Never book a holiday when you're drunk!
It all started a week before, on a Friday night when we were in a pub and my friend Alice drunkenly told me; "You need some cock! You know you do ... they all know you do!"
Then curled her lip and theatrically waved her wine glass around the group to confirm her point.
"When he picks the kids up on Friday, just get on a plane to Spain ... get a taxi to the nearest bar and jump some hung Spanish waiter."
There was a pause; "You know I'm right! you do."
Then my other friends all burst out laughing as I squirmed with embarrassment.
The story sort of started two years previously when my cheating bastard of an ex-husband announced he had gotten a young woman at work pregnant and was leaving me to live with her; conveniently forgetting we already had two sons of our own.
The next year being alone was a nightmare; balancing the books, bringing up the boys, working in the factory; and beating myself up over why he would cheat on me didn't help.
I genuinely didn't understand; I still loved sex; okay it wasn't as often or perhaps as wild as it was when we were first married; but until about a year before he left me, I still loved sucking his cock, even if he no longer reciprocated!
How many married women can say that?
In his defence he let me keep the house and helped with lots of bills and the rent too, but I was still on my own, bringing up two boys and holding down a brain numbing job.
It took a while but in the last few months things were getting better and I was now getting back to my old self slowly but surely.
What Shauna was talking about was that the following week, my ex, Keith was taking my two sons, his toddler and his much younger girlfriend on a camping holiday, leaving me on my lonesome, which I was actually looking forward to being on my own, reading books, watching old films and drinking copious amounts of wine; but my friends thought otherwise.
On the Tuesday night before the kids going on holiday I was alone and feeling lonely in my bedroom, mostly reading stories on this site and occasionally flicking onto my new favourite porn channel, which I'd overheard some guys at work talking about and had already cum twice, when Alice's words sprang to mind. ... my sex toy was fun; but a real cock would certainly be nicer, wouldn't it?
I weakened and fortified by a now empty bottle of wine set about finding a hotel on the coast.
Hmmmm ... this wasn't as easy as I'd hoped.
a) They were very expensive
b) most were fully booked; especially where I wanted to go.
After an hour or so I lowered my expectations and eventually found a pub-hotel on the edge of a small village, further up the coast from my first choice; the price was about right but when I tried to book, it too was full. But, there was a link to an adjoining caravan site, which had a single 'cancellation.'
As I speed-read the home page, it was actually a Private site but there was a vacancy next week at a bargain price.
Result!
The pictures were lovely, alongside 6 or 7 others, it sat above a small private cove, mostly pebbles but also some sandy bits next to some gorgeous dunes that would suit 'naturalists' ... what wasn't to like? I really loved the idea of wandering aimlessly along the cliff tops imagining I was a character in an Emily Bronte story; or such like.
I booked it, read another couple of sexy stories, masturbated again ... then fell fast sleep, until the alarm went off at 7am and the real world started up again.
The next couple of days went by in a flash, getting the kids clothes sorted for their holiday on top of everything else wasn't easy; but hey ... I'm a woman; and with the help of more red wine, strong coffee and cigarettes (yes; I'd started smoking again!) I got through.
Friday arrived and Keith arrived to pick up his two very excited boys at the allotted time and as he drove away "Enjoy yourselves! Have fun." I lied as I shouted at them; as my sons excitedly waved back and Keith's pretty; some would say 'tarty' new girlfriend had a haunted look on her young face, presumably thinking of all the fun and games her new family would have in a camp-field in the middle of nowhere.
After tea, I quickly packed my suitcase and a cool bag with some food and wine in; then set about an evening of DIY sex fun reading sexy stories and watching dirty porno films.
After breakfast I packed my trusty Fiat 500, and smiled as I thought, "there's 106 miles to the seaside, I've got a full tank of petrol, half a pack of cigarettes, it's sunny, and I'm wearing sunglasses!"
Vroom ... and awaaaay.
Just over two hours later I was slowly driving through the tiny fishing village looking for the Sailor's Arms where I would pick up the caravan keys, which was sited half a mile behind their car park.
I soon found it and went inside, to find it quite busy with people having lunch. After a few minutes I introduced myself to a rather good looking young man who was serving behind the bar.
Only with hindsight I realised he gave me a 'funny look' then handed over the envelope with the keys inside and instructions about how everything worked.
As I walked back to my car I wondered if this tattooed 'surfer dude' was going to be my 'Spanish Waiter'? Hmmmm ... who knows.
The winding road up the hill was a bit bumpy but where the caravan was parked looked immaculate, as did the handful of picturesque wooden chalets that were alongside too.
As I unlocked the door a couple walking past stopped and welcomed me, introducing themselves as Dale and Jeanne, again; there was a 'funny look' when I explained that I was alone and no one would be joining me; but I just ignored it and said something like "I will see" when they asked if I wanted to join them on the beach later.
