It was Marjorie's idea that we go on holiday together,
"You're looking a little tired darling."
She was in her favourite position, stretched out on top of me with the entire length of my cock buried deep in her pussy. Every now and then she would half pull out of me and then fall back filling her again. It invariably gave her another orgasm and she cried out and the tears ran down her cheeks. You'd think something terrible had happened to her but this was how she loved to get her kicks.
I've been fucking Marjorie for ages, so who wouldn't look a bit knackered? (Yes, I know she's my Mother) It doesn't matter what I do. I always end up deep inside her at least twice a night. Usually even more. I don't know what prompted her to suggest a holiday together when my cock was buried in her pussy but Marjorie has a strange thought process.
It's not as if I have a massive cock, about eight inches long. Dad has been burying his into Marjorie for years without any detrimental effect or suggestions of vacations. Marjorie sighed in satisfaction, came again and pulled out of me and took me into her mouth.
Working quickly she emptied me down her throat and gargled in satisfaction. I gargled too, but speechlessly. She put her arms around me and comforted me on the loss of another bucket load of cum from my body and into hers. I'm amazed she never puts on any weight.
When my breathing normalised and I could speak again I asked her where we might go on holiday. She thought that Dymchurch might be nice. She and Dad had taken me there when I was little and we used to ride the miniature railway.
I looked it up later online and it's still going. It wasn't far from our house, about two hours by car so it was looking like the ideal venue; déjà vu, the little railway and sandy beaches. The thought of Marjorie in a bikini didn't bear thinking about and I tried not to think of it.
But I failed as usual, this woman had cock radar it seems. I was soon being drained of another cumload. So what's new?
I booked us into a nice hotel on the seafront and the internet entry said the food and service were good. The room looked comfortable and it wasn't any point in specifying single beds as the randy rat would have had them changed back to the King Size they had specified originally.
On Saturday, we set off for Dymchurch in the Falcon. There was plenty of room as we only had two suitcases, mainly comprising Marjorie's extensive range of swimwear which would make the Pope horny! I could see that if I needed to shelter from the sun, it was probably with Mum's bikini bottoms over my head. You wish!
It was a good job we didn't use condoms or I would have had to hire a trailer.
We arrived and were welcomed at the Hotel and we were on the first floor and had a balcony, which was lovely. The room was quite big as the hotel was an old twenties place "rejuvenated" and it had been done well. The King sized bed beckoned ("but not yet Marjorie"), the place was nicely carpeted with a writing desk, books in a bookcase, cupboards and all the stuff you'd expect from a comfortable hotel. We'd booked in for two weeks and I honestly wondered whether I was capable of surviving Marjorie's ardent attention for that long. We'll see.
Marjorie relaxed on the bed and read one of the number of pornographic books she'd brought for casual reading. As long as it didn't give her any ideas, I thought. But on reflection the authors had probably based their plots on her life anyway! One of the reasons I wanted to share this holiday with Marjorie is that I wanted to know a lot more about this beautiful woman who managed to get a scholarship to Oxford University, found new accommodation for her and her mother after being bombed out twice in the Blitz and sorted things out when her own Mother was killed in London by a V1. She also was provisioning the New Zealand navy ships in the Second World War in her early twenties. Mind you, she seduced George, put him on the straight and narrow and had me.
I enjoyed this room. It was comfortable and unlike our house in Granville Park, it was a cozy place to have a chat. Marjorie looked over her reading glasses at me,
"Why don't you pop out to the off licence and get us ingredients for a martini. We've got ice in the fridge and maybe you could score a couple of glasses from the bar on the way back."
This sounded an excellent idea so within half an hour I'd rounded up the ingredient and a couple of cocktail glasses from the bar. And some nibbles. While I was away Marjorie had set up a couple of comfortable chairs and a small folding table on the balcony and sat back quiet and relaxed while I put a jug of martini together an a bowl of seafood nibbles.
I served them sitting opposite her, poured the ice cold martinis into the glasses and passed one over to her and pushed the nibbles close to her.
She said, "Darling, this is superb and just being with you makes me happy. Tonight a couple of cocktails, a good dinner and a walk down the beach would be the perfect end to the day. I don't even feel horny today, believe it or not but a long sleep in your arms will be delicious." She opened her eyes wide and said, "but there's no guarantees after that!"
I said, "Tell me about when you were young, Marjorie. What was it like?" She looked into her glass and swilled the contents around. And thought.
She said, "I suppose there's no reason you shouldn't know, but it was pretty ordinary and happy. There were four of us of course, but they were much older than me, Ann and May had got married and moved away. You have to remember Andrew, that there was almost a thirty year difference between Ann the eldest and myself. So I basically grew up with my Mother and Doris. By then Dad had fallen to his death and we were real poor but as "Ma Devine" would shelter any crims on the run, we always had food on the table."
"I went to the local school, Bermondsey High or whatever and the education was very good there and got a scholarship to Oxford University. Mum nearly died of pride. So did I."
"Mr Tate was the first man to take my virginity. I was eighteen by then and curvy in all the right places. John was infatuated by me and took me to his room and fucked me all night. Poor man, he was useless at school the next day and whenever I put my arm up to answer a question, his erection was obvious to everyone."
"He was married of course and I think I knew it, but he was a considerate fuck Andrew and I've always thought about him nicely. Top up my glass darling, I'm talking too much, but it's nice."
I said, "Isn't it wonderful Marjorie, it's getting dark, but it's warm. Soon we'll have a romantic dinner together ("Romantic dinner Andrew!?") and we'll have a walk along the beach afterwards."
She said, "You are growing up fast Darling, I find it hard to recognise this virile, kind, tolerant man with the squally baby you used to be. I think me and Dad brung you up good!"
I kissed her gently and suggested we go down for dinner. Well, it was lovely; we both had the fish with the trimmings, the wait staff were friendly and attentive and gave us the impression that we were special. Which we were of course. After dinner, we walked hand in hand down the sandy beach and listened to the waves breaking gently with the tide and went to bed in each other's arms, quietly and without interruption.
I had survived our first day. It was lovely to be with Marjorie. Behind all the sex and the fact that she was my Mother it was a good start. When I woke up on Sunday, Marjorie was sorting through her clothes, mainly skimpy swimsuits and suggested we go to church this morning!
I replied that it was fairly unusual for a Mother and son, actively engaged in an intense sexual activity to be in a congregation of God-loving people. She looked at me, cocked her head on one side.
"You're quite right Andrew, Dymchurch is having a funny effect on me, let's fuck"