Editor's note: This is a fictional short story involving adults. This is a story for adults involving adults. All characters are aged 18 and above.
Kim
A guest house goes out of its way to please its clientele..... while on trip with her son, a mother asks of a specific request that will further a 'bond.'
Prologue
Finding a "niche in the market" is the holy grail of everyone running their own business - to establish a position which offers a unique or, at least, seldom-offered service. It promises the possibility of "cornering" customers into repeat orders and ensuring some security for the business into the future.
Of course, should this activity cross into grey areas from the angle of respectability... a diplomatic, discreet touch is essential...
*************************
Joanne fidgeted next to her son on the back seat of the taxi. This was mainly out of discomfort - they had by now been travelling for many hours - but also partly out of her irritation caused by the hire car fiasco. The company, situated with great convenience right next to Oxford Station, had been able to offer no explanation as to why her order had not come through on the system... at even greater inconvenience. Brandishing their emailed booking confirmation at the vacant-eyed counter staff had done little other than to prompt vague promises of delivering a vehicle later to the B&B where she and Max would be staying. It was not as if she did not already have enough on her mind - a questioning, nagging discomfort about what lay behind this whole trip.
She was... on edge...
Heading westwards at first out of the city along the A40, after half an hour the cab cut northwards along narrow, winding roads into the idyllic, rolling country of the Cotswolds. Gradually, the peaceful, olde-worlde scenery of alternating woods, pasture and honey-coloured stone cottages began to soothe the eye. Calming down slowly, Joanne realised how much she needed this break both for herself and Max. The sheer sameness and tedium of life at home had grown overwhelming.
She and her husband - a "second-time-round" thing for her - had been gradually growing apart as it became increasingly clear with the passing years that early promise was never going to be fulfilled. He was a middle-aged nonentity concerned only, when he wasn't immersing himself in his birdwatching, with having a quiet time at home. Max, her son from the first marriage, had never accepted him as a real "dad". Max's interests in sport were also a world away from his stepfather's. His was more an aggressively go-for-it nature, intolerant of dithering and shades of grey. They barely spoke with each other.
Going through Max's mind at that moment were thoughts of how different this part of England seemed from the bleak fells of the north. Gazing out of the cab, his eyes took in the cosy, "chocolate box" scenery of the quaint villages and patchwork-field farms. It was all somehow warmer and more intimate in scale than what he was used to... more "human". Not that he was actually much accustomed to the countryside in any case. Living as the family did in suburban Gateshead, over two hundred miles north of here, it was normally an outlook of bricks, concrete and glass that would meet his gaze. He felt drawn to this as a land of childhood fairy-tale possibilities: ghosts and goblins, knights and princesses, dark woods with owls, toadstools and pixies. He felt something calling to him here. His teenage mind wrestled between these images and the more grown-up world which he had been inhabiting these last school years... athletics, football and physical exertion.
Urged on by his teachers, he had found a whole new field in which he was excelling and which his maturing body took to readily. It was proving the making of him, having before scarcely excelled with books and learning. His pride on being named the Year football captain still glowed inside... even if, at home, it was only Mum who took an interest. She readily forgave him his lack of intellect and quick thinking, hugely pleased that he was making his mark. His "father" had barely grunted from in front of his laptop.
His Mum, yes... now, what was that image of her he had been toying with in his head..?
Joanne, managing finally to relax, glanced to one side at Max and smiled, happy to have him to herself for a few days. She was perhaps starting to turn this whole thing into a positive. So bad had things grown at home that, on one occasion, she had warned her husband that one more driving off to 'twitch' some godforsaken bird would mean that he would come back to an empty house... that she and Max would take some time off on a trip of their own. The alienation she now felt towards him was almost complete. He was a non-person with an ineffectual personality and offered about as much of a father 'role model' as one of his precious rare birds. What on Earth had she ever seen in him? Only now was she beginning to realise the rebound situation she had been in at the time.
She had compensated, over the last couple of years, with an ever greater interest in her son and his doings... and that interest had gradually grown into something else. She felt she was the only person able to give Max protection against the tide of potential risks, as she saw them, which came with puberty, adolescence and peer pressure at school. The world just expected people to grow up too fast these days. That was fine in its way but a guiding hand was needed to steer a boy in the right direction - and he was turning into a real young man now... with his body stretching and filling out nicely. Not just his body... but he was developing in character now, too, forming good, strong views on things. It was, as she saw it, her duty to make sure that both his mind and that body behaved in the right way. Yes, he was noticeably taller now, more so than even just a few months back...
... almost as tall as she was herself. He was beginning to feature in her dreams... as she was in his.
Predictably, despite the showdown with her husband, very little by way of any change in his attitude occurred. When it was announced at short notice that the Orkneys were to be visited "to tick a Snowy Owl", she had said nothing and simply waved a cheery farewell, secure in the knowledge that she had already given due warning. It was the Easter holidays and time away from school for Max was not an issue... and she had already done the necessary research. Her years of experience in her profession as a programmer gave her all the skills she needed to access the trove of information available only on the "dark web". It simply remained for "Pinehurst" to have accommodation at similar short notice... which it did... and which immediately resulted in a firm booking.
She took another glance at her son, his hand massaging his genitals from inside a pocket. The mere thought of it made Joanne flush and for fear of him noticing she had to look away, ostensibly at the countryside rushing past, and force her thighs tightly together. For his part, Max thought himself safely unobserved in the way that youngsters often do... ineptly... but what he was doing was not news to Joanne. She did the family washing. She had noticed the semen stains...
*************************
'Yes, yes... no problem from the thirteenth to the eighteenth but we're fully booked after that, I'm afraid.'
Sonia listened to the next question intently as the line was a little crackly.
'No, absolutely... you can come and go as you please but I do need access for cleaning and bed making between eleven and midday...
... Well, you've done very well to find us. You've got the right place! You must have done your res... oh, from whom, if I may ask..? No, no, of course we always appreciate discretion... that's absolutely fine. The only thing is: I have to ask for payment in advance, particularly for our special service... yes indeed, if you're ready, I'll just take the long card number.
Sonia took down the details and processed the payment, her mind half on the impending weekend visit of her son. It had been so long - nearly two months now - since Graham's last stay. She had been thrilled at his call a few minutes back and her thoughts were now a-flutter. She would have to set the place straight - the private part of "Pinehurst", that is - over the next day or so.
'Well, that's great, Mr Tiler. Your payment has gone through... Could I have your email address..? Is that all one word? Lovely. I'll email you a receipt along with the other details. And if you could also email me back with details of the problem you mentioned..? It'll help me work out how we can prepare things for you. Good. Always nice to meet new guests, so I look forward to seeing you, your wife, Gary and Hayley on Sunday... yes... yes... of course... you, too... bye now.'
She replaced the receiver, sighing. Yet more guests with obvious, unresolved problems, she thought. Was it sheer fecklessness or was there something about the modern world which made life hard for people in family relationships..? Nobody could accuse Sonia herself of being lacking in resolve when it came to dealing with things. Anyone, from her closest friends to the bureaucrats at the local Council Planning Department, could give you chapter and verse on how formidable a customer she was. She was indeed strong-willed herself and thought everyone should be likewise. She thought back to the days when Frank was still alive. How she had thrilled to his no-nonsense, we'll-do-it-this-way attitude. A strong woman needs a strong man... and vice-versa. Taken from her so early. So cruelly...
Life was cruel in that regard; you had to fight it. Look at "Pinehurst" now... all right in its way, especially with Graham's ongoing and expert maintenance of it... but it was meant to be a family home, big though it was... a family home ringing to the sound of happy laughter and blessed with family occasions... and not the boarding house persona which had been forced upon her through distinctly unhappy circumstance.
Sighing again, she caught sight of herself in the mirror above the phone table. Hmm... not bad for forty-nine... She focussed her thoughts on happier matters as she brushed her still dark and well-tended hair to each side of her face with her right hand, turning to one side and pushing her shoulders back. A nice bust line still, she thought, staring sideways at the mirror. A nice bust line...
She was lost in consideration of the necessary tidying ahead of Graham's arrival when the doorbell sounded stridently, cutting across matters.
A couple stood framed in the doorway - a woman whom Sonia judged to be in her mid to late thirties, slightly overdressed for travelling but otherwise of very pleasant appearance and with an abundance of curly, dark auburn hair and a teenage boy with the same colour hair, dressed in black denim jeans and a black and white striped, "Newcastle United" football shirt top. He shuffled his feet awkwardly. Suitcases stood at their side.
At Sonia's questioning look, the woman introduced herself.
'Joanne Hicks. We spoke on the phone last night..? We've booked for tonight and Saturday. This is my son, Max.' The soft Newcastle accent was plain to hear.
'Oh yes, of course. I'm Sonia Turnbull... come on in... if you'd just like to follow me upstairs..?' She led the way up a wide, carpeted staircase to an upper hallway which had a few doors leading off and an assortment of potted plants on low tables, landscape pictures adorning the walls.
'This is your room, Max,' she said, opening one of the doors and then offering the key to the boy, and turning to Joanne, 'I don't recall if you told me where you're from... have you had a long drive?'
Joanne explained that they had travelled by train and recounted the saga of the missing hire car.
'I'm afraid that particular firm has something of a "reputation" ', Sonia sighed, 'Our guests have had issues with them before. Hopefully they'll get the car to you before long! Anyway, maybe Max would like to freshen up after such a long journey - your room has a great shower room attached, Max - and meanwhile we can attend to final business downstairs. This next room is yours.'
'Yes, go and take a shower, darling,' said Joanne, tousling his hair to his great annoyance and then, turning to place her own case inside the indicated door, followed Sonia back down to the entrance hall.
'Now then', said the landlady in a semi-whisper as she closed the lounge door behind them, 'you've booked my "special service" and of course I must do whatever I can to help you. So far, all I've done is to place a few adult magazines in his room where I hope he'll find them. That should... er... help things along. Obviously I can give no guarantees of success but I understand completely your need to have Max in your room and for this to happen as naturally as possible, yes? What happens after that is yours to arrange. Discretion is actually the main part of the service I offer - I ask no questions and pay no heed, for example, to whatever sounds may come from your room...
At the mention of this, Joanne could feel her face flushing and she squirmed a little - but Sonia continued quite unconcernedly.
'... so be aware of that and also that I'll be happy to see you back here at any time in future if you need this kind of discreet setting again. One thing I would point to is the camera coverage I've had installed here. I have webcams placed discreetly in many locations in the rooms. These are at your disposal as part of the service and we can take digital footage as required. Er... shall we see how Max is getting on..?'
Joanne looked slightly mystified until Sonia ushered her over to a PC and keyboard set up on the lounge sideboard next to what Joanne took to be pictures of her family. After a few moments of key tapping the screen lit up with a full colour panorama of Max's room. There was no sign of the boy but the sound of running water could be heard distantly over the speaker. Sonia tapped another few keys... and the scene flickered then switched to the interior of a shower room.
'Actually, it's a rather large wet room,' said Sonia, 'The extra space is good generally but specifically it helps the camera lenses not to steam over while the shower's running!'
Max was plainly visible, pink and naked, as he lathered himself with gel.
'Oh yes - I can definitely see why you're here. Very nice... and how old is he, if you don't mind my asking..?'
Joanne, flustered again, held up fingers to indicate.
As if she sensed the other's slight unease, Sonia placed comforting arms about her.
'Look, m'dear... I can assure you totally that every mother feels what you're feeling now at some stage... every single one. There's nothing remotely "unnatural" about it. It's just that most don't get this far, stopped by different things. I blame churches and religion over the ages, personally. I've had many ladies in your position here before and I'm sure there'll be many more after you." She sighed again, as if feeling a weight of personal burden.
'Anyway, as I say, the cameras are there for you to use. You simply use the laptop in your room and key in the code eight, four, two, one to have access to views in his room. Easy to remember. I've already set that up on your machine. There's also a laptop in his room but of course he won't have the code.'
'On the phone you mentioned something about... er... recording..?' Joanne, whilst still embarrassed, could still think clearly.
'Ah, yes... thanks for reminding me... quite important. Now, we're hoping for results here, yes? You may like a small memento of the occasion... something to keep the chill away on winter nights! In all the rooms we have full coverage of the main bed... that's from above but also from the two sides and the wall opposite. If you activate the system, the cameras will film in sequence, switching at thirty second intervals... you know, one after the other... and produce a continuous recording from all of those angles. The system is triggered by pressing a small button next to your main room light switch... like this one here. It will continue for twelve hours - but you'll be setting some kind of record if you need that much flash drive space!'
'That seems very thorough... y... yes, I think I would like that... if it's possible...'
'No, problem at all, m'dear... it's just for that small, extra charge I mentioned over the phone. All I'd ask is that you leave at least one of the bedside lamps on to give a bit of light... and remember... what you're feeling is the most natural thing in the world. No reason whatsoever to be ashamed. Now, tonight you'll be too tired, yes? But perhaps tomorrow night..? Leave it completely to me; we'll ease him into your room. There's a guest bed there... which hopefully he won't occupy for long!' She ended with a giggle.
'So I'm serving dinner in half an hour - here's a menu - if you want to eat here tonight. Oh, look,' she said, pointing through the window to the front driveway, '... wouldn't that be your rented car arriving?'
She turned back to the PC where Max was still visible on the screen, very nakedly luxuriating in the shower, to switch off the device.
'I'll let you have a think about that. I'll be having other guests arriving shortly and I know they'll be wanting their dinner here.'
*************************
Max was just finishing dressing when his mother's knock came on his door ten minutes later. He was slightly flushed after having caught sight of some magazines with lurid covers under his bed. He thought he might take a peek at those later when he was in bed at night - obviously something left by a previous guest and not noticed by the landlady. His eyes shone brightly and this was noticed straight away by Joanne when he opened the door. Max felt her stare and he squirmed with his little, guilty secret.
There was a short debate about whether to drive out in search of a restaurant or take dinner at the B&B. Joanne had just done the minimum of unpacking and applied a few touches of cosmetic and, given her elevated state of hunger, would have preferred the latter. But she was happy to indulge Max in the minor thrill of "eating out", something of which he had little experience and, after all, this was supposed to be a treat for the both of them. She went to find Sonia to explain and then the two excurted, crossing by the open dining room door as they passed down the hallway. Joanne caught sight of an exceedingly pretty young girl, maybe in her mid to late teens, sitting and sipping at a first course soup. She had thick, lustrous black hair, beyond shoulder length. The man sitting opposite her at the same table, the object of her smiles, only presented his back but he gave the impression of being powerfully-built, slightly balding on top.
She ushered Max on, not pausing, through the front door and out to the rented car. Hunger filled her belly and she tried to ignore the pangs as she tried to remember the fairly vague directions supplied by Sonia.
*************************
'Oh... God...'
Joanne could not stop the moaned expletive and had difficulty keeping the laptop stable on her bed as she lay there, watching the scene on the screen: her son in his own bed, clutching a magazine and masturbating. As his hand pumped up and down, her own fingers kept time with it, skating down through her luxuriantly dense pubic curls and between her partly open thighs. Oh God... this is wonderful... and already worth the supplement for the "special service", she considered. If nothing other than this happened, it would still have been worth it. She caught sight occasionally of the head of Max's penis, watched his lithe and hairless, gently muscled body as he strained for his orgasm, and took in the look of semi-pain overtaking his face as he reached his threshold. All of this brought her to hers - and her hips bucked convulsively as the tremors spread out from her groin, just as Max's prepared tissues received their intended load.
Just wonderful... she closed the laptop and lay back in bed, her breathing returning slowly to normal. Distantly, she remembered the first time she had experienced these feelings for her son, some several weeks back now when she had by chance seen him undressing for bed through a door left carelessly ajar. That moment when he had finally removed his underpants and turned sideways on... God... All right, yes, hubby had been a lost cause physically for nearly two years now. No sex worth the name ever happened. That had certainly played into the equation... but it was more than that. Max was her son, fine, and she was supposed not to feel any such thing... but the simple sight of his penis and testicles... such superior, young maleness... had gone directly to some deep and dark place within her and flipped a switch. It was that moment exactly which had worked the magic and changed things forever. She could no more suppress this urge now than she could stop breathing. It was branded into her, indelible.
She fell into a warm and satisfied, deep and dreamless slumber.
*************************
Max finished his dessert with huge relish. What a fantastic meal to conclude the second day of the break! He had never had a real, restaurant-cooked steak before and this had been delicious. Now this great rum-and-raisin ice cream for dessert... This time Joanne had picked out a quiet, roadside gastro-pub, miles from anywhere and it had paid off. The food here was really good whereas yesterday the meal had been poorly prepared and the service none too rapid - one of those places which made you wait deliberately in the hope you would order further drinks. Still, it had been in one of the tourist-trap villages and that was the risk you ran. In any case, they had been very hungry and anything would have done.
Max sipped at the remains of his cider as he finished savouring the lingering, sweet flavours. Most of his attention whenever the conversation ebbed however was focussed directly ahead of him - at the cleavage of which Joanne had allowed an extra "buttonsworth" to be on display. She herself feigned innocent ignorance of the state of affairs but she could easily catch the boy's frequent glances in that direction... he had not really mastered the art of dissembling as yet. The thoughts going through his head were little more than a torrent of lustful images of his mother, fuelled by what he had been looking at in the magazines the night before. He adjusted his trousers with difficulty, trying his best to conceal his erection which came and went in accordance with these varying images.
Joanne finished her own meal with satisfaction, not just because of the quality of the food but also because generally the day had been excellent. At breakfast they had made the acquaintance of the other couple currently staying at "Pinehurst". The girl's name, it turned out, was Louise and was staying for a long weekend here with her father, Drew - come even further than them, all the way from Aberdeen. Joanne had taken an instant shine to Drew, a handsome, well-set man in his late forties with a dazzling smile.
Today's tour of the Cotswolds had taken in some of the principle attractions like Bourton-on-the-Water, Stow-on-the-Wold, as well as visits to see the Roman mosaics in Cirencester and the regency architecture of Cheltenham. A varied, mixed bag with 'a bit of everything', including quite good weather. They had paused for lunch, snacks and ice creams and Max had even enjoyed some of the more quirky offerings such as motor museums and 'model villages'. Yes, Joanna thought, a lot of driving but an enjoyable day... and maybe the prospect of yet more to come..?
'How about a nice coffee to finish off..?' she queried, leaning forward to increase by another half inch her son's view of her breasts. Max had only been allowed coffees for the last year.
'Oh... yes. Please order but I just have to visit the loo.' Max was flustered to the point of embarrassment, rising from his chair and turning rapidly away from his mother so as to conceal the bulge in his trousers from her gaze. Joanne was taken aback a little and wondered in alarm whether she had over-egged matters - the last thing she wanted was for him to go and masturbate away in the privacy of the toilets. Shrugging in helplessness, she motioned over a waitress and ordered. Looking at her watch, she saw that, other things apart, she had timed things fairly well: ten fifteen. The drive back to "Pinehurst" would mean bedtime fairly soon after that. She could only hope for the best. The coffees arrived quickly while Max was still absent... and this too lent itself to her plans. Reaching into her handbag she found the little paper twist given her by Sonia that morning after breakfast. Speedily she emptied the powder into Max's cup and gave it a brief swirl, smiling to herself and hoping... hoping...
Max was not masturbating, in point of fact, but actually just trying to urinate - something quite difficult to do with a swollen member. He had no intention of spoiling his enjoyment in the privacy of his bed later on tonight, in the company of those magazines... but he could predict now, he knew very well, that the enjoyment would be accompanied by thoughts of his mother in the next room, just as it had many times since learning this new and enjoyable skill. Gradually and with enforced thinking about his football club and exploits on the right wing, the swelling slowly abated and he was able to discharge his bladder contents. Washing his hands afterwards, he thought idly for a moment about that girl in his class - Melanie - whom he had admired ever since starting secondary school. Not that he had made much by way of advances but she had shown no interest in him at all and was now apparently going out with a boy two years older. He remembered how this had hurt him initially but how now it seemed so... unimportant. She had simply faded completely from his consideration. She was a lanky girl, a stick insect, no meat on her bones, no... cleavage...
*************************
'Yes, I'm dreadfully sorry. There's not much to be done about it. The plumber's already been and made a temporary fix but the room's out of action till next week,' Sonia sighed, hamming it up, 'It's Health and Safety, I'm afraid - they'd close me down if I allowed a guest to use the room. Even after a permanent repair there will be a few days of running fans and dehumidifiers. We're now full tonight and I haven't another room free. As I say, I can either offer you a refund and you can find another guest house or young Max can make use of the corner single bed in your room,' she said, looking directly and knowingly at Joanne, 'Obviously, I'll give you a reduction on the final bill to take account of the... inconvenience. For the moment, I've transferred all of Max's things to your room anyway. Luckily none of them have got wet. Would you like to take some time to think about it..?'
Sonia had met them in the entrance hall with the news of a leaking pipe and wet floor. Max, having been reassured that it was nothing to do with his occupancy of the room, nevertheless still looked totally crestfallen, his hopes of a quiet night alone with the girly magazines disappearing fast. And now it looked like he would have to actually be a good, good boy in genuine quietness, falling asleep like a robot in the corner of Mum's room. No way even to work up some nice, pre-sleep imaginings. Mum would hear. It was odd, the way he was having trouble at the moment stopping his penis from becoming aroused whenever the mere thought of those magazines - or of his own mother, for that matter - went through his head. It was therefore with a degree of unexpressed gratitude that he took her offered room key and preceded her up the stairs to her room.
'I'll follow you up in just a minute, darling,' came her call after him. She looked at Sonia in a questioning, semi-pleading way, as if imploring help. The landlady leaned toward her confidingly.
'He'll not find the bed much to his liking, m'dear,' she said in low tones, 'I've put a very thin mattress on it and placed a bar underneath on the springing so that there's an upward hump in the middle. With a bit of luck you'll be able to entice him away. Did you use the viagra?'
'Yes,' came the semi-whispered reply, 'He was already... er... excited... during dinner so what this will do I've no idea.'
'Hopefully a lot of good for the pair of you!' came Sonia's rejoinder, 'Now then, off to bed with you and good luck! Remember the cameras... and what I said about putting on a good splash of perfume just before bed - young lads go for it, big time.'
On her way up the stairs, Joanne heard the front door opening and, looking back, saw Drew and his daughter coming in from their day's outing. She gave a cheery wave, receiving the same in return.
*************************
Max was scarcely enjoying this. He fidgeted on the narrow guest bed next to the side wall as his mother breathed regularly in a semi-snore over on the main bed. Apparently she had found it easy to sleep but there was no way he himself could drop off in these circumstances. His plans for a magazine rendezvous had been scuppered and he dared not give himself any 'relief' for fear of waking her. The tiny, narrow bed was proving amazingly uncomfortable and he just knew it would be a sleepless night ahead. On top of it all he felt himself to be in a continual torrent of sexual arousal - for some reason, his erection refused to go away and, without the magazines, his thoughts returned ever and again to the woman sleeping three yards away.
Images of those breasts being flaunted before him returned once more. Some time ago, when he had been out on a training run, he had caught sight of a woman relieving herself behind a hedge. She was distant but his eyesight was good. For the first time in his young life he had seen the dark triangle paraded openly and it had excited him tremendously. He wondered whether his mother's patch was the same. From there it was a simple step to imagining his own penis invading that little forest... and his hand promptly closed around it... not for the first time. He was unable to help himself. He turned over towards the wall to allow less sound to escape.
Joanne's feigned sleep was conducted at the same time as she strained to hear Max's movements over in the guest bed. She could tell he was finding it uncomfortable. Really, what was needed was to judge her moment correctly. Despite this she was in an agony of indecision. Despite Sonia's reassurances, she felt this somehow to be a taboo situation and it made her uneasy. She had been through it all in her mind before, many times. Always she had arrived at the conclusion that the taboo was a strictly artificial, man-imposed convention which took no regard of individual feelings or circumstances. Even so, now she hesitated. She had come this far and yet she hesitated. She was on the cusp. Which way to go..?
Her mind was made up by the dull thumping of what she took to be her son's hand pumping away again, as she had seen it via the laptop the previous evening. It was a slight sound, muffled by bed coverings... but unmistakable. If she did not act now, her chance would be gone. As quietly as she could, she rose from her bed and, in her flimsy night dress, padded in bare feet across to the door. She pressed the small, insignificant button next to the light switch and then returned to her bedside to activate the bedside table light. At this, Max ceased his movements abruptly, jerked away suddenly from the lustful images of his mother... and realising something was happening.
'Sweetheart,' crooned Joanne, leaning over her son attentively in the half light, 'I know that you're very uncomfortable there - I can hear you tossing and turning. It's a really rotten bed. Come away from there now and share mine - there's loads of space and it's lovely and soft. You'll sleep much better.'
Taken out of his stride by the turn of events but happy to get away from the almost Spartan experience of the guest bed, Max allowed himself to be ushered to the unused side of his mother's king-size divan. He felt odd now actually being in the scenario which had filled many of his steamier imaginings over the last several months. To begin with, he was mainly just happy to be away from the intolerable bumpiness of his former situation and to be between cool, welcoming sheets - but he realised fully the taboo trappings of what was happening and this gave rise to disquiet, heightened all the more when, after a bare few minutes, he felt his mother snuggle up to his back behind him and her arm snake under his to come and rub his chest and stomach through his pyjama top...
Joanne was going for broke. A fever was upon her to consummate the many dreams which had filled her nights over several months now.
She had to have him. Never mind the business about "mother and son". She was going to demand the awakening of the male in him to address the female in her. Demand it. She would stand for nothing less. She wanted a male with firmness in every respect. No dithering.
Leaning forward over his shoulder, she whispered in his ear.
'Darling, it's all right... just let Mum cuddle you... and help you...'
Slowly, with one hand she parted the front of her own nightdress and then pressed herself up close to that adorable, lanky back, ensuring that her fiercely erect nipples could be felt against Max's shoulder blades. With the other, she unbuttoned his pyjama top and then pushed lower down, inside his pyjama trousers, to cup his genitals. She was not surprised to find his member already stiffly erect...
*************************
'That's it, darling... now try to... slant in... from each side in... turn...'
Joanne could only speak in ragged bursts, her breathing becoming more tense, rapid and uneven. She looked up at the straining face of her young lover, her legs fully encircling that proud, lithe, young body as Max tried to comply with her wish.
Nightdress and pyjamas were now strewn on the floor next to the bed. Joanne's cheeks were reddened through effort but also through slaps; her breasts bore the marks of bites delivered, all of this half wilfully and half fully at her instructions... she was, having engineered the situation, only partly in control of it. At the back of her mind at some deeper level she was proud of the way Max was becoming a man - his own man - with her and through her. Asserting himself over her... as she needed him to do. She needed to own him but she also needed him to take full possession of her. The lovers were bathed both in sweat and in a dim, orange half-light from the side lamp as they lost themselves in the ancient movements and rhythm.
Max could feel the tightness of his mother's passage, brought on through such infrequent use. Her cunt enveloped his cock in a warm, wet clasp. He was in a paradise of self-indulgence, never having thought for one moment that his dreams could actually ever come true like this. He grunted with the effort of fulfilling his need, feeling for the first time a female below him receiving his thrusts... and revelling in it. The sight of her legs parted and inviting him, the feel of her curly pubic patch mingling with his, her breasts dancing before him in response to his movements... all of these went directly to that same dark hinterland of his young brain.
Joanne was losing any sense of control over matters as her new lover took command of her. A point was reached where she willingly ceded the effort needed to keep this control in favour of abandoning herself to her senses and striving for her orgasm. If she had kept any degree of conscious consideration in operation she would have been amazed at her son's "staying power"... but instead she just "went for it", making adjustments to her position and glancing down to see how his member was plunging into her, all in an effort to instigate that initial tickle. It would not come... it would not... until there was a moment where a brand-new actor entered the equation. Suddenly the sheer illicitness of all this hit her bluntly and with full force. This was wrong. This was her son. She was his mother. She was a married woman. She was miring herself by this one act in both deep, wilful infidelity and sheer, carnal incest... and the wrongness spoke to her, spoke loudly and irresistibly... and, very far from acting as a brake, actually provided that extra impetus which set her off firmly towards the edge.
She mewed. And mewed again.
Feeling this new factor at play - his mother's mouth opening wide as a look of infinite transport came over her flushed, perspiring features and a bucking of her pelvis which met his thrusts with their own, insistent ferocity - Max knew his goal was in sight and this, in turn, spurred his own tipping point. Like Joanne, he abandoned himself to it and was very soon engulfed in that same uncontrollable, spasmodic, jerking release which he had discovered to his delight over the last several months in the privacy of his room. This time though, his sperm spurted in long sticky streams to coat not some piece of tissue paper but the interior of his own mother's vagina - and he uttered a short, ragged but triumphal cry to mark the moment, the head of his member nodding repeatedly in loosing off his last remaining drops.
'Oh... ahh..! Oh... OOHH!!' Joanne tried in vain to stifle her wail as the shuddering glow went through her. She bit into her son's shoulder and gouged her nails along his young back, unable to resist the carnal urges of that same moment. She arched her back upwards as the height of it hit home and then slowly, inch by inch, slumped back to the bed, her hips still bucking spasmodically beyond her control. Bathed in sweat, the two lovers lay there, Joanne finally allowing her legs to loose their grip on her son's torso, exhausted and, for the moment, sated.
A man now and a woman once more... together in that moment... as they would be again in many moments yet to come that night...
*************************
Three doors away along the corridor, Drew thought he heard a noise from somewhere but this hardly distracted him as he looked down at Louise writhing beneath him. He thrust and pumped unmercifully between her legs, seeking to enjoy that look on her face - the one which told him she was lost in enjoyment of herself as a female and being brought to such a pitch by her own father.
They had "found" each other a few years ago, during one of Rose's workaholic business trips to God knows where. Both feeling neglected and both needing to get away from it all, Drew had thrown a dart at the map and, totally by chance, they had ended up here for that long weekend. It had been one which, with Sonia's prompting and help, had worked out in an unexpected but totally enjoyable way. Such long weekends had been repeated at intervals since. It was quite amazing how married-to-her-work Rose had never "twigged"... it always seemed to Drew that it was an obvious and brazen ploy: his claim of driving Louise to the station to leave for her French or German camps and then "going on to do his sea fishing trip". The stupid woman. Such a one-track, tunnel-vision mind, uninterested in family or family matters.
He bent down to bite at her little nipples while one hand felt over her mound... ah, far more hairs there now than when we first started... He thrust joyfully up and into her, looking for her reaction all the time. Yes, a stupid, stupid woman... and not in the same league as this lovely little thing beneath me now.
Unlike Joanne, Drew was very familiar with what you might call the "taboo factor"... and as he let his wife's stupidity play across his mind, it gave rise to the same feeling of wanton illicitness which had spurred Joanne on only a few moments before. Yes, this is wrong... and doesn't that just make it wonderful!! Rose is busy studying sales charts... while I'm burying myself in our girl...
Staring down at his squirming daughter, Drew took hold of her hips and began to pound her with ever greater force, truly slamming into her. He enjoyed the build-up to the end game... and he knew she did, too...
Now, she became his fucking glove. Now she was merely something to provide friction and to catch his ejaculation. She was his tool; he would use her as such... and she would love it.
*************************
Hearing muffled footsteps coming down the stairs, Sonia looked through the serving hatch into the dining room and, shielding her eyes from the bright morning sunlight streaming through the front window, saw Joanne and Max making their appearance. It was funny, she thought, you would think after such a thing a couple would look completely tired - but they never did. Quite the contrary, mother and son looked refreshed and bright-eyed, happy with the world and everything in it. Max had placed a proprietary hand on the small of Joanne's back which was quickly brushed away.
Yes... odd... but she had seen the phenomenon many times before. "Pinehurst"'s number figured in many a secret notebook and on many a phone's "discreet contacts" list throughout the country.
During the course of breakfast, Joanne traded small talk and smiles with the table opposite. This time, Drew was seated in plain view opposite her. She realised that, in all likelihood, this was another couple like her and Max... that they had been here for the purpose of father-daughter intimacy. Rather than shock or disgust her, the thought intrigued her and she studied them all the more closely. A handsome guy - he looks like he can handle himself... and of course the stunning daughter...hmm... The more she checked out the man, the more it seemed to her that here was a "guy" who would take care of his family, someone who would not run off at zero notice in pursuit of ridiculous hobbies... a strong man in all respects...
Hmm, yes, she thought, an older sister for Max... might be just the kind of thing he could benefit from... The meal concluded, she rose from the table.
'You go on upstairs, darling. I'll follow in just a moment.'
As Max took his leave, she went over to Drew and Louse's table. Earnest conversation in low tones followed.
Sonia had been keeping an eye on matters in the dining room, as every good B&B landlady should, and a small, secret smile played over her lips. She had seen it all before... and she knew what was coming the moment the knock came on the kitchen door.
'Oh hello Mrs. Turnbull... er...' Joanne felt flustered again in Sonia's presence - somehow the woman had that effect on her.
'It's "Sonia", please...' came the response through a broad smile, 'What can I do for you?'
'Ah, well, Mr. McAllister and I have thought it would be a really nice idea if we all spent the day together - there are several places we have in common that we haven't visited, and we could all use just the one car. Would you have a room... er... rooms for the one more night which Max and I would need..?'
'I expect so, m'dear' said Sonia and then somewhat more sotto voce, 'This is for you - keep it safe and... watch it together, is my advice.' She slipped the flash drive she had been holding into Joanne's hand.
'Come with me', she said, leading Joanne back out into the hall.
And still in a low tone, 'We'll take a look in the book but, as far as I remember, I'll still have your room left free because there's just the one family arriving tonight...'
The furtive smile still hovered over her face. Except for Graham. Darling, darling Graham. She pondered which of the list of possible pretexts he could have given out to her silly daughter-in-law this time. And he won't be needing any of the guest rooms...
*************************
The van with the "Turnbull Home Maintenance" logo emblazoned on its side waited at the crossroads traffic lights. Graham's own thoughts were divided into the conflicting forces of pleasure and pain as he tried to calm his feelings over Claire's unreasonableness. She was such an airhead... always avoiding what seemed to her too much like hard work... making decisions... and then leaving him to cope with the consequences of her indecision. Yes, he was off to see his mother and this always brought a warm glow to his mind - but his arguments with his wife, only yesterday, still rankled. And it was not as if these were about trivia.
There had to be something wrong with one of them. Three years now after their wedding and still no sign of children. He had "been tested" and his sperm had been shown to be viable. Maybe this weighed upon Claire and she suspected her own fertility... OK, this he could understand... but not being willing to grasp the nettle and actually get herself checked out. Not to want to at least get to that stage... He wanted so much to be a father... and ideally before he was well into his thirties. He felt his anger begin rising again and forced himself to concentrate on the journey ahead.
As the lights turned slowly to green and he got the van back into motion, Graham thought ahead with rising anticipation to the next twenty-four hours. Pretexts were becoming ever harder to find for these escapes. "Nights away staying with friends" had once been a standard ploy... but that had once nearly come unstuck when Claire had expressed an interest in his destination and the possibility of paying a repeat visit... the both of them. This time it would have to be a half-truth... staying overnight with Mum while "fixing something". Ok, this had been planned for a while but now he just had to get away, whatever. Being with Mum would fix things, all right... at least for a while.
Slowly he released what he realised was an over-tight grip on the wheel. A sign went past as he finally cleared the Oxford road system, foretelling a mere half hour to his destination. The gradual greening of the countryside around him announced with even more finality that Oxford, Claire and most of his current problems were now being left behind... at least for that same while. He began to breathe more easily and opened his near window, allowing some fresh air and cooling breeze to enter the van. A small but noticeable grin began to spread over his features... Mum, yes... Mum...
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