My mum's holiday
I usually phone my mum about once a week to see how she is. On this occasion I was quite nervous, considering what had happened between us the previous weekend (see stories: My Mum's Birthday, and parts 2 & 3). I thought she might be quite stand-offish, or even blame me for taking advantage of her when she was so drunk. But to my relief she seemed quite her normal self, and didn't even mention what had gone on over her birthday. Either she can't remember, or she's too embarrassed, I thought, or maybe she's decided to accept the fact that our relationship had fundamentally changed.
Anyway, when I phoned her again the following week, I felt confident enough to try something more ambitious. I knew she hadn't had a proper holiday since my dad had left her, so after we had chatted for a while I asked her if she would like to go on holiday, all expenses paid. Oh crumbs, she said, I don't know; who's paying anyway? I'm going to take you, I said, it'll do you good, you'll love it; plenty of Sun, Sea and Sangria. I didn't say the other S word, but I knew the mention of Sangria would get her attention. Well, it would be nice, mum said; when were you thinking of going? I've seen a good deal leaving in a couple of weeks, I replied, do you think you could get the time off work? (she works on the checkout in a supermarket). Well, I'll certainly try, she said, I'm owed a few days anyway. I'll let you know. She was really beginning to sound quite excited by the idea, and I thought: I've got her hooked! I'll wait to hear, then, I said.
I didn't have long to wait. She phoned back the very next day to say that she was coming. That's brilliant, I said, I'll get it booked straight away. Where is it anyway, she asked, but I said I'll keep you guessing, but I can guarantee it will be warm and sunny. Lovely, she said, I must sort out some clothes. All you'll need is a few bikinis and some skimpy dresses, I said. Oh, and can you pack your shiny leggings and your one-piece swimsuit. Ok, she said.
On the appointed day I had arranged to pick her up at 10 o'clock. She opened the door to me and I nearly choked. She had bought a new outfit for the holiday. It consisted of a pair of unfeasibly brief shiny white hot-pants, which were cut high at the rear so that half of her bottom cheeks were hanging out, and cut low – below her belly button – at the front, so that her tummy bulged out over the top of them. There was no disguising the fact that she had put on a bit of weight. It was also noticeable that the thin material was outlining a bit of a cameltoe, which could mean only one thing: she had shaved herself! She was also wearing a brief basque-style t-shirt, which looked to be a couple of sizes too small, and her bosom was ballooning out of it to an alarming degree. Needless to say, she wasn't wearing a bra. How do I look? She asked me. Didn't they have a bigger size of top in stock, I said, laughing. She giggled for a moment, but then frowned, and said: You don't think that I look like mutton dressed up as lamb, do you? Well, that's exactly what you look like, I thought, but what I said was: You look terrific, I think it's great when a more mature woman has the confidence to dress in a sexy way. She looked pleased and gave me a little kiss.
She was travelling light, her only luggage was a holdall and a handbag. We got into the car and set off. She looked so amazing I could hardly keep my eyes on the road, and I knew I was going to have an erection all day just looking at her. I had allowed time to stop off on the way to the airport, as I thought mum would be wanting a drink or two. But I also knew I was going to have to be a bit careful; there would be more time for drinks at the airport, and I didn't want mum to get too drunk, or they might prevent us getting on the plane. I didn't tell her I'd planned a drink stop, but as I expected, she'd had the same thought, and presently she said: Have we got time to stop off on the way, I'd love a drink. Oh, I should think so, if the traffic's OK, I said.
So when we'd got nearer to the airport, I pulled in at a roadside pub. The bored looking barman immediately perked up when he saw mum, and as the pub was very quiet, he was able to give her his almost undivided attention. He kept coming over to talk to us whenever he had the chance, so that he could have a closer look. Mum was onto her third pint of lager within the hour. I supposed she must feel a bit self conscious in her revealing outfit, and needed some Dutch Courage. I was about to say that we really must be going, when she handed the barman her empty glass and asked for another. Steady on, I said, we really ought to be going, but mum said, with a pout: Just a quick one, I'm just getting into the holiday mood. The barman was already pouring her pint by then, and said with a leer: you're getting me in the mood as well, and mum giggled.
She knocked back her fourth pint, and we got in the car for the last part of the journey. We parked at the airport and got the courtesy bus to Departures. Once in the departure hall, mum was looking around and asked if I knew where the toilets were; not surprisingly with 4 pints inside her. But I said: there's a bit of a queue at the check-in desk, I really think we should get the formalities over with first, we don't want to miss the flight. (In fact, we had plenty of time, but mum didn't know that.) Somewhat reluctantly she said: Oh, all right then, and we joined the snake. As we shuffled forward, it was very clear that those around us couldn't help giving mum a second and a third look, the women as well as well as the men. You could see them registering first her bulging boobs, then her exposed belly, and the more observant studied her cameltoe as well. Those with a rear view were ogling the hemispheres of her bottom. By the time we reached the head of the queue about 20 minutes later, mum was starting to fidget quite badly, and I knew her bladder must be getting very full.
Once we'd checked in we went straight through to the security scanners. Mum went first and was taken to one side by a female security officer who seemed to be talking to her for a long time. I went over and said: is anything the matter? Is this your mother the officer said, and I said: No, she's my girlfriend. (I had decided to adopt this pretence for the purposes of the holiday.) Both mum and the security officer looked a bit surprised, but the officer said: Your girlfriend answers the description of someone we suspect of being a d**g courier, I need to do a body search. Don't worry, it won't be too invasive. Mum looked rather alarmed, but we had no choice, and the officer led us to a small cubicle and locked the door.
Her manner was quite brusque. She told mum to remove her top. It was so tight, I couldn't imagine how the officer thought anything could be concealed within it, but mum did as she was told, and her full breasts sprang out, . Ok, said the officer, having a good look at them. Now remove your shorts. Mum slithered out of them and put them on the table with her top. The security officer went right up close to her and inserted an exploratory finger in her vagina, whilst firmly cupping an arse cheek with her other hand. She seemed to be taking much longer than necessary over this, and mum was starting to let out little moans. This is really weird, I thought. You seem to be enjoying this, the officer said to mum, and I could see she now had 3 fingers inside her. She must have been using them very expertly, because mum was getting flushed and her breathing was becoming faster. After a few minutes, the officer must have moved her attention to mum's clit, for mum started gasping and was soon trying unsuccessfully to stifle a huge orgasm.
What the security officer hadn't bargained for, though, was the fact that mum had an extremely full bladder, and as she came, she let out great spurts of piss, soaking the lower part of the officer's uniform, and forming a huge puddle on the floor. The security officer backed away, looking shocked and surprised, as well she might. You better put your clothes back on, was all she said. I could see that mum was trying not to laugh. Mum squeezed back into her clothes, the officer unlocked the door and we went out. As soon as we had shut the door behind us we both started laughing uncontrollably. Eventually I managed to say: I think you've had your first lesbian experience of the holiday. Well, she certainly knew what she was doing, mum said approvingly.
Well I guess you don't need to use the loo for the moment, I said, so we should have time to go and get a bite to eat. Ok, mum said, and we made our way to one of the airport pubs. As we walked around, mums boobs, chubby belly and bottom were wobbling in the most inviting way, and all the men we passed couldn't take their eyes off them. I knew mum was aware of this, but she showed no sign of being embarrassed by it. Mum ordered her food, the barman taking far longer than he needed to put the order through,and then he asked her what she wanted to drink. Without hesitation, and to my alarm, she said: a bottle of white wine please. I ordered my food and drink, and as we waited, mum drank steadily from the bottle of wine. As we ate, the tell-tale shine of inebriation began to appear in mum's eyes. When we had finished I said that it was time to go through to our boarding gate, and as we stood up it was evident that mum was already unsteady on her feet.
We had a look at the departure screen, and I saw to my horror that our flight was delayed. I knew that mum would want to carry on drinking while we were waiting, but I was worried that she had had enough already. Anyway, I gave her the news, and she said: that's good, we can have another drink. So reluctantly I allowed her to take me to another bar, where she ordered a pint of lager. I'm sure she had chosen this bar because there was a group of young men in it, and she was now drunk enough to be flaunting herself. Sure enough, the lads made no secret of their interest in her, and mum stood in front of me facing them so they could get a good view. To give them a good show I couldn't resist ******* her bottom and fondling her soft belly Mum's bladder must have been refilling rapidly, as she was starting to jiggle up and down, making her exposed boobflesh wobble tantalisingly. I also pressed my fingers against the base of her belly where her bladder was, making her squirm even more.
The departure screen continued to show Delayed. Mum finished her pint, and asked me to get her another. I said: I really think you should stop, mum, if you're too drunk they won't allow you on the flight. I'll be all right, she protested, and one of the lads came over and said: I'll buy you a pint then, which he did. This gave the others an excuse to move in. Unfortunately, the lads had heard me calling her mum. Are you really his mum, one asked, and mum giggled by way of reply. I wish I had a mum like that, said another, and yet another said: Are you sharing a room then? Mum turned and looked questioningly at me, and I nodded. One lad s****ered: well, I hope you're very happy together, it's good to keep it in the family, and the others all laughed. They continued to ask indiscrete questions about our sleeping arrangements, but mum was too drunk to be offended and once again was revelling in all the attention.
She was squirming with the effort of containing her bladder quite openly now, and I was getting more and more concerned about the rate at which she was drinking. As soon as she had finished the lager another lad put a pint glass in her hand. My heart sank. God, I'm going to be so pissed, mum said with satisfaction. At last a gate number appeared on the screen. We'll have to go, I said. Mum poured the rest of the beer down her throat and said goodbye to the lads, and with my arm firmly round her waist, she staggered out of the bar. I think you'd better use the loo I told her, it may be a while before you get another chance. She did so, and we made our unsteady way down the travolators for what seemed like miles to the departure gate. I was dreading the next bit. Mum was swaying and giggling as we went up to the desk to have our boarding cards inspected, but to my immense relief the stewardess made no comment.
The waiting area was crowded, with only a few seats vacant. I sat down on one and placed mum on my lap. You're a very naughty girl, I told her. I know she said, and laughed. We kissed and I started fondling her boobs through her t-shirt, gently squeezing the yielding flesh. We were in full view of the other passengers, and somebody said: Get a room! But fortunately, most of those near us were in their teens or twenties, and instead of being offended they just viewed it as an entertaining diversion. Mum sighed contentedly as I continued to caress her and our kissing became more hungry. We carried on in this way as we waited, but there was no move to board the plane, just an occasional apology for the delay. Although mum had had a pee, there was no way she could have expelled anything approaching the quantity of liquid she had already consumed, and that was now over an hour ago. So I pressed down again with my hand on her lower belly against her bladder, and sure enough, she moaned a little and said: I really need the toilet again. That's what comes of having so much to drink, I scolded, now you're going to have to wait until we're on the plane. Oh God, she said, I hope we board soon, I can't hang on much longer.
At last, they were ready to board the plane, and we all made our way through the connecting corridor. Fortunately, there were no steps to negotiate, as mum was having a lot of trouble just walking. We found our row, I took the window seat, and mum sat in the middle one of the three. I passed her seatbelt over the bulge of her belly, which now looked even bigger, and buckled her in. I tightened the belt over her full bladder, which made her wince. To pass the time we started snogging again. I was feeling her up, and manoeuvred my hand inside her t-shirt to give her boobs a good grope and tweak her nipples. After a while we became aware of someone getting into the aisle seat next to mum, and we hurriedly broke off. It was a ruggedly handsome guy in his twenties, well built, with a what looked like a wrestler's body confined within his white vest. But what really had mum's attention was his black lycra cycling shorts, which didn't hide the fact that he was well endowed. It was really quite comical: mum staring hungrily at his body, and him staring with equal fascination at all the mature flesh on display.
I'm Pete, he said eventually. Oh, I'm Paula, and this is my son, mum said without thinking. You're his mum? he asked incredulously. Er, well, yes, mum stammered, realising her mistake. Well, you two certainly seem to have a good relationship, he said with a smirk. At this point one of the stewardesses came down the aisle checking seat belts etc. Mum leaned over Pete and said: Is there a toilet I could use. Not until we're airborne and the seat belt signs are switched off the stewardess replied. But I'm bursting, mum pleaded. Then you'll just have to cross your legs, said the stewardess. Mum looked around helplessly for a moment, and then slumped back in her seat. The cabin crew now did the usual safety brief, as the plane pushed back and taxied towards the runway.
The plane took off, and as it climbed into the clouds and banked round to set course for the Med, mum kept her eyes anxiously on the seat belt sign. As soon as it went out she was out of her seat, pushing past Pete, and stumbling as fast as she could up the aisle to the toilets, holding onto the seat backs for support, but several people had got there ahead of her. So the whole plane was treated to the sight of mum doing a frantic pee-dance in her skimpy outfit. There was an older gentleman next in front of her in the queue; you could tell that he thought he really shouldn't be looking, but he stood transfixed by the sight of mum's boobs bouncing up and down, threatening to escape from her top at any moment. When his turn came, he took pity on mum, saying: I think your need is greater than mine. Mum gave him a big smacker on his lips, and more or less fell into the toilet cubicle. After some minutes she reappeared, and proceeded to walk slowly, if rather unsteadily, back down the aisle, obviously conscious of the many eyes upon her, and posing like a model on the catwalk.
Once mum was back in her seat, Pete started talking to her, asking where we were staying etc, though it must have been difficult for him to understand her slurred responses. All the while mum was staring at his wedding tackle, and I knew she was plucking up the courage to have a feel of it. Presently, the drinks trolley made its way down the aisle. Pete ordered a can of beer, and mum ordered the same plus a bottle of wine. My heart sank. Of course, they are only half bottles on the plane, but on top of all the alcohol she had already consumed I was wondering how on earth we were going to get her off the plane. Mum soon finished the beer, and started on the wine. You're a big boy, aren't you, mum said as she cupped her hand round Pete's genitals. He looked a bit taken aback, but didn't stop her, so mum started gently stroking up and down the shaft clearly outlined in his shorts. You'd better go easy there, Pete cautioned, I'm saving that for later. I bet you are, mum replied, I wonder who the lucky lady is. Pete just smiled, and gently removed mum's hand. It was obvious mum was extremely turned on by him, and wanted his cock up her cunt, but I doubted if Pete felt quite the same way. After all, with his looks and physique he could have his pick of many younger, fitter and prettier women. Anyway, Mum carried on flirting outrageously with him as she drank her wine, leaving him in no doubt that she was very much available.
It was not a long flight, to my relief the drinks trolley didn't reappear, and before too long the captain was asking people to return to their seats and fasten belts in preparation for landing. There was the usual pointless rush to get off the plane, and Pete waited until the press of bodies up the aisle had eased before moving. Mum had considerable trouble getting out of her seat, and I helped support her as we followed Pete to the exit. No corridor connection this time, it was a long flight of steps down to the tarmac and a waiting bus. There's no way mum's going to get down there in one piece, I thought, but Pete was already on the case. He turned around, lifted her effortlessly, despite her weight, and carried her down the steps, as mum squealed in delight. I thanked Pete profusely as I helped her onto the bus. There were no seats left, and as soon as the bus moved, mum fell over into the lap of a young lad sitting behind her. The lad didn't object, so there she stayed until the bus deposited us by the Arrivals Hall.
We made our way through Passport Control and onto Baggage Reclaim. Mum said she needed a pee, but I was not at all sure she could stand unaided, so I went with her into a disabled toilet. I put my hand between her legs to feel the blast of hot liquid as she emptied her bladder, and I was about to insert a finger, when I heard someone trying the door handle. Damn! I thought, we'd better get out of here. So I hauled mum to her feet, pulled her hot pants back up and helped her to the door. The old lady in a wheelchair waiting outside gave us a filthy look, but I ignored her and steered mum to a seat whilst I got the luggage off the carousel.
But now I had a real problem. There was no way I was going to be able to carry the luggage, and support mum, to get to our transfer coach. Once again, Pete came to our rescue. All he had was a large backpack, so he supported mum whilst I carried our luggage out to the coach park. He carried her up the steps onto the coach and right to the back, where five seats went across the width of the vehicle. Pete sat himself in the corner, with mum next to him, and I occupied the middle seat of the five. Nobody else sat in the rear two rows, and mum was soon having a really good feel of Pete's body, pushing his vest up and pawing his chest. Pete responded by pulling mum's top down so that her boobs burst into full view. By now it was getting dark, and as the bus pulled away the saloon lights were dimmed. Pete now eased his shorts down, releasing his erect penis, but before mum could grab hold of it, he hoisted her up by the waist, pulled down her hot pants, and sat her down onto his waiting cock. Mum must have been really wet, because despite its size, his cock sank up to the hilt in one easy motion, and mum let out a huge sigh of pleasure. Pete could afford to take his time, the sensation of that huge cock filling her cunt was stimulation enough for mum, as Pete fondled and squeezed her boobs. When he eventually did start to thrust more urgently, mum lay back against him gasping, with her chest arched out, boobs bouncing with abandon, and eyes bulging. Suddenly, with a huge cry she started convulsing in the throes of a massive orgasm. Although pop music was playing on the coach's p.a., those sitting towards the rear clearly heard mum's cry, and looked around in alarm, but mum and Pete carried on quite oblivious. Some people looked shocked and turned away in disgust, but a young couple stood wide-eyed on their seats to get a better view, and two lads who didn't look more than 18 came right to the back of the bus, watching in disbelief.
Mum's orgasm seemed to go on and on, but then Pete gave vent to a prolonged roar as he came inside her. They slumped back, breathing hard, bodies glistening with sweat. Mum looked as though she was about to pass out. The two lads just stood there, still watching intently. Pete looked around, suddenly becoming aware of his surroundings again, and told the lads to scram. He lifted mum up off his still erect penis, with difficulty hoisted her hot pants up and placed her back in her seat. He then did his best to repackage mum's boobs back inside her basque top, but it was like trying to get a quart into a pint pot! Pete was staying in the same resort as us, but at a different hotel, and it was now time for him to get off. Thank you for a lovely ride, he said to mum, have a great holiday, I'm sure you will. He gave her a brief kiss, but mum only seemed semi-conscious.
The coach arrived at our hotel, I just about managed to get mum off the coach and into the lobby to check in, without her falling over. I tipped a porter to take our luggage up to the room, and we went up in the lift. I knew mum must be bursting for a pee again by now, so once in the bedroom I took her straight into the shower room and peeled off her hot pants. By luck, there was a plastic chair in there, so I sat her on it, and buried my head between her legs. But before I had a chance to start licking I almost drowned in a great flood of pee, which soaked me from head to toe. When the deluge had finished, I pulled her top off and turned the shower on us both. I then towelled her off as best I could, and half carried her onto the bed. To stop her getting dehydrated, I managed to get her to drink a glass of water, then she flopped back on the bed and closed her eyes.
(to be continued)
Anyway, when I phoned her again the following week, I felt confident enough to try something more ambitious. I knew she hadn't had a proper holiday since my dad had left her, so after we had chatted for a while I asked her if she would like to go on holiday, all expenses paid. Oh crumbs, she said, I don't know; who's paying anyway? I'm going to take you, I said, it'll do you good, you'll love it; plenty of Sun, Sea and Sangria. I didn't say the other S word, but I knew the mention of Sangria would get her attention. Well, it would be nice, mum said; when were you thinking of going? I've seen a good deal leaving in a couple of weeks, I replied, do you think you could get the time off work? (she works on the checkout in a supermarket). Well, I'll certainly try, she said, I'm owed a few days anyway. I'll let you know. She was really beginning to sound quite excited by the idea, and I thought: I've got her hooked! I'll wait to hear, then, I said.
I didn't have long to wait. She phoned back the very next day to say that she was coming. That's brilliant, I said, I'll get it booked straight away. Where is it anyway, she asked, but I said I'll keep you guessing, but I can guarantee it will be warm and sunny. Lovely, she said, I must sort out some clothes. All you'll need is a few bikinis and some skimpy dresses, I said. Oh, and can you pack your shiny leggings and your one-piece swimsuit. Ok, she said.
On the appointed day I had arranged to pick her up at 10 o'clock. She opened the door to me and I nearly choked. She had bought a new outfit for the holiday. It consisted of a pair of unfeasibly brief shiny white hot-pants, which were cut high at the rear so that half of her bottom cheeks were hanging out, and cut low – below her belly button – at the front, so that her tummy bulged out over the top of them. There was no disguising the fact that she had put on a bit of weight. It was also noticeable that the thin material was outlining a bit of a cameltoe, which could mean only one thing: she had shaved herself! She was also wearing a brief basque-style t-shirt, which looked to be a couple of sizes too small, and her bosom was ballooning out of it to an alarming degree. Needless to say, she wasn't wearing a bra. How do I look? She asked me. Didn't they have a bigger size of top in stock, I said, laughing. She giggled for a moment, but then frowned, and said: You don't think that I look like mutton dressed up as lamb, do you? Well, that's exactly what you look like, I thought, but what I said was: You look terrific, I think it's great when a more mature woman has the confidence to dress in a sexy way. She looked pleased and gave me a little kiss.
She was travelling light, her only luggage was a holdall and a handbag. We got into the car and set off. She looked so amazing I could hardly keep my eyes on the road, and I knew I was going to have an erection all day just looking at her. I had allowed time to stop off on the way to the airport, as I thought mum would be wanting a drink or two. But I also knew I was going to have to be a bit careful; there would be more time for drinks at the airport, and I didn't want mum to get too drunk, or they might prevent us getting on the plane. I didn't tell her I'd planned a drink stop, but as I expected, she'd had the same thought, and presently she said: Have we got time to stop off on the way, I'd love a drink. Oh, I should think so, if the traffic's OK, I said.
So when we'd got nearer to the airport, I pulled in at a roadside pub. The bored looking barman immediately perked up when he saw mum, and as the pub was very quiet, he was able to give her his almost undivided attention. He kept coming over to talk to us whenever he had the chance, so that he could have a closer look. Mum was onto her third pint of lager within the hour. I supposed she must feel a bit self conscious in her revealing outfit, and needed some Dutch Courage. I was about to say that we really must be going, when she handed the barman her empty glass and asked for another. Steady on, I said, we really ought to be going, but mum said, with a pout: Just a quick one, I'm just getting into the holiday mood. The barman was already pouring her pint by then, and said with a leer: you're getting me in the mood as well, and mum giggled.
She knocked back her fourth pint, and we got in the car for the last part of the journey. We parked at the airport and got the courtesy bus to Departures. Once in the departure hall, mum was looking around and asked if I knew where the toilets were; not surprisingly with 4 pints inside her. But I said: there's a bit of a queue at the check-in desk, I really think we should get the formalities over with first, we don't want to miss the flight. (In fact, we had plenty of time, but mum didn't know that.) Somewhat reluctantly she said: Oh, all right then, and we joined the snake. As we shuffled forward, it was very clear that those around us couldn't help giving mum a second and a third look, the women as well as well as the men. You could see them registering first her bulging boobs, then her exposed belly, and the more observant studied her cameltoe as well. Those with a rear view were ogling the hemispheres of her bottom. By the time we reached the head of the queue about 20 minutes later, mum was starting to fidget quite badly, and I knew her bladder must be getting very full.
Once we'd checked in we went straight through to the security scanners. Mum went first and was taken to one side by a female security officer who seemed to be talking to her for a long time. I went over and said: is anything the matter? Is this your mother the officer said, and I said: No, she's my girlfriend. (I had decided to adopt this pretence for the purposes of the holiday.) Both mum and the security officer looked a bit surprised, but the officer said: Your girlfriend answers the description of someone we suspect of being a d**g courier, I need to do a body search. Don't worry, it won't be too invasive. Mum looked rather alarmed, but we had no choice, and the officer led us to a small cubicle and locked the door.
Her manner was quite brusque. She told mum to remove her top. It was so tight, I couldn't imagine how the officer thought anything could be concealed within it, but mum did as she was told, and her full breasts sprang out, . Ok, said the officer, having a good look at them. Now remove your shorts. Mum slithered out of them and put them on the table with her top. The security officer went right up close to her and inserted an exploratory finger in her vagina, whilst firmly cupping an arse cheek with her other hand. She seemed to be taking much longer than necessary over this, and mum was starting to let out little moans. This is really weird, I thought. You seem to be enjoying this, the officer said to mum, and I could see she now had 3 fingers inside her. She must have been using them very expertly, because mum was getting flushed and her breathing was becoming faster. After a few minutes, the officer must have moved her attention to mum's clit, for mum started gasping and was soon trying unsuccessfully to stifle a huge orgasm.
What the security officer hadn't bargained for, though, was the fact that mum had an extremely full bladder, and as she came, she let out great spurts of piss, soaking the lower part of the officer's uniform, and forming a huge puddle on the floor. The security officer backed away, looking shocked and surprised, as well she might. You better put your clothes back on, was all she said. I could see that mum was trying not to laugh. Mum squeezed back into her clothes, the officer unlocked the door and we went out. As soon as we had shut the door behind us we both started laughing uncontrollably. Eventually I managed to say: I think you've had your first lesbian experience of the holiday. Well, she certainly knew what she was doing, mum said approvingly.
Well I guess you don't need to use the loo for the moment, I said, so we should have time to go and get a bite to eat. Ok, mum said, and we made our way to one of the airport pubs. As we walked around, mums boobs, chubby belly and bottom were wobbling in the most inviting way, and all the men we passed couldn't take their eyes off them. I knew mum was aware of this, but she showed no sign of being embarrassed by it. Mum ordered her food, the barman taking far longer than he needed to put the order through,and then he asked her what she wanted to drink. Without hesitation, and to my alarm, she said: a bottle of white wine please. I ordered my food and drink, and as we waited, mum drank steadily from the bottle of wine. As we ate, the tell-tale shine of inebriation began to appear in mum's eyes. When we had finished I said that it was time to go through to our boarding gate, and as we stood up it was evident that mum was already unsteady on her feet.
We had a look at the departure screen, and I saw to my horror that our flight was delayed. I knew that mum would want to carry on drinking while we were waiting, but I was worried that she had had enough already. Anyway, I gave her the news, and she said: that's good, we can have another drink. So reluctantly I allowed her to take me to another bar, where she ordered a pint of lager. I'm sure she had chosen this bar because there was a group of young men in it, and she was now drunk enough to be flaunting herself. Sure enough, the lads made no secret of their interest in her, and mum stood in front of me facing them so they could get a good view. To give them a good show I couldn't resist ******* her bottom and fondling her soft belly Mum's bladder must have been refilling rapidly, as she was starting to jiggle up and down, making her exposed boobflesh wobble tantalisingly. I also pressed my fingers against the base of her belly where her bladder was, making her squirm even more.
The departure screen continued to show Delayed. Mum finished her pint, and asked me to get her another. I said: I really think you should stop, mum, if you're too drunk they won't allow you on the flight. I'll be all right, she protested, and one of the lads came over and said: I'll buy you a pint then, which he did. This gave the others an excuse to move in. Unfortunately, the lads had heard me calling her mum. Are you really his mum, one asked, and mum giggled by way of reply. I wish I had a mum like that, said another, and yet another said: Are you sharing a room then? Mum turned and looked questioningly at me, and I nodded. One lad s****ered: well, I hope you're very happy together, it's good to keep it in the family, and the others all laughed. They continued to ask indiscrete questions about our sleeping arrangements, but mum was too drunk to be offended and once again was revelling in all the attention.
She was squirming with the effort of containing her bladder quite openly now, and I was getting more and more concerned about the rate at which she was drinking. As soon as she had finished the lager another lad put a pint glass in her hand. My heart sank. God, I'm going to be so pissed, mum said with satisfaction. At last a gate number appeared on the screen. We'll have to go, I said. Mum poured the rest of the beer down her throat and said goodbye to the lads, and with my arm firmly round her waist, she staggered out of the bar. I think you'd better use the loo I told her, it may be a while before you get another chance. She did so, and we made our unsteady way down the travolators for what seemed like miles to the departure gate. I was dreading the next bit. Mum was swaying and giggling as we went up to the desk to have our boarding cards inspected, but to my immense relief the stewardess made no comment.
The waiting area was crowded, with only a few seats vacant. I sat down on one and placed mum on my lap. You're a very naughty girl, I told her. I know she said, and laughed. We kissed and I started fondling her boobs through her t-shirt, gently squeezing the yielding flesh. We were in full view of the other passengers, and somebody said: Get a room! But fortunately, most of those near us were in their teens or twenties, and instead of being offended they just viewed it as an entertaining diversion. Mum sighed contentedly as I continued to caress her and our kissing became more hungry. We carried on in this way as we waited, but there was no move to board the plane, just an occasional apology for the delay. Although mum had had a pee, there was no way she could have expelled anything approaching the quantity of liquid she had already consumed, and that was now over an hour ago. So I pressed down again with my hand on her lower belly against her bladder, and sure enough, she moaned a little and said: I really need the toilet again. That's what comes of having so much to drink, I scolded, now you're going to have to wait until we're on the plane. Oh God, she said, I hope we board soon, I can't hang on much longer.
At last, they were ready to board the plane, and we all made our way through the connecting corridor. Fortunately, there were no steps to negotiate, as mum was having a lot of trouble just walking. We found our row, I took the window seat, and mum sat in the middle one of the three. I passed her seatbelt over the bulge of her belly, which now looked even bigger, and buckled her in. I tightened the belt over her full bladder, which made her wince. To pass the time we started snogging again. I was feeling her up, and manoeuvred my hand inside her t-shirt to give her boobs a good grope and tweak her nipples. After a while we became aware of someone getting into the aisle seat next to mum, and we hurriedly broke off. It was a ruggedly handsome guy in his twenties, well built, with a what looked like a wrestler's body confined within his white vest. But what really had mum's attention was his black lycra cycling shorts, which didn't hide the fact that he was well endowed. It was really quite comical: mum staring hungrily at his body, and him staring with equal fascination at all the mature flesh on display.
I'm Pete, he said eventually. Oh, I'm Paula, and this is my son, mum said without thinking. You're his mum? he asked incredulously. Er, well, yes, mum stammered, realising her mistake. Well, you two certainly seem to have a good relationship, he said with a smirk. At this point one of the stewardesses came down the aisle checking seat belts etc. Mum leaned over Pete and said: Is there a toilet I could use. Not until we're airborne and the seat belt signs are switched off the stewardess replied. But I'm bursting, mum pleaded. Then you'll just have to cross your legs, said the stewardess. Mum looked around helplessly for a moment, and then slumped back in her seat. The cabin crew now did the usual safety brief, as the plane pushed back and taxied towards the runway.
The plane took off, and as it climbed into the clouds and banked round to set course for the Med, mum kept her eyes anxiously on the seat belt sign. As soon as it went out she was out of her seat, pushing past Pete, and stumbling as fast as she could up the aisle to the toilets, holding onto the seat backs for support, but several people had got there ahead of her. So the whole plane was treated to the sight of mum doing a frantic pee-dance in her skimpy outfit. There was an older gentleman next in front of her in the queue; you could tell that he thought he really shouldn't be looking, but he stood transfixed by the sight of mum's boobs bouncing up and down, threatening to escape from her top at any moment. When his turn came, he took pity on mum, saying: I think your need is greater than mine. Mum gave him a big smacker on his lips, and more or less fell into the toilet cubicle. After some minutes she reappeared, and proceeded to walk slowly, if rather unsteadily, back down the aisle, obviously conscious of the many eyes upon her, and posing like a model on the catwalk.
Once mum was back in her seat, Pete started talking to her, asking where we were staying etc, though it must have been difficult for him to understand her slurred responses. All the while mum was staring at his wedding tackle, and I knew she was plucking up the courage to have a feel of it. Presently, the drinks trolley made its way down the aisle. Pete ordered a can of beer, and mum ordered the same plus a bottle of wine. My heart sank. Of course, they are only half bottles on the plane, but on top of all the alcohol she had already consumed I was wondering how on earth we were going to get her off the plane. Mum soon finished the beer, and started on the wine. You're a big boy, aren't you, mum said as she cupped her hand round Pete's genitals. He looked a bit taken aback, but didn't stop her, so mum started gently stroking up and down the shaft clearly outlined in his shorts. You'd better go easy there, Pete cautioned, I'm saving that for later. I bet you are, mum replied, I wonder who the lucky lady is. Pete just smiled, and gently removed mum's hand. It was obvious mum was extremely turned on by him, and wanted his cock up her cunt, but I doubted if Pete felt quite the same way. After all, with his looks and physique he could have his pick of many younger, fitter and prettier women. Anyway, Mum carried on flirting outrageously with him as she drank her wine, leaving him in no doubt that she was very much available.
It was not a long flight, to my relief the drinks trolley didn't reappear, and before too long the captain was asking people to return to their seats and fasten belts in preparation for landing. There was the usual pointless rush to get off the plane, and Pete waited until the press of bodies up the aisle had eased before moving. Mum had considerable trouble getting out of her seat, and I helped support her as we followed Pete to the exit. No corridor connection this time, it was a long flight of steps down to the tarmac and a waiting bus. There's no way mum's going to get down there in one piece, I thought, but Pete was already on the case. He turned around, lifted her effortlessly, despite her weight, and carried her down the steps, as mum squealed in delight. I thanked Pete profusely as I helped her onto the bus. There were no seats left, and as soon as the bus moved, mum fell over into the lap of a young lad sitting behind her. The lad didn't object, so there she stayed until the bus deposited us by the Arrivals Hall.
We made our way through Passport Control and onto Baggage Reclaim. Mum said she needed a pee, but I was not at all sure she could stand unaided, so I went with her into a disabled toilet. I put my hand between her legs to feel the blast of hot liquid as she emptied her bladder, and I was about to insert a finger, when I heard someone trying the door handle. Damn! I thought, we'd better get out of here. So I hauled mum to her feet, pulled her hot pants back up and helped her to the door. The old lady in a wheelchair waiting outside gave us a filthy look, but I ignored her and steered mum to a seat whilst I got the luggage off the carousel.
But now I had a real problem. There was no way I was going to be able to carry the luggage, and support mum, to get to our transfer coach. Once again, Pete came to our rescue. All he had was a large backpack, so he supported mum whilst I carried our luggage out to the coach park. He carried her up the steps onto the coach and right to the back, where five seats went across the width of the vehicle. Pete sat himself in the corner, with mum next to him, and I occupied the middle seat of the five. Nobody else sat in the rear two rows, and mum was soon having a really good feel of Pete's body, pushing his vest up and pawing his chest. Pete responded by pulling mum's top down so that her boobs burst into full view. By now it was getting dark, and as the bus pulled away the saloon lights were dimmed. Pete now eased his shorts down, releasing his erect penis, but before mum could grab hold of it, he hoisted her up by the waist, pulled down her hot pants, and sat her down onto his waiting cock. Mum must have been really wet, because despite its size, his cock sank up to the hilt in one easy motion, and mum let out a huge sigh of pleasure. Pete could afford to take his time, the sensation of that huge cock filling her cunt was stimulation enough for mum, as Pete fondled and squeezed her boobs. When he eventually did start to thrust more urgently, mum lay back against him gasping, with her chest arched out, boobs bouncing with abandon, and eyes bulging. Suddenly, with a huge cry she started convulsing in the throes of a massive orgasm. Although pop music was playing on the coach's p.a., those sitting towards the rear clearly heard mum's cry, and looked around in alarm, but mum and Pete carried on quite oblivious. Some people looked shocked and turned away in disgust, but a young couple stood wide-eyed on their seats to get a better view, and two lads who didn't look more than 18 came right to the back of the bus, watching in disbelief.
Mum's orgasm seemed to go on and on, but then Pete gave vent to a prolonged roar as he came inside her. They slumped back, breathing hard, bodies glistening with sweat. Mum looked as though she was about to pass out. The two lads just stood there, still watching intently. Pete looked around, suddenly becoming aware of his surroundings again, and told the lads to scram. He lifted mum up off his still erect penis, with difficulty hoisted her hot pants up and placed her back in her seat. He then did his best to repackage mum's boobs back inside her basque top, but it was like trying to get a quart into a pint pot! Pete was staying in the same resort as us, but at a different hotel, and it was now time for him to get off. Thank you for a lovely ride, he said to mum, have a great holiday, I'm sure you will. He gave her a brief kiss, but mum only seemed semi-conscious.
The coach arrived at our hotel, I just about managed to get mum off the coach and into the lobby to check in, without her falling over. I tipped a porter to take our luggage up to the room, and we went up in the lift. I knew mum must be bursting for a pee again by now, so once in the bedroom I took her straight into the shower room and peeled off her hot pants. By luck, there was a plastic chair in there, so I sat her on it, and buried my head between her legs. But before I had a chance to start licking I almost drowned in a great flood of pee, which soaked me from head to toe. When the deluge had finished, I pulled her top off and turned the shower on us both. I then towelled her off as best I could, and half carried her onto the bed. To stop her getting dehydrated, I managed to get her to drink a glass of water, then she flopped back on the bed and closed her eyes.
(to be continued)
12年前
