Fear Of Flying 1

Mary's daughter had been moody from the start of the holiday, making it obvious that she didn't want to be there. Neither did Jack want her there. Carol was a nineteen year old behaving like a nine year old, finding something to complain about at every opportunity. The taxi was late and she fretted that they would miss their flight, then was annoyed, rather than relieved, to find that the flight was delayed, and bemoaned the two hour wait. The airport was crowded because of the delays and she grumbled, her favourite perfume was out of stock in the shop and she sulked, she had been allocated a window seat and she refused to take it. Sitting by the window the view frightened her, sitting by the aisle she would be jostled by the people passing back and forth, and so she had to sit between her mother and Jack.

"Comfy yet?" he asked, hinting that she might keep still, stop squirming in her seat, nudging him with her knee or poking him with her elbow.

"There's not enough room," she complained. "I bet first class wouldn't be as cramped as this."

Carol was a long leggy thing, seemed longer still in the brief shorts she wore, but Jack was in no mood for offering sympathy, said, "There are no first class seats on this flight. It's all one class."

"There would have been if we'd gone to Florida, like I wanted to."

"Well we're going to Portugal and you'll love it," said her mother. "Won't she, Jack?"

He somehow doubted it, gave a noncommittal grunt.

The aircraft began to back out from the terminal, turned to taxi towards the runway, and suddenly Carol was still. Jack looked at her, saw that her eyes were closed, her body tense, glanced beyond her to Mary who shook her head, put a finger to her lips to tell him to say nothing.

So moody young Carol was frightened of flying?

The aircraft turned at the end of the runway, paused there a moment, then the pilot opened up the throttle. As the engines screamed and the aircraft began to accelerate Jack felt Carol's hand clamp on his thigh, the fingers digging in harder the faster they went. He was about to prise her fingers free when the aircraft lifted and her grip relaxed a little. Let the flight level out and she would take her hand away, he thought.

Only she didn't.

Thirty minutes into the flight she seemed to be sleeping, she had turned a little in her seat, her head almost resting on his shoulder, her back to her mother to block her view. Her hand rested high on Jack's thigh now, and each time she shifted, or the aircraft shuddered, it would move against him, the back of her knuckles rubbing against his cock.

Landing, Jack's cock wept as Carol gripped him firmly again, as if the pain of her manicured nails digging into him was a delight rather than a torture.

But then she was back to her usual recalcitrant self when the aircraft came safely to a halt, wondering why on earth they needed an airport bus when the arrival terminal was only a hundred yards away across the tarmac.

"It's safety procedure," Jack explained.

"And we always play it safe?" she asked, baring her midriff as she reached up to retrieve her hand luggage from the overhead locker.

He thought he caught a smile, but its meaning escaped him, and it was the last smile he saw from her for a while. Her mood noticeably darkened when he pointed their hire car away from the coast.

"Where is this villa you've rented?" she demanded.

"A little way up in the hills, about twenty miles inland," he told her.

"So there's no beach?"

"There's a swimming pool," her mother hurriedly told her.

"And bars? Clubs?"

The lack of a quick reply was answer enough and she was silent for the rest of the drive.

*

"Thanks for being patient with her," said Mary, embracing Jack as he set down the first of their cases in the villa's spacious lounge.

"That's okay," he said grudgingly, and wrapped his arms around her.

"And for saying nothing on the plane too," she added, kissing him. "She really is terrified of flying. I think it was a comfort for her to have you next to her. It's been so long since her Dad left, she misses having a man about the place."

Jack returned her kiss, ran his hands down to her waist, pulling her close against him.

"Mm Jack, you're hard! Is it the heat?" Mary asked him.

"Could be," he said, slipping his tongue into her mouth, moving his groin against hers, his hands beginning to roam about her body.

He could feel her nipples pricking against the cotton of her tee shirt, her breasts firm though she wore no bra, as firm as her daughter's despite her years.

"But that will have to wait until after," said Mary, finally breaking the kiss.

"Not in front of the children?" he supposed glumly.

"I'll make it up to you later," she promised, taking a step back from him as she heard her daughter's footsteps, flip-flops slapping the tiled floor.

"There's no water! Now what are we supposed to do?" Carol demanded, coming through from the kitchen brandishing a sheet of paper. "See! The cisterna -whatever the hell that is!- is empty, can't be filled until tomorrow."

"The cisterna is the tank that holds the water, the supply is diverted to each part of the hillside in turn," Jack explained patiently. "Tomorrow we'll have gallons enough in there to last the whole holiday."

"And in the meantime?" Carol asked, arms folded, foot tapping. She might have become the teacher her mother was, except that Mary would never permit herself to look so cross. "So? What do we do until then?"

"Get bottled water," her mother suggested. "There'll be a store in the village."

"No need for that," Jack told them. "There's a natural spring above us, pure mineral water straight from the source. People come from miles around to fill up from it."

"Fancy a walk?" Mary asked her daughter.

"Do I hell!" said Carol, flouncing off.

Jack shrugged, Mary gave a sad smile, and together they unloaded the rest of the cases from the car. Then, swapping jeans for shorts and shoes for sandals, they found plastic containers in the kitchen and set off for the spring.

There was music coming from the poolside and they assumed that Carol was content enough to do her own thing. Most probably sulk, thought Jack, but said nothing.

At the rear of the villa the land quickly began to climb, and though the trail they followed took them through fragrant orange groves they were afforded little shade from the afternoon sun.

"One good thing," said Jack, wiping the sweat from his brow. "We'll probably be the only ones daft enough to be trekking up here at this time of the day."

"Mad dogs and Englishmen, eh?" Mary smiled, plucking damp cotton from her breasts, fanning the tee shirt at her waist to let in a little air.

As they rounded the hill, still some way from its summit, they saw the village nestling before them, the road down to the coast winding its way through the bleached white buildings. It was maybe a mile, a mile and a half away, but the spring was closer, only a little further along and off the track to their right.

"This is it?" said Mary, looking at the grey-green trough of rough stone, the plinth-like structure behind it from which there protruded plain brass taps. "I was expecting something more Alpine."

"Wrong part of Europe," Jack grinned, and she gave him a dig in the ribs.

"You know what I mean! A spring! Clear water bubbling over a rocky bed."

"Which is what this is, until it reaches here and they tap it," Jack told her, and turned one of the taps, cupped his hands beneath it. "Here, try."

Her hands keeping her hair out of the way, Mary bent to lap the water from his hands. It was cold, sweet, as refreshing as anything that might have come from a refrigerated bottle. She ducked her face beneath the tap, slurped at the stream until her teeth ached.

"Mm! That's so good!" she said, straightening, drying her mouth across the back of her hand.

"Mm!" Jack echoed, not drinking himself, just watching her as he filled the two containers from another tap, and she followed his downward gaze.

What had been a damp tee shirt was now drenched at the front and clinging slickly to her breasts, perfectly moulded to her nipples. She ran her fingertips lightly over them, then grinned at Jack, peeled the tee shirt from her belly and slipped a hand into the top of her shorts.

"Do you want me, Jack?" she asked softly.

"Oh God do I want you!" he said, standing there like a weightlifter, a canister of water hanging from each arm.

Mary looked to the left and the right. The track was empty in both directions, the nearest habitation on the edge of the village, nearly a mile away, but still it was a risk; there might be other mad dogs or English tourists out and about.

How exciting!

"Is your cock hard for me, Jack?" she asked.

"You know damn well it is!"

"Then come," she invited him, her finger beckoning him to follow as she backed away, up a slight grassy slope to the shade of a eucalyptus tree.

As Jack followed, still carrying the canisters of water, she sat down at the foot of the tree and slowly pulled her tee shirt over her head.

"Is your cock hot for me, Jack?" she now asked, pressing the wet tee shirt against her breasts as if to cool them.

"Hot enough to scorch your cunt," he promised, and she gave a dirty laugh, patted the ground beside her.

Jack set the canisters of water down, began to sit, but then felt her fingers at the elasticised waist of his shorts, quickly yanking them down.

"Mary!" he said, knees bending, hands grabbing at hers to stop her.

"Jack?" she grinned. "We can't do anything about your hot cock with your shorts on. Now don't be a baby and pull them down."

"But if someone should come?"

"Then I'll cover you, they won't see a thing," Mary promised.

Jack let his shorts slip to his ankles only as his buttocks touched the ground, and he sat almost primly, knees raised, thighs together, his shirt just long enough to cover his lap, to disguise the fact that his groin was naked.

"Silly man!" Mary laughed, leaning into him and wrapping an arm around his neck, kissing the line of his jaw, teeth nipping his ear as her other hand insinuated itself between his thighs. "Let me feel, dear," she insisted, probing deeper. "Let me feel how much you need this. And I do know you need this."

It was no longer the heat of the Portuguese sun which had Jack sweating now, nor the exertion of the climb which had him weak and short of breath, and slowly his body slumped in Mary's embrace, his thighs parted for her like the petals of a flower which had caught the first rays of the sun.

"Oh my, but you are hot!" she exclaimed softly, as her fingers closed on his cock. "So hot you might be about to spontaneously combust or prematurely ejaculate."

Jack thought he might well do the latter; he trembled in her embrace, shivered at her touch as if the heat had brought on a fever.

But then she quickly took her hand away, and he opened his eyes to see her pressing her wet tee shirt around his cock, felt the still cold dampness calm his tumescence. She held the damp material hard against him, like a bandage, like a poultice, as if there was a poison inside him that needed to be drawn out.

There was a teasing laughter in her eyes as she searched his face for a reaction, a quizzical look as if she dared him to understand her intentions.

"What are you doing to me Mary?" he asked.

"Taunting you, Jack," she answered, the laughter still in her eyes, the smile still on her lips. "Though perhaps that is cruel of me. After the way you were with Carol, during the flight, I think maybe you deserve your reward. Or do I mean punishment?"

"Eh?" he asked, confused as he felt Mary's hand on his cock again.

"Reward for being nice to my daughter," she said, stroking him again before his erection could fully die. "Or punishment for pandering to her. Which should it be?"

He wondered what Mary meant, might have been about to ask, but then felt the pad of her thumb brush the tip of his cock to bring him erect again. All he could do was gasp. She had him as hard as he had ever been.

"This is thirsty work," Mary remarked, leaning across him to one of the canisters of water, her breasts smothering his face as she strained for it. She fumbled the cap off, tilted the neck to take a mouthful of cool spring water, still stroking him as she said, "I need to quench my thirst before I quench anything else."

When she sat back, taking her breasts from his face, Jack was close to coming again. There was no smile for him this time though, her mouth was too full of the cold water to permit any as she bowed her head over his cock and let it wash over him as she took him into her mouth.

"Too chilled to come now?" she asked, after she had taken him as deep as she could, then sucked along his length and licked at the tip, letting water spill all over his groin. "Then maybe this time," she said, before he could answer, plunging down on him a second time.

And now there was no teasing, just the gentle caress of her mouth on his cock bringing back the warmth, taking away the tingling cold to bring instead a prickling heat which suffused his whole body.

Jack felt himself glow deep within, every inch of his body was alive though it was only her mouth which now caressed him, and his hips lifted from the ground, wanting to be ever deeper inside her.

Then he heard the shuffle of feet along the track not far away, someone slowly coming closer.

"Stop, Mary, stop!" he said.

"No, Jack, no!" she answered, her teeth grazing his cock so her lips could part.

"But there's someone coming!"

"Yes!" Mary laughed. "You!"

*

The excitement of a stranger approaching made Jack come before the stranger did, an elderly Portuguese woman swathed in black, with a black felt trilby shading her from the sun.

He recovered himself enough to wish her a pleasant 'boa tarde' as she passed, and she returned the greeting, continuing on her way without concern.

"A very good afternoon indeed!" Mary chuckled, wiping her lips and then kissing him with tenderness.

Her back had been bowed and turned to the old woman, Jack's groin covered as she had promised, and there could have been no offence caused.

"You are-!" Jack began, pulling his shorts back on before anyone else could happen along, but then found himself lost for words.

"Beautiful? Beguiling? Bewitching?" Mary suggested, standing and pulling her tee shirt back on.

"One hell of a bitch," Jack said. "What has got into you?"

"I'm just determined that we are all going to enjoy this holiday," she said. "And like I say, it was your reward, or maybe your punishment, for the way you were towards Carol."

There it was again, the cryptic comment, the suggestion that for once he might have been nice towards Carol, or maybe the accusation that he had taken advantage of her.

For some reason it worried him.

"Do you think you can manage the water containers on your own, Jack?" she asked.

"I suppose so," he said. "But why?"

"I rather fancy walking on to the village, just to have a look around, if you don't mind."

"No, I don't mind, if you're sure you'll be okay on your own."

"Of course I'll be okay!" she answered brightly, kissing him on the cheek. "Just make sure you don't get into trouble."

*

The water containers were heavier than they seemed, by the time Jack reached the villa he had worked up a sweat again and the palms of his hands were burning. Depositing the water in the kitchen, taking one of the cold beers which had been left in the fridge for them, he went to the bedroom where he stripped and showered.

Then, pulling on a pair of swimming trunks, he went out to the pool.

Carol had found the beer too, she lay sprawled on a lounger, wearing a skimpy bikini, a bottle clasped lewdly between her thighs. She raised her sunglasses, opened one eye to watch as he walked past her to one of the other loungers and angled it towards the sun.

"Nice walk, Jack?" she asked; and then, "Did Mum come too?"

"Eh?" he said, stretching out.

"Did Mum come with you too?"

"Oh. No. Your mother has gone to take a look at the village."

"Ah," said Carol, lowering the sunglasses again.

The radio was playing softly beside her, Jack could hear her humming along with it, and as he watched her he saw her hand move to the beer bottle. She didn't raise it to her lips to drink, though, but ran her fingers up and down its neck, around its mouth, a slow and lazy motion, as if she was trying to excite it.

Or excite him?

A ridiculous notion, he told himself, but he found it difficult to take his eyes from her. She had her mother's blonde hair, the same full breasts, in her he could imagine the Mary of twenty years ago, though her waist was slimmer and her thighs leaner. Those thighs were now tensing, he saw, the muscles visibly flexing as they gripped the bottle more tightly, and there was nothing musical about the low sounds now coming from her. She was no longer humming, but sighing.

"Are you watching, Jack?" she asked, her face turned towards him but her eyes unseen behind the dark glasses, and when his only response was to give an uncomfortable cough she laughed. "Get you another beer?" she asked, getting to her feet and striding back into the villa.

He should have got up too, gone to his bedroom, or in search of Mary, anywhere away from temptation, but when Carol returned he hadn't moved.

She walked slowly towards him, a barefoot elegance about her, hips swaying, arms swinging casually, two bottles loosely clutched in the fingers of one hand. Rather than offer him one, though, she swung her legs astride him, lowered herself onto his lap and set the bottles down on the ground beside her.

"Thirsty, Jack?" she asked, her hands moving behind her back.

"Carol?"

"I think you must be, Jack, in this heat, and you're sweating," she said, as she unfastened the bikini top and slipped it from her shoulders.

She cupped her hands beneath her breasts, though they were firm enough and there was no need to support them, stroked her thumbs slowly across her nipples to make them erect.

She smiled down at him to hold his gaze, he was aware of one hand moving from her breast, then returning with one of the bottles of beer. She licked the mouth of the bottle, ran her tongue over it, kissed it and sucked it before tipping it back and taking a mouthful.

"Mm, lovely," she said, not swallowing, so that much of the beer ran down her chin.

Then she bent to kiss him, sharing the beer with him, spilling it into his mouth and then following it with her tongue, which felt cold and effervescent. His tongue met hers and fought to caress it, chased it as it washed around his mouth, across his teeth.

He was actually gasping when she drew her mouth away, so exciting had been her kiss, and when she removed her sunglasses he saw an almost mocking laughter in her eyes.

"What are you doing, Carol?" he asked.

"Why preparing to fuck you, Jack, when I have you excited enough," she answered matter-of-factly, and took the bottle again, poured beer over her breasts before lowering them towards his face, saying, "But first we need to quench that thirst of yours. Suck me, Jack, drink me."

Her firm breast filled his mouth, the crisp nipple grazed his tongue, and he sucked greedily, his hands wrapping around her to hold her close, feeling her young body alive with passion and adventure.

As much adventure as her mother had shown at the spring, he thought.

Carol moved his mouth from one breast to another, her fingers roaming all over his face as she directed him, let him suck on that a while, then had him switching from one breast to the other so quickly that it was as if she was slapping him with them.

When she finally brought her breasts back from his face his cheeks were burning, as if scorched by the sun.