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English Vacation, Part One
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
I am posting this series as a favor to the true author. He/she
originally posted it in r.a.e., but has since decided to continue
the story in our group. For those of you who appreciate a warning
this current chapter contains an underage teenager and elements
of incest. Further chapters will contain more contraversial themes.
I will forward comments to the author as long as my mailbox
is not flooded.
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Author's Note:
This is the first chapter of a longer work. I promise that
in succeeding chapters the sexual content will increase and
some of the actions of the protagonists, which presently
appear somewhat 'childish', will be shown to have at least
token motivation.
Washington Irving
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AN ENGLISH VACATION
by Washington Irving
I. The Beginning
She popped the last of the batter-fried cod into her mouth and
washed it down with the dregs of the pint of bitters. The
remaining mealy french fries (chips?) she would leave without
regret. Jimmy was already finished and looked as anxious as she
to get to their room and collapse. They had kidded each other
through the 'pub-grub' supper as to who would get the first hot
shower.
They had arrived in England that morning, after an all night
flight featuring a six hour time change. Both she and her son
had slept only fitfully in the cramped seats, arriving - after a
breakfast neither was ready for - into Gatwick airport at 8 A.M.
Greenwich time. She had booked ahead into an inn near Stratford
upon Avon, the one at which they now ate. She remembered from
her only other trip to the British Isles that the best way to
conquer the time change was to get on the new sleep schedule as
quickly as possible, so they had doggedly crammed themselves into
their tiny rental car and spent the day seeing castles, churches,
and picturesque villages. Jimmy went along with her doubtful
jet-lag theory - or at least refrained from complaining.
Actually, she was pleasantly surprised with his attitude.
After the divorce, it had seemed certain that he would go to
live with his father. But after spending a week with James
about a month before, Jimmy had announced he would stay with
her. In a surge of relief, she had planned this vacation for
the two of them, not thinking until it was too late that
travelling through England with his mother might not be a
thirteen year old boy's idea of a thrilling time. His smiles
seemed sincere, though, and she attributed to an overactive
imagination her feeling that his eyes showed an amused
superiority at her enthusiasm.
As they returned to the car to get their bags, she wondered
anew at Jimmy's rapid growth over just the past six months. He
was now a full four inches taller than her own petite 5' 1" and
lanky as a colt. She was thankful for his new male strength -
the suitcases would have been too much for her without him along
to take the larger ones. Now, hopefully, a quick check-in, then
a soft bed...
The jet-lag must have really set in. The inn-keeper's words
echoed meaninglessly in her fogged mind. "... you did ask for a
double room ... last one available ... other hotels and bed and
breakfasts in the area full also... busy season..." Why was he
restating the obvious, and looking back and forth from her to
her son? Yes, they were sharing a room, but they could change
in the bathroom and each stick to their own bed. They were
mother and son for chrissakes!
She nodded and said "Okay... fine... " enough times that the
innkeeper finally took them up to their room. He paused in
front of a room revealingly labelled 'toilet' and said that they
would be sharing it with some other guests, but it was only two
doors down from their room: very convenient. Wait, this wasn't
right!
"But I specifically asked for a room with bath!" She could
visualize waiting hours to bathe in the morning.
"Of course, Mrs. MacKenzie, you do have shower and sink in your
room." He seemed irritated at her lack of comprehension. "If
you wanted a toilet, too, you should have requested 'en suite'
facilities. We only have two rooms that have private lavatory
and bathing facilities and both of them are taken. Our historic
old buildings were not built with modern plumbing in mind."
Yes, yes, en suite. She remembered now. Oh, well, at least
they had a private shower. Had she brought a robe so she could
brave the corridor for a late night pee? She almost giggled at
the thought of shadowy people in various stages of undress
wandering the dark inn searching for a potty.
The inn-keeper stopped at the door to number four. "Well, here
you are. If I can be of help, let me know. Full English
breakfast from eight to nine thirty." He handed her the key.
She opened the door and stepped aside for Jimmy to carry in the
bags. As she followed, closing the door behind her, Jimmy
turned and gave her the strangest look, something between panic,
confusion, and... was there hidden amusement?
"Mom?"
When she looked around the room she saw the reason for his
shock.
A tiny room - barely enough floor space to set down the baggage!
One double bed! For her AND her son!
A shower stall about the size of a British phone booth in the
corner of the room! (A tiny sink and mirror hid in the opposite
corner, next to that side of the bed.)
Liz MacKenzie sat down in despair on the bed (the only place to
sit except for one upright wooden chair!), her head in her
hands. This was why the inn-keeper was so confused! What
could they do? How could she possibly share the bed with her
pubescent son?
Fortunately she had brought only flannel granny nightgowns,
since she had planned for them to share a room. Again she
remembered too late the proper terminology. She should have
requested a 'twin' room!
And the shower! She peeked through her fingers at it, praying
it would miraculously change. Bad enough that there was no
separate bathroom for privacy, but the shower walls were clear
plastic with just a row of decorative daisy decals about waist
height. Too high to hide... too low to cover... Oh, damn, damn,
damn.
The final, back-breaking straw was that she had booked the room
for two nights. And the manager had stressed that there wasn't
anything else available! Anywhere!
The room remained silent, still, for an interminable time.
Then Jimmy took a loud breath.
"Mom, this is weird, but I know its not your fault. We just
have to act natural, I guess." Act natural, yes. But how? She
heard Jimmy kick off his shoes. When she looked up he was
pulling off his shirt. "I got first shower. I feel kind of
funny, but you're my mother, so you've sure seen me naked. I
assume I was born that way." He laughed nervously at his
attempt at humor, and she looked up to give him a smile in
response. His undershirt flew onto the bed. Then, he looked
deeply into his mother's eyes, and, with a slight shrug of his
bare shoulders, in a quick motion pushed his pants and jockey
shorts down together. Stepping out of them, he stood nude in
front of her looking as embarrassed as only a teenager going
through puberty could be.
It was right in front of her face. A smooth tube of flesh,
arcing downward. About four inches long with just a small tuft
of reddish-brown hair (the MacKenzie blood) above it. She knew
well from her experiences with James and, well, with at least
one other man, that it was about half way between soft and hard.
She was glad they had chosen circumcision... My God, woman, her
mind screamed, don't stare, he's your son!
She looked up at his face, her cheeks crimson. He stared back,
embarrassment, surprise, and that unfathomable something else
flitting across his features. He turned around and walked
toward the shower. He glanced back once as he opened the shower
door, catching her staring at is compact, teenage ass.
She whirled away and tried to busy herself with some unpacking.
Heaving the biggest suitcase onto the bed, she extracted a
nightgown and toiletries. But her body was reacting to her
son's maleness; and her gaze kept returning to the shower, where
through the clear sides she could see her son's... her son's
handsome cock.
She resolutely tried to keep her thoughts on the problems with
the room, their plans for tomorrow, anything! But, oh Jesus,
now he's soaping it, and the ball-sac beneath. Is it growing?
Is he washing it or stroking it? Shit, he caught me looking
again! She had forgotten that if she could look in below the
daisies, he could look out above the daisies. She quickly went
around the bed so that as she worked her back was to him. She
could feel the moistness in her crotch, though, and her nipples
ached in their hardness. Finally, she heard the shower being
turned off and the shower door open.
"Mom, could you get me a towel?"
Towel? She glanced back at him in confusion and for the first
time noticed that there was no rack on the stall. Her eyes
searched dazedly around the room, and she saw that the towels
were hung by the sink on the other side of the bed. She moved
back around the bed, got one, and turned to bring it to him.
Act natural. Act natural.
He was standing, facing her, an uncertain smile on his face.
As she walked toward him, however, her eyes could not help but
stray downward again, and, unconsciously, she licked her
suddenly parched lips. He reacted, automatically and strongly,
and she realized by the tell-tale bouncy twitch of his manhood
that he was involuntarily hardening. Her eyes came back up
immediately, but the damage was done. He tried to stifle a
groan and moved both hands in front of his rising penis. She
held the towel out to him and turned away as soon as he took it.
One of his shielding hands, however, had necessarily moved away
from his now almost completely upright organ to take the towel.
As she turned, she saw out of the corner of her eye that he was
a man beyond his years.
Six inches? Yes, at least. Not as big as his father, or, some
others, but really, he's only thirteen. She stood still,
frozen, staring vacantly at the far wall, the image of his stiff
staff burned into her consciousness as he dried himself a few
feet behind her.
Slowly, out of the daze that had befuddled her since dinner
(she really shouldn't have drunk that pint of ale!) the thought
crystalized that she would have to take the next shower. Oh,
Liz, you stupid... ! She should have undressed while Jimmy was
showering and draped herself with a towel. Then, perhaps tell
him not to look while she was washing in the stall. Now what?
Her son brushed by her (what was that rubbing against her hip?)
and in one motion whipped the towel onto the bed and plopped
down on his stomach on it, facing her. "Your turn, Ma. The
water gets hot fast, so watch out." He kept up a light patter
as he looked up at her, but his white, firm buttocks, still
brazenly bare, captured her attention.
As if hypnotized, she kicked out of her shoes and unbuttoned
her blouse. His small talk about the flight and their day
together provoked automatic replies as she shed the blouse and
opened her slacks. When she stepped out of her pants she
suddenly realized she was in her underwear standing less than
three feet in front of her thirteen year old child. Her face
reddened and she would have dived under the bed but for the
words that kept appearing in her mind: "Act natural." What
could she do? Make him stand in the corridor wearing his towel
while she bathed? Her body was, after all, nothing to be
ashamed of.
She really didn't look her thirty-two years. Her hair was
almost black, and she had it cut pixie-short. Her upturned nose
and small mouth made her face look almost adolescent, but her
body was mature. She still wore her light, wispy 34C bra, but
it did nothing to hide her aroused dark brown nipples. Her
great pride was that even with C-cup breasts, which looked huge
on her diminutive form, she needed no support. Oh, they
bobbled, but did not sag at all. She could pass the pencil test
easily. Her waist was 21", and her hips widened gracefully to
33" (34" if she'd been sneaking desserts). Her translucent
white panties were french-cut, in fact almost a thong in the
rear, and her shiny black pubic curls had been trimmed and
partially shaved to fit inside the panties' sharp vee. The
shadowy dark patch of hair formed a perfect triangle pointing
down to where the wispy silk clung to her damp, swollen labia.
Her legs were long in proportion to her short frame - her crotch
was almost at the same level as Jimmy's when they stood side by
side. To be succinct, she was the most beautiful and desirable
female her young son could imagine.
She realized she'd best get on with it, her underwear wasn't
hiding anything anyway (act natural) so she reached to unhook
her front-opening bra. Just as she undid the clasp, she noticed
that Jimmy's butt had started flexing, pressing his hips
rhythmically into the towel. She suddenly felt like a stripper
forced to perform for some Lodge smoker. As the expression
goes, she lost it.
"Jimmy! What in the world do you think you're doing? This
situation isn't just an excuse for you rub yourself off on the
bath towel. I'm your mother, for God's sake, not some slut in a
Penthouse magazine. Yes, a Penthouse magazine like those you
hide under your bed when you're not masturbating." Jimmy's head
snapped back as if she had slapped him. Tears formed in his
eyes. She began to realize that she had overdone it by
mentioning the magazines. She had never meant to admit she knew
about that. It was his secret: every boy's secret. But once
started, she couldn't stop. It was as if all her fears and
frustrations burst out at once.
"Roll over!" She pushed at his shoulder, and, in shock, he
docilely rolled onto his back. "I knew it. Can't I trust you
at all? Look at you. Don't you have any self-control? You're
disgusting!" It was true that his young cock stood hard and
swollen. The dark red of the pulsing corona and the shiny drop
of precum testified to the height of his excitement. As he
looked up at his furious mother, though, her now naked breasts
waving in his face, he seemed to calm and his face suffused with
something akin to anger.
"Oh, yeah, mom. It's all my fault I got a boner. I tried to
make up for you getting this crazy room by ignoring the
situation. But you kept looking and looking at my dick. Even
sneaking peeks while I was showering. Now you've rolled me over
so you can scope it out close up. Well, look, dammit," he
arched his back, thrusting his pelvis at her, "but if I stare a
little at the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, please don't
think I'm some kind of creep." He lowered his eyes and sniffed.
"I'm sorry about the Penthouses. Sometimes I just can't help
wanting to... to jack off! I won't do it any more."
It was like cold water splashing her face. She dropped to one
knee next to the bed and stroked his hair gently. "Jimmy, I'm
so sorry. Oh, how could you ever forgive me. Of course you
became excited. And when a man," she emphasized the word 'man',
"gets excited his penis gets... erect, whether he wants it to or
not. You couldn't help it." She took his face in her hands and
gently kissed his brow. (He almost gasped at the feel of her
soft, naked tits against his shoulder and chest.) "You're
right, my darling son, I did stare at you. I was surprised and
proud at how much of a man you've become. And thank you for the
compliment about my figure. But really, your old mom can't
compete with the 'young chicks.' I'm enough of a realist to
know that."
He put his arm loosely around his mother's shoulder, hoping she
would remain pressed against him. "No lie, Mother, if your
picture was in Penthouse, they'd sell out, and all the men in
America would be walking around with hard-ons."
Liz MacKenzie laughed and squeezed Jimmy against her. "Now
don't fib, your nose will grow. And believe me, I don't mind at
all about the girlie magazines. If you didn't masturbate I'd
worry about you! I was just so frustrated and tired that I took
it all out on you. I deserve a spanking, not you... " Her
voice trailed off.
His chin was on her shoulder so she couldn't see the change in
his expression at her words. His voice stayed meek and mild,
however, as he asked, "So can we just try to be natural
together? Even if I can't help getting excited now and then?
I'll try not to."
She was still feeling guilty and apologetic, so she had to
accede. "Of course, dear. We'll just remember we're mother and
son. If you get an erection, I'll just try to ignore it and
take it as a compliment." It sounded reasonable, but she had
misgivings even as she spoke. What was she getting herself into?
She released him and straightened. Now she couldn't be coy.
She couldn't make him turn around or look away. He faced her
but remained on his side, hard cock projecting from his groin.
"Well, I might as well relieve the suspense," she laughed hollowly.
She threw her bra onto the bed next to Jimmy and bent
to slide down her panties. He watched with concealed delight as
her breasts hung wobbling and her Venus mound appeared.
She stood erect, legs slightly apart. Arms raised and spread.
His eyes fastened on her cunt lips, completely revealed due to
her pubic trimming. They were slightly open, and the
reddish-pink flesh inside peeked through. A sheen of moisture
covered the inner slit.
"Well, here's your ol' ma, buck naked. Now if you're done
gawking why don't you unpack your things while I get clean."
She pirouetted gracefully and strode toward the shower. Her
young son almost came all over the bed watching her magnificent
ass flex and sway.
Two people seemed to go very purposefully about their business
for the next fifteen minutes. Liz MacKenzie washed her hair and
scrubbed herself dutifully. But she kept her eyes either closed
or downcast. She didn't want to catch her son ogling her, and
deep down she knew he was. So she moved around in the shower,
presenting each part of herself to his gaze, hoping that once
the novelty had worn off, it WOULD be possible for them to be
natural around each other.
Jimmy MacKenzie busied himself unpacking, but his eyes never
left his mother's body. He was learning how desirable a woman
could look wet and slick with soap. Her nipples were engorged -
almost an inch long - and her pussy looked glistening and
swollen. She even spread apart the lips as she washed, as if
she wanted him to see her completely. He seemed to intuit that
she would not glance up, that somehow she would be afraid of
catching him. He thought briefly about jacking off. Jeez he
was horny! But unconsciously he realized that he would be
letting his mother off the hook. Especially if she saw. Better
to keep her feeling that she was somehow responsible for his
sexual frustration.
When she finally finished, she saw that he had donned his
jockey shorts - she assumed he would sleep in them - and was
fetching a towel.
"Oh, thanks, hon. I should have remembered." She held a hand
out for it.
He moved in closer to her, however, and gently pushed on her
shoulder, turning her around. Before she had time to question
or protest, he had draped her head with the heavy towel and was
firmly rubbing, drying her hair. Her initial tensing at his
approach was immediately replaced by tendrils of pleasure that
began in her scalp and flowed down her neck to her back then
surged through her whole body.
"Aaaaaaahhhhhhh! Oh, Jesus, Jimmy. Your allowance just got
doubled. Just do this for me every day of my life!"
All the exhaustion and tension was pouring out of her, replaced
by a heavenly lassitude. She made no protest when, her hair
dried, he proceeded to dry her back. His strong hands, working
over the towel, kneaded her shoulders, provoking another
sensuous purr. As he worked down her back, she began to tense -
he could see her white ass cheeks tighten and begin to clench -
so he skipped down to her calves, drying and kneading. She
relaxed again, but suddenly he sped up, rubbing from her knees
up her thighs, and before she could react, he was drying (and
still kneading, kneading, kneading) her soft, bare buttocks.
After her acceptance of his original ministrations, she couldn't
find the words to stop him now. How did he know that her ass
was the key to her sexuality? He made a careful project of it:
drying every inch, almost hurting as his fingers dug in. He
even ran the towel, firmed by his fingers, down through her
nether crack, then back up it again. She shivered in a confused
flurry of thoughts and sensations.
When he softly pulled on her arm to turn her around, she could
tell he was squatting behind her, staring at the shaved regions
between her lags. She couldn't let him... not her front! She
turned enough to reach for the towel. "I think I'd better take
it from here, dear." She tried to smile gently. "We'd better
not overdo this 'natural' thing."
He released the towel, blushing slightly. She faced him,
shielded by the towel, and started to dry herself. He rose part
way, then tried to crab backward toward the bed. In spite of
his efforts, she could see his hard-on tenting out his
underpants.
She felt reassured by his boyish embarrassment. "Jimmy, would
you hand me my nightgown? It's there on the pillow."
He turned his back with some relief and reached across the bed
for the gown. Grabbing it, he was turning to hand it to her
when it unfolded in his grasp. He paused and examined the long,
bulky garment.
"Mom, its summer. Why do you want to wear this flannel thing.
Look, long sleeves and it will reach your ankles. Did you plan
this so you'd be all covered up with me only in my underpants."
He straightened, showing graphically that his erection hadn't
completely disappeared.
"It's what I brought along, let's leave it at that. It's what
I want to wear."
"Look. It's still got the price tag on it. $7.95 at Walmart?
Since when are you buying clothes there? And why did you buy
this special for our summer vacation? What do you usually wear
to bed? That would be more fair!"
She didn't want to answer any of his questions. Yes, she had
bought the flannel gowns for this trip to cover herself
completely. She didn't plan ever to wear them again so she
bought cheap ones. And she certainly didn't want to admit that
she had slept naked for years and years, ever since...
"Look, Jimmy, just to keep the peace and get some sleep, I'll
sleep in my underwear just like you." She passed a hand over
her eyes. She shouldn't, but couldn't bear another argument.
"Hand me my bra and panties and let's get to bed."
As her son turned to the bed again she couldn't see the gleam
in his eye and the hint of a smile on his face. He had moved
the suitcase off the bed and placed her flimsy undergarments
prominently on the quilt. He picked one garment up with each
hand and eyed the bra critically.
"You're not going to bother with this, are you, mom? I saw the
lines it made on your skin when you took it off. And I'm only
wearing one thing. To be fair... "
"Damn it, Jimmy, why do you have to push it. All right!" She
was close to screaming. Please just let me sleep! "I'll just
wear the panties. You're not fooling me though, mister, you
just want to see my boobs."
She drew on the sexy panties as Jimmy got under the covers.
She walked around the tiny room, turning out lights, knowing
that her suddenly sex-crazed (no, that was unfair) that her
young son coming to grips with the reality of sex was watching
every bounce of her big breasts, every twitch of her rippling
butt. With a sigh of relief she slid under the covers. One
more thing to make clear.
"Jimmy, this was never supposed to happen, us sleeping in the
same bed. There's bound to be some contact as we roll over in
our sleep, we'll have to live with that. But if I wake to find
even one finger of yours touching where it shouldn't, you're
sleeping on the floor for the two nights. Is that clear?"
"Yes, mom." Timidly. Two full minutes of silence, then: "Can
I ask one question?"
"Yes, dear." Said with a tired sigh.
"When men get excited by a girl, they get hard-ons. They can't
stop it. Does something like that happen to a girl when she
gets excited by a man? I'm not trying to be dirty, mom, I
really want to know."
What could she say? It was a reasonable question, especially
with the problems he had had that evening. She was his only
parent now that James was out of the picture, solely responsible
for his sex education.
"Things do happen to women, Jimmy, but they're less apparent.
A lot of the time a woman's nipples will enlarge. She'll get
little hard-ons on her breasts." She giggled with him. "What
really shows that a woman is aroused, though, is moistness or
wetness in her vagina. It's called secreting, and when a woman
is extremely excited it can even leak out on her labia and onto
her inner thighs." Whew. Her own secretions had started
flowing just from talking aloud about it.
"Oh. Thanks, mom."
She sensed him turning onto his side to go to sleep. That's
it? 'Thanks, mom'? She had sweated bullets talking to a
thirteen year old boy about what hot, horny cunts are like and
all it's worth is 'Oh'? A weird ending to a weird day. She
closed her tired eyes and tried to quell those fiery tinglings
in her crotch.
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