Vacation Par Out of Season

Chapter 2

I tried again to make him stop; this time I pounded on his broad shoulders with my fists, shouting "Stop! I can't take anymore!"

I'd lost count of how many times I'd squirted in his face as his tongue worked on my mani and my pussy; and on that sensitive bit between my pussy and my ass hole. Until today, I hadn't cum since before my husband's death 8 years earlier and today it had been non-stop for the last half hour.

If I really wanted him to stop, I could have pulled his hair or something; he was making me light headed and it felt like my pussy was on fire. I clamped my legs against his head and rode the wave of another orgasm; squirting into his open mouth.

He stopped and looked up at me, grinning. This gorgeous man was laying on the duvet in a puddle of my juices and it was the sexiest thing I'd ever experienced. Until this evening I didn't know that I could do that. I was mortified when it happened. I thought I'd lost control of my bladder but he just kept going like it was the most natural thing ever.

I loved my husband but Filipino men aren't the most enlightened of lovers when it comes to a woman's needs and I'd never experienced anything like this. It was a long time after his death before I had sex again and then it was just to survive; to be able to keep my job; to be able to eat.

He pulled the duvet out from under me and threw it on the floor. Grabbing my ankles and pulling, he sent me form sitting up to laying on my back with him between my legs. His cock looked amazing. I hadn't really gotten a good look until now. He'd gone down on me as soon as I took my panties off and I had nothing to compare his cock to. I'd read that white men were naturally bigger but this was my first time seeing a cock like his. It was long but what really amazed me was how thick it was.

I thought he was getting ready to fuck me and I started to protest. My pussy was still on fire. He put a finger to his lips and I stopped. Instead of fucking me, he began to massage my left foot! I'm a 49 year old woman who spends 12 hours a day standing. Nobody had ever done this for me before. I wanted to cry but instead I just laid there gazing at the look of concentration on his face and purred like a cat.

When I awoke he was gone. I must have dosed off as he kneaded the knots out of my calves. I was dimly aware of him stopping but I assumed he was taking a bathroom break.

***

I have quite a few business interests, mostly as an investor and all elsewhere in Europe so I largely let my uncle's business run itself for the first year.

One immediate change I did make was to replace the day-to-day management team. Someone had been taking a bribe to allow the prostitutes to operate and that had to stop. The park need improving and rebranding, so it made sense to hire an agency to make the improvements and also recruit a new manager.

The other immediate change I made was to raise the long term rents to 20% of the price visitors pay during the summer peak. My experience of working with the poor is that they need money. Low cost rents, etc are useful but to move ahead people need to be able to earn and save money.

The only work available in the areas was either at the holiday park or the poverty wages in the fish processing factory. In return for doing the manual labour of cleaning and maintaining the houses and the park itself, my uncle had allowed the factory workers to stay nearly rent free.

I decided it was more dignified to charge them a reasonable rent and pay them regular, individual wages throughout the year for their work around the park. I set the basic pay so that each person would have roughly an extra 500 krones in the pocket each month. Not much but enough to get them started.

***

The next time he came there was an urgency about him. If I'd been taller, I think he'd have pulled my leggings down and fucked me up against the wall the moment he'd hung his coat up.

I wish he had. Instead he pulled me upstairs to my bedroom and tossed be on the bed like I was a rag doll. There was a powerful, brutish lust to him that made me wet with anticipation.

The feeling of anticipation was quickly replaced with the real thing. He tore off his clothes and after a brief rummage found a condom in pocket of his discarded trousers. I watched as he ripped it open and rolled the condom down the length of his thick cock.

When he threw me on the bed I'd landed on my back and stayed there. Watching him and rubbing my hard nipples through my thin sweater. Now naked, he rolled me over on to my belly and grabbed hold of the waist band of my yoga pants; succeeding in pulling them most of the way down in one movement. Life is never like this in the movies and it took him another two attempts for him to get my leggings completely off.

My panties rolled halfway down my fat thighs with my legging but instead of pulling them off, he pulled them back up so the material was uncomfortably wedged in the crack of my ass. Presumably satisfied I was sufficiently undressed, he put his right arm around my waist and lifted me up so that I was on my knees. I propped myself up on my elbows, not wanting to be smothered by the duvet.

Letting go of me waist, he ran his soft, warm hands slowly up my back, pushing my sweater up towards my shoulders. When his fingers reach my bra, he undid the strap. His fingers felt hot against the cold skin on my back but lost their apparent warmth as they glided around my sides and reached the warm underside of my boobs. I'm ticklish when I'm aroused and the combination of his fingers working to free my boobs and my bunched up panties rubbing on my mani made it impossible not to giggle.

He didn't seem to mind. His cock prodded against my ass as he cupped my boobs and pinched my nipples. There was a delicious feeling that he was toying with me. He wasn't rough but he was definitely doing this for his own pleasure. As wonderful as it felt to me, he was mauling my boobs because it felt good to him.

His hands left my boobs swinging free under my sweater and went to the waistband of my cheap cotton panties. The panties were years old and no match for his need to demonstrate his desire to fuck me. He ripped the waist band on both sides, balled them up and tossed them on the bed in front of me; the way they smelt told a story of manual work and my utter arousal.

With my panties gone, he just drove is cock hard into my pussy and began fucking me with quick, deep stokes; at the end of each stroke his balls slapped against me.

He pulled me closer. His fucking getting harder and faster, making my boobs swing painfully against each other. My knees were almost off the bed and the wooden bed frame was digging into my shins but I didn't want to move. My hands clawing the duvet to stop myself slipping further.

His pace slowed slightly and I felt a finger brush against my ass hole. I've never had sex like that. I was curious when I was younger and fingered it myself but my husband never showed any interest. His wet finger pushed inside, not deep, up to the knuckle, maybe? My curiosity returned.

I need to cum. His urgent fucking felt wonderful but it wasn't going to get me off, despite my best attempts to wiggle into a better position. I was going to have to do it myself. Reaching back, I fingered my mani with the same urgency he was fucking me. I doubted he'd last much longer.

Face down in the duvet, I found what I was searching for: an orgasm that rolled through me like a tidal wave; spraying all over his balls as I squirted. My senses were still returning when I heard an animal-like grunt and felt his cock twitch as he filled the condom. I wanted it to be me and not the condom that was full of his cum.

After a few more slower stokes he stopped and pulled out the finger that was plugging my ass hole. He stood there for a couple of minutes; breathing hard from the exertion whilst his cock soften and slowly slipped out of me.

I rolled on to my side and rubbed my empty pussy whilst he went to clean up. I heard him drop something in the bathroom bin and then the sound of him peeing in toilet. He came back still covered in sweat and smiled. He had that look that men get after they're done with with sex.

Part of me wanted to put my arms around him and cuddle him like a lover but the part of me that knew this was about lust and money restrained me. So I lay there still slowly rubbing my pussy whilst he dressed. Once he was finished, he gave me a kiss on my head, said thank you and left.

Later, I found he'd left me a 3-pack of H&M panties with a note saying they were to replace the ones he'd destroyed. And a gift of electric blue lingerie, again from H&M but more expensive and more feminine.

I didn't mind. He was clean, generous and had been respectful so far and this way I could send more money back to the Philippines to pay off my family's debts.

***

After the first summer, I had sufficient confidence in the revenue model to move ahead with updating the older parts of the park. All of the new houses and cabins are well insulated by modern standards and are fitted with heat pumps and most are also fitted with solar panels. The stugas in comparison needed to be insulated against the heat as well as the cold and to have heat pumps installed. The majority of them are in small clearings over shadowed by tall pines which makes solar a poor choice.

My deal with the company installing the heat pumps was that they should train two of the residents to fit and maintain the pumps as part of the contract. This made good economic sense as the park would eventually have more than 150 devices installed. It would also provide two people with useful, transferable skills.

My proposal didn't go down well with the company that had done the 80 previous installations. Their perspective was that there was too much paperwork and too much additional effort involved in employing non-native speakers. In the end, I employed them on the park's payroll and sub-contracted them to the installer with an agreement to provide a translator, if necessary. It wasn't.

***

The next time he visited, I was propped up on the sofa with a splitting headache caused by a shoulder strain I'd gotten at the factory. The last thing on my mind was sex. I didn't want to tell him no, men rarely react well to being turned down.

He came in with a woman I'd never seen before. A slim Scandinavian with strawberry blond hair, glasses and a weather beaten face characteristic of many of the middle-aged local women I'd met. He introduced her as Inga and explained she was a physiotherapist and that her services were part of my employee health benefits.

He chatted a little, asking what had happened and explaining how people had become worried after I missed three language classes in a row. He asked if there was anything else I needed. In a weak voice, I replied that there really wasn't, he seemed satisfied and left.

Inga asked me lots of questions and then poked and prodded me before finally helping me with some stretching exercises which greatly relieved my pain. After she left I had the best nights sleep I'd had in more than a week.

Inga visited me for the next couple of days to work on my shoulder, encouraging me to talk whilst she worked. She talked about how talking this job was a way to put distance between her and an abusive boyfriend and I told her about my husband and how his death left his family with impossible debts. As she explained it, her job wasn't supposed to have started until the spring and she's been only too happy to start early when the park manager had called her at the beginning of the previous week.

The following Monday she brought a portable massage table with her and gave me a wonderful deep tissue massage. It had been nearly two weeks since I'd been able to work and I cried with relief when she told me that she thought I was able to go back to work the following day.

***

The improvements to the stugas took the better part of a year to complete and by the end we had properties with modern interiors and that were cheaper and easier to maintain and operate.

We also had a larger, more experienced crew to carry out the maintenance. The two heat pump technicians were hired full time by the park which gave them and their families improved pay, better job security and more sociable working hours.

It had now been the better part of two years since I'd inherited the park. Sales were up. Revenue was up. We were running at a hefty loss but that was due to the ongoing investments in the park infrastructure. And we had a healthy group of semi-permanent residents on the payroll for me to exploit.

I have a broad and varied range of sexual appetites. I'm bi-sexual though I'm strictly top and generally seek out women my own age or older. Though this is getting harder now I'm in my mid-40s. On the whole, I prefer fat-bottomed, Caucasian women with big natural tits who enjoy anal sex, have some pussy hair and enjoy me going down on them.

I'm also easily bored and need variety which is why the idea of having 10s of people I can use for sex whenever and wherever my mood takes me is so appealing. A private smorgasbord of sexual fantasies and depraved desires for me to snack on. Turning up unannounced and fucking someone's wife whilst she's having dinner; or gatecrashing a couple having sex and having to decide who to fuck first; or stopping at the nearest house to use someone' as a human toilet because I need to pee.

Alongside a genuine desire to help people build a better life, these were the fantasies and worse that had been driving me for the last couple of years. Those fantasies were now almost within reach.

***

It was weeks before he returned. The two times we'd had sex it had been great for me and I found myself wishing for him to visit again. So much so that I'd begun experimenting with stretching my ass hole. I told myself it was so I'd be ready for him but it was me that wanted it.

I knew he was paying me but my other experiences of being rewarded for sex were all unpleasant. This felt different. Having to fuck in a filthy storeroom to keep a job you need in order not to starve is traumatic. It's rape: you have no choice. With him it wasn't about survival, I had a choice.

Laying in bed, in the lingerie he bought me, exploring my virgin ass with my fingers and imagining him pushing inside me; I felt more like a mistress than a prostitute. I felt wanted in a way I hadn't for a long time. That was a powerful feeling.

I'd gotten a glimpse of him through his office window as I passed on my way to get the bus, so I knew he was back at the park. That night I put on his blue lingerie and looked at myself in the mirror, trying to see with his eyes. I couldn't see it. All I could see was me: a chubby, old Filipina with saggy boobs, a fat tummy and thick rimmed glasses. My boobs were squeezing out over the top of the bra, the waist band of the panties were stretched tight over my fat hips and there were hairs poking out around them.

I could have cried but instead I stood in the tiny bathroom and took a pair of nail scissors to my bush. Then I got in the shower, unscrewed the shower head and washed out my ass hole as best I could.

He didn't come that night. I slept in his underwear and in the morning I hand-washed them and hung them to dry before running for the bus.

I arrived home exhausted and hopeful. I showered and gave myself another makeshift enema before putting on his lingerie and making myself look as nice as I could. I fell asleep fantasising about him. Again he didn't come.

I had an early shift the next morning, so there was no time to wash the underwear.

When I returned home, the underwear was laid out in the bathroom where I'd left it. The blue of the material contrasting with the white of the tiles. A light coloured stain clearly visible on the crotch of the panties. I had just enough time to wash off the stink of fish before heading back out for my class.

I walked back home an hour and a half later feeling disappointed. I hoped that I'd see him at the community centre but his office was empty. I felt empty too. A part of me wanted to throw his underwear in the bin in protest but instead I undressed and stepped into the shower. He hadn't made me any promises. The way I was feeling was all of my own doing. I was about give myself the third makeshift enema in three days because I wanted him to fuck my ass. Not because he'd asked me too. He was paying me but I wanted this. I wanted him.

I dried myself off, dressed and fixed my makeup. Just lipstick but that was more than I'd done for years until this week. I sat down to eat and began looking at the messages from my family.

He arrived just as I was washing the dishes.

I needn't have worried about the stain on my panties. They were wet before he had his boots and coat off. I didn't know what to do. Should I hug him? Should I stand here like a statue and wait for him? What would he want me to do? I didn't know. All of this passed through my mind in the time in took him to take off his snow boots and walk the 4m to where I was standing dish cloth in hand.

He wrapped his arms around me and stooped to nuzzle my neck: "I need to pee."

He went to the toilet and I followed not wanting to let him out of my sight.

Unzipping his trousers, he stood looking down at the toilet, holding his cock and waiting for the pee to start flowing. I've no idea why but I reached out my hand and pushing his away said, "I can do that." His cock felt soft. He started to pee and I aimed it down. This was another first. I'd always wondered what it would be like to pee standing up with such ease but I'd never held a man's cock like this before.

He put his hand over mine and shook the drips from his cock. I went to kneel down but he pulled me back to my feet and smiled at me, "Not here."

He zipped his trousers back up and squeezing past me, he took my hand and pulled me into the living room. The blinds were still open, so he nudged me on to the sofa. I just sat there with a silly grin on my face whilst he closed them. My panties were so wet I was worried it would look like I'd peed myself.

"That's better," he said sitting down, "now where were we?" It was a rhetorical question. The words had barely left his lips before those same lips were on mine. His first few kisses were gentle; his stubble was soft against my face and he smelt nice. He had the smell of a confident man. A less confident man would have smelt of shower gel, toothpaste or at least fresh clothes. In contrast, he had the faint smell of the eau de toilette that he'd applied this morning and the equally faint smell of a man who had worn the same clothes all day.

There was an urgency to his kisses. He had a hand on the back of my head, his fingers knotted in my hair to keep me from escaping. That was the furthest thing from my mind. I opened my mouth a little, my tongue waiting for his.

The tip of his tongue brushed my top lip and began its lazy exploration. Visiting each tooth in turn, lingering when it found the tooth I'd chipped "walking into a wall". It's procession complete, his tongue sailed into the trap I'd set. My tongue met his head on and meeting little resistance push it back deep into his mouth. With my hand on the back of his head, I pulled him to me and kissed him as hard as I knew how.

Perhaps not entirely consciously and certainly not nearly as coherently as it is with hindsight but I doubted that he would have chosen a tired, middle-aged Pinay if he wanted a passive sex doll. I'd almost forgotten what it was like to kiss like that. We bumped teeth a couple of times but we didn't fully come up for air until it became clear we were overdressed.

He'd long since let go of my hair and having fumbled his way past unzipping them, had both his hand inside my jeans; his fingers digging into my ample butt. I was enjoying the feel of his hair between my fingers and his hands on my ass; and at some point I started clawing at his shirt with my other hand. Trying to dig my fingernails into his shoulder: the factory insisted we keep out fingernails short, so his were probably longer than mine.