feel nauseous. But I also felt proud that she'd seen me used by this man. Me, her mother, relentlessly sodomised in front her by this powerful man. He'd finally chosen us. Chosen me.

Straightening up, my fat belly red where it had rubbed against the back of the chair, I gathered up the dirty rag that had been my panties. Clutching it between my arse cheeks to stop his semen dribbling down my legs. I hobbled as quickly as I could over to my daughter. My leggings still around my ankles.

I winced. My arse hole hurt and I needed to clean myself up. My husband had barely looked up from the TV the whole time but I knew as soon as I left the room he'd be after me to reassert his manhood. He I could tell no, unlike our landlord, the man who had just left. I felt constipated and my arse was off limits. My husband was my master but he'd have to be satisfied with my pussy and my mouth tonight.

"What did he say to you?" I asked.

"That he hoped I fucked as well as my mother," my daughter whispered. Wrinkling her nose at the smell, she looked up for a moment before going back to her phone.

***

I inherited the cabins in Scandinavia from an uncle five years ago. The smaller timber cabins on the lake front are of a prefabricated, Swedish design. Many of them new when my uncle died. Ever the business man, he began adding new beach front properties in 2010.

Further up the hill are the original, purpose built summer homes consisting of traditional wooden stugas and behind them the larger, robust brick and timber houses. The stugas mostly date back to the 1950s and 60s. Whereas the larger summer homes are mostly from the early 1900s when the area was a popular retreat for wealthy industrialists.

That was how my uncle came to have a summer home there. It was acquired by his father in the late 50s and nestles in the scrub pine forest with a view across the lake and is typical of the surrounding properties.

Built in the 1920s, it's a two storey, six bedroom house complete with a large sauna. Behind the house, hidden from view is the modest accommodation that once housed a full-time caretaker, a full-time housekeeper and four additional servants during in the summer months. Finally, 400m down the hill there was a boathouse with a small jetty and a diving board. I've only seen pictures. The boathouse was dismantled in the 1990s.

***

The next time he visited, my daughter and I were just back from our shift at the factory. We both stank of fish. She was in the shower and I was sitting on the corner of my bed in my underwear waiting for her to finish. I was tired and sweaty from doing a double shift and sitting in silence so as not to wake my husband.

The landlord let himself in and I heard him unzip his coat and take off his boots. He came to the door of our bedroom and silently beckoned me to follow him. I expected him to fuck me in the living room but instead he pointed to the door of the tiny bathroom. My thoughts went immediately to my daughter.

My daughter was still in the tiny glass shower cubicle, she'd turned the water off and was just standing there. I doubted she was still a virgin - factory gossip - but at 31 she was still very inexperienced. Her body is leaner than mine with small, firm looking breasts capped with dark areola. Her nipples hard from the cold. I was sure he wanted me to witness him fucking my little girl.

Following me in, he gestured for me to sit on the WC. It was odd sitting there with my panties on. He came and stood in front of me and unzipped his trousers. I thought he was going to fuck my mouth with my naked daughter less than half a meter away. Instead he pushed my feet apart his foot and looking down began to pee. Using me like a urinal. He adjusted his aim so his piss was hitting me in the middle of my chest. Hot piss splashed up under my chin and down all over my once white bra, staining it yellow.

Once he started, didn't look at me once, it was as if I was just furniture. He was focussed on my daughter the whole time. Having finished, he offered me his cock to lick clean so that I had to taste last of his piss. To be used like this in front of my daughter was at the limit of my imagination. I couldn't imagine feeling more humiliated.

He zipped up his trousers, looked me in the eyes and said, "Thank you." A few minutes later we heard the outside door close and he was gone.

My daughter left in silence and I cried silently in the shower, my tears fuelled by a mixture of exhaustion and shame. I stood under the water in my piss stained underwear. Crying as I tried to understand what had just happened. What had I done to make this man so upset with us? With me?

The piss and sweat and the smell of fish I could wash off but I couldn't scrub away my humiliation. It was worse than at any point since we left Iraq.

***

Fortunes and fashions change and my uncle began buying up the surrounding properties in the 1980s as his neighbours sold up. The various servants quarters were converted into self contained rental properties and most of the larger summer homes were converted into mini guest houses.

This part of the country went into economic decline starting in the 1970s and most of the villages up and down the coast slowly became like ghost towns with little work and no prospects for the few people who remained.

The vacation park evolved into something of a pet social experiment for my uncle as he began stepping back from his other businesses in his later years. The boat houses we dismantled to make room for a total of 80 assorted modern, prefabricated Swedish cabins and vacation homes. The final 30 which were installed after his death.

I'm not clear what his original plan was but in 2002 a Spanish company opened an offshore salmon farm and later a fish processing factory a 20 minute drive up the coast. This led to an influx of largely immigrant workers and my uncle began converting the older houses to accommodate them.

As much as possible, he wanted to provide longer term homes for couples or older families. The idea being that he would provide affordable accommodation and assist them with integrating and they would help build and maintain the park.

***

The next time he came, I was alone. It was late afternoon and I was relaxing watching TV. My husband and daughter weren't due back for hours, so I knew it must be him. I panicked and ran to the bathroom. I'd been some humiliated and miserable after his last visit that I wanted to run and hide but I also had a more practical need in mind. I wanted to lube my pussy ready for him. I am going through the menopause and I didn't want the pain and further humiliation of him finding me dry.

I flushed the toilet and walked back to the living room to find him sitting on the sofa. He smiled and patted the seat next to him. I waddled over, feeling old and fat, and sat beside him. The next hour was a surprise.

He cuddled me to him and we watched TV as he gently fondled my breasts. First through my clothes, then his left hand found it's way into my hoodie and began massaging my right breast though my bra. I liked the way his warm hand felt as it rubbed against the lace of my underwired bra. I felt flushed and my nipples hardened but my pussy remained dry.

After he'd finished with my right breast he moved around a little and did the same with my left breast. Tracing little circles around my hard nipple through the cheap material. It felt like an eternity of bliss. My husband uses me sex, there is never any foreplay or tenderness. He slipped the bra straps off my shoulders. First one and then the other, pushing my bra up and letting my soft, fat breasts free.

He lost interest in my breasts for a few minutes whilst his right hand slipped down the back of my legging and inside my panties. His hand roamed over my arse cheeks. I was willing his fingers to reach deeper and find my pussy but they didn't.

Instead, he used his hand to urge me off of the sofa and onto the rug. I did so, kneeling there with my hoodie half open and my bra pushed up. I expected, even wanted, him to unzip his trousers and pull out his cock. But he didn't.

Slipping off of the sofa onto his knees next to me on the rug, he unzipped my hoodie and I self-consciously felt sure my breast must be hanging down to waist. Next, he gently pushed me over so I was on my side. From there he rolled me onto my back and straddled my hips. I could feel the bulge in his trousers. And wondered what was coming next?

I expected him to work my leggings down and fuck me. Or maybe pull them down enough to let him finger me. I didn't expect him to lean forward and start licking and kissing my breasts which were now pancakes on my chest. But that's what he did. My panties should have been damp from my wet pussy but both remained dry.

I felt ugly and old as this powerful man pressed me into the rug. Alternating between my saggy breasts with his tongue. Sometimes using the tip to trace around my erect nipples. Sometimes sucking a nipple into his mouth, smothering it with his lips before squeezing it between his teeth. Other times, twisting my nipples between his fingers before pulling up on them so he could slowly lick the sensitive underside of each breast. All the time, I could feel the bulge of his hard cock pressed against me.

Finally, he rose up on his knees, unzipped his trousers and pulled out his cock; before sitting back on me and beginning to slowly stroke it. His hand moving faster and faster. As I looked into his eyes, I couldn't see beyond his lust. He came with a large spurt that hit the bottom of my left breast. Followed by two further spurts that he directed at my right breast, the second of which left a puddle of semen around my nipple.

I watched as he milked the final drops from his cock and wiped it off with his finger. As he brought that finger towards my face, I opened my mouth assuming he wanted me to lick it clean but instead he smeared it across my bottom lip.

I lay there staring at the ceiling, not knowing what to do. Then I felt him pull my bra back into place. His semen squeezing out through the lace. I gasped in surprise and then without thinking, I licked my lips.

He stood up and zipped up his trousers. Looking down he smiled and offered me his hand. He pulled me up with ease and whispered in my ear, "Thank you." Then he left me standing there. A tired, dried up, 58 year old woman with the taste of his semen on her lips and tears running silently down her face.

***

I was on good terms with my uncle and I'd visited the holiday park the summer after I graduated but it never entered my mind that I might inherit it.

We'd met occasionally over the years at family weddings and lately mostly at family funerals and he'd talked about his social project. So I knew something of his thoughts and feelings. Our politics were similar on the subject of immigration.

When I was told that he'd bequeathed his holiday park to me, I was far from certain that I wanted to inherit it. So I wasn't particularly concerned when one of his nieces announced she was contesting the will. That was until her lawyers began bad mouthing the way my uncle had run the park and his involvement with refugees.

When I started to look into her background, particularly her social media presence, it became clear she was precisely the kind of vapid, self righteous, anti-immigration, pseudo Christian that I detest. That's when I decide to do a number on her. But how?

The idea came to me by accident. Before she contested the will, I'd already decided to stay at the park "incognito" for 10 days to get a feel for it before deciding if I wanted it or not.

The second afternoon I was there, I was relaxing on the deck outside my cabin after a swim when I was propositioned by a woman with an Eastern European accent. I guess a single, male tourist in his early 40s is an easy target. I have no issue with prostitution but I do have a problem with sex trafficking and this woman didn't look like someone on vacation. So I declined her offer.

Over the next week I was propositioned a further four times by three other women. Two with Russian accents and one with an Italian accent whom I'm pretty sure was Romanian. Just like the first woman they looked out of place. Four young, apparently single women with an air of sadness and drug addiction that cannot be covered by even the heaviest makeup.

Not my type, sexually, but it did give me an idea of how to play my distant cousin. It also gave me another idea, one that made my cock harder than it had been since I'd arrived.

***

The next time he visited us, we were sitting down to dinner. He came in as he always did, taking off his boots and coat before walking into the living room. My husband and I were facing the door and my daughter had her back to him.

He pause behind her and looked at my husband opposite before pulling her chair slowly away from the table. My heart was in my mouth. Was he about to fuck our daughter, our only remaining child, right here in front of us? Any doubt I had was dispelled when he put a condom and a small tin of lube on the table next to her.

She was trembling as she stood up and there was a look of fear on her face. He ran his hands up under her sweater and fondled her breasts, then leaning against her back he gently pushed her down until she was bent over the chair with her hands flat on the table.

Pausing, he looked at me, then at my husband who was staring down at his plate and said, "Please, keep eating." There was a commanding tone to his voice and as much as I didn't want too, I nonetheless picked up my fork and continued with dinner.

He unbuckled his trousers and let them fall to the floor. His cock looked huge. Far too big for my baby girl. Hooking his thumbs inside the waist band of her sweat pants, he slowly slid his hands over her hips and down her legs dropping to his knees as he did. He stayed there a moment apparently blowing gently on her pussy. Whatever he did, it made her squirm. Reaching up, he slowly pulled down her panties until they were just above her knees.

Standing again, he rested his left hand on her shoulder and began rubbing her pussy with his right hand. Her face was flushed with embarrassment but her body was also clearly enjoying the attention. When he was ready, he made a show of holding up his two sticky fingers, sniffing them and licking them clean like a lollipop.

He ripped open a condom and slowly rolled it down his cock. Then positioning himself between her legs, he gently guided it into her pussy. Holding her loosely around her waist he began fucking her with long, slow thrusts. Pulling back so that only the tip of his cock was still inside before pushing forward until his balls rubbed against her.

After a dozen or so thrusts he leaned forward and whispered something in her ear. My daughter shook her head. He whispered something else and then resumed the same slow pace. I couldn't hear what he said to her but the next time he was all the way in she gave a little bark like a small dog.

As he sped up, his thrusts got harder and her barks became louder. He was hammering into her and the barks were becoming yelps accompanied by the slapping of his flesh against her arse. His grip around her waist tighter, his finger digging into her soft flesh.

Letting go of her waist, he grabbed her wrists and pulled her arms up behind her. The left side of her face clattered, momentarily, into her half empty dinner plate before he yanked back on her arms; pulling her further on to his cock until she was almost upright. Bits of rice stuck to her hair and face. She was looking down on her father, less than a metre away across the table, squealing as she was fucked, hard.

With a grunt, he stopped, his chest heaving as he pulled her back. His cock deep inside her as he emptied his balls; before letting her fall back onto the table.

Pulling off his condom, he tied a knot in it before pulling up his trousers. The front of his hair was matted in sweat. He picked up the used condom, and looked around for a bin. He dropped it in the kitchen bin, stopped, turned around and said, "Thank you." Before putting his boots on, zipping up his coat and leaving.

My husband pushed his way past me and grabbing a knife from the kitchen, ran out into the night.

***

I generally shun social media. The limited, low key presence I do have, I pay someone else too curate. My dislike of it doesn't mean that I won't exploit it to the full for my own ends. The more someone uses Facebook and Twitter, etc to inflate their importance, the easier it becomes to burst their particular bubble.

My distant cousin is a junior councillor in a provincial city and there is always someone waiting for a politician to trip up.

First, I anonymously made it known that she would be inheriting her uncle's business. Naturally I also had my lawyers put out a statement challenging her inheritance and also complaining to her lawyers. That and our uncle's good name were enough for the local newspapers to pick up the story and give it an air of legitimacy.

Like all politicians, she was thirsty for the publicity and happily allowed herself to be quoted in a follow up article. Those kind of articles don't pay well and freelance journalist who wrote it was content to pocket some extra cash to big up my uncle and the history of the area as a vacation destination. The journalist thought the money came from my cousin's political party. But ultimately the it came from me.

The final part was easy. Scandinavia is generally conservative, even the quirky fashionistas in Denmark. So getting the local god-botherers worked up at the thought of the park being used for prostitution was easy. No money required.

They duly "enquired", satisfying themselves that the park awash with prostitutes and all manner terrible things. They then made a big fuss and within a few days the police and local officials were in contact with my cousin, as heir to the business. Sleaze sells and the press were soon asking uncomfortable questions about a conservative politician and a business she owns being used for prostitution.

Wisely, my cousin didn't try to deny the existence of prostitutes. Instead she denied owning the business and her lawyers withdrew the challenge to me inheriting the it. Money well spent.

***

My daughter was still on the floor sobbing with me trying to comfort her when my husband stumbled back into the house with a bloody nose. Our landlord was two steps behind him holding the kitchen knife. He kicked my husband, who fell and lay sprawled motionless on the floor whilst the younger man removed his coat and boots.

This done, he grabbed my husband by the hair and dragged him into the living room and left him there on his knees. He gently lifted my sobbing daughter to her feet and guided her towards the sofa. Gesturing me to join her.

Returning to my husband, he pushed him forward with his foot and made the older man crawl the short distance to the sofa. There he pulled him back up by his hair and into a kneeling position. I was shocked. My husband. My master. The man who had sold us into sexual slavery. On his knees, beaten and bloody.

The landlord, sat on the arm of the sofa next to me for a couple of minutes, clearly agitated. My husband had obviously challenged him and lost and now I was scared what might happen.