No Particular Place To Go

This is a love story -- not an out-and-out fuck-up!

So please don't expect screwing from the start -- it doesn't happen until a lot later.

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For years I'd cursed my dad for giving me the gene that made my hair turn silver so early! It was totally unfair that my temples were silver, well grey really, even as soon I turned the big 4.0. So many of my friends still had heads of black, brown or even red hair -- even my mother had a good head of auburn hair and here was me at 42 with large swathes of silver. Oh well, at least I wasn't going bald -- at least that didn't run in the family!

And then, rather to my surprise, after a year or two of possessing silver locks, I noticed that I'd become a crumpet-magnet -- the girls were all flocking around me.

Mind you, I guess that as a very successful sales executive with only an amicably divorced ex-wife with no children in tow, I was a fair catch -- had I chosen to be caught again. I was a little over 6 feet tall, I weighed a steady 168 pounds and I was about as fit as I'd ever been -- those days I could afford to work out regularly....and it paid off. I even showed off a good tan -- a real one gained from tropical sun as the result of prize holidays that I'd won. With the proverbial "Good Sense of Humour" and 8 inch penis I was a shoe-in for a personal ad!

That's not to say that I hadn't had loads of girlfriends but they'd been just that -- friends to go out with and to fuck -- and then to get bored with. I'd had the one good relationship but once we'd married things went pear-shaped as our two careers separated and within eighteen months we'd just lost interest in each other, I think.

But there was no way that I needed to advertise, now that I possessed my greying hair.

My Mum summed it up one day.

"You come over as a sugar daddy!" she said, somewhat to my amazement, as I didn't really think that she even knew the phrase, "You're good husband material."

'Oh no -- I'm not, am I?' I thought, 'Last thing I want to do is to get married again!'

"You think so?" I asked, somewhat incredulously, "Is that what they think?"

"Course it is," she said, "You're old enough; you're financially secure and you're ripe to settle down with. You're past the gadding-about phase.....I don't suppose you even go clubbing nowadays, do you?"

"No way," I said, not entirely sure whether to be relieved or worried, "I prefer a peaceful meal and some nice surroundings for my evening out and I gave up coming in at four in the morning ages ago."

"See," said Mum wisely, "Ideal husband. You'll make a good hubby for someone sometime."

"Not if I can help it!" I said with a laugh, because although the idea of settling down again wasn't alien to me, I just wasn't ready -- or perhaps I just hadn't found the right girl.

Whatever, I was seldom alone at night, except by choice. But now the girls were more like women; more mature and sensible -- and most of them actually had fantastic bodies too. There's a certain something about a lovely mature woman -- perhaps they become motherly to you; they appreciate the cuddles and hugs and caresses; they enjoy the words and the actions and the love-making. Because now, instead of just fucking them senseless, I found that I was making love to their bodies -- appreciating their curves, folds and creases in ways that I'd never considered before.

And I was finding it harder to say 'goodbye' too. These women were as desirable to me as I was apparently desirable to them and it was always really hard to end a relationship. No, I didn't have that many relationships during that period but those I did have were far more rewarding than the friends-with-benefits I'd enjoyed before.

There was one particular female who nearly won me over! Sheila was someone I'd met and exchanged phone numbers with and one day she rang me, so I took her out. I'm no good at describing people so all I can say is that she had gorgeous honey-blond sweeping locks of hair; a sweet heart-shaped face with such kissable lips; breasts to die for; an hour-glass waist and nicely broad hips which encompassed one of the hottest pussies I'd ever come across!

Sheila was hot stuff -- how the fuck she hadn't been snared before I just didn't understand.

There was just something about the way she so slinkily shed her clothes -- they just shimmied off her without effort! Her body was lithe and sensual; she could just lie on the bed and look utterly fuckable! And fuck her I did -- time after time! She was as good as made for my eight inch penis which sank to the hilt inside her within minutes of the first time we made it to the bed.

Effortlessly we fucked for hours; both of us cumming time and again; drowning the bed, soaking our bodies and filling the air with sex.

There was only one problem, if I could call it that. She was 30 while I was 42 -- well that wasn't a problem at all, but the real problem was that she was completely insatiable! Now normally I wouldn't have complained because the relationship would have just run it's course until we parted, but somehow this lady was just too good to let go! And to complicate matters, my time was about to be stretched about as far as it could, as I'll explain.

My dear father chose this time to come down with cancer -- an incurable tumour which hadn't thrown up any symptoms until it was too late. Obviously it wasn't his fault, but I guess I felt it was because he was supposed to be there to be with Mum as a husband for life. They gave him just months -- only just long enough to set his affairs in order before his body betrayed his strength and he became an invalid just waiting to die.

Naturally I spent as much time as I could with my parents although to be honest, there wasn't much I could do. Care nurses called on him on and off all day and I'd find myself being in the way rather than being of help, so I tended to try to look after my Mum most of all. And in that I was helped in that I'd never got on with my dad really -- I was too flighty and happy-go-lucky for him and I had no love for his bookwork, figures and other such dull and boring subjects. And therefore, over the years I'd gravitated towards my Mum and when I'd visited them, it had been to give a perfunctory 'hello' to dad and then to spend the rest of my visit with my mother.

My mother, Pamela, was a good strong woman but under the circumstances even she was going to need some help, so I 'cleared the decks' of my girlfriends, including the lovely Sheila, so that I'd be ready and able to provide assistance at a moment's notice. I can't admit that the parting went down too well but so far as I was concerned, family came first and foremost. I'm pleased to say that my bosses understood (better than Sheila did actually) and were most helpful, allowing me as much time off as I needed.....just so long as my key accounts weren't neglected, of course.

To cut out the gory bits, my father died pretty well when they said he would and he was buried without great ceremony, as he'd wished.

And Mum was left all alone, to rattle around in their four-bedroom detached house. The poor woman really was on her own -- their house was in a private lane and their nearest neighbours were several hundred yards away....and then they only used their house in the summer.

So she needed pretty well as much help as I could offer for a while, although she had a variety of bereavement 'counsellors' and other after-care helpers....but they weren't the same as a partner or husband.

But at least I could deal with the rather excessive paperwork that my dad had left behind; I was able to sort out his finances, (which fortunately turned out to be in good shape) and I was able to spend a week of my holiday time painting the house -- I did my bit, in other words.

In time, Mum settled down and before I knew it her social life was up and running -- and now she was actually being more active than she'd been before dad died. I was well pleased......Mum was now a pleasure to go and visit, now she'd come out of her shell.

So one weekend, I opted to spend it with Mum for a change -- partially to see how she was getting on, partially because I quite enjoyed being with her and partially down to a sense of familial duty and on Friday evening, together we settled down to dinner and a nice bottle of wine. I can't remember what we ate -- something Mum cooked, but it was almost certainly enjoyable!

Afterwards we meandered through to the lounge and draped ourselves over the chairs with the remains of the wine to finish.

Mum, as usual, got the conversation rolling.

"Do you know darling," she said to me, smiling, "I just don't know where I'd have been without you; you've been an absolute rock."

"Only doing what I should do," I said, "You needed me, so I was here."

"Well, you've been a godsend," she said, "But I was wondering if there was something else you could do for me?"

"Yeah -- sure," I said, "What's that?"

"Weeeeell," started Mum, a bit hesitantly, "When your dad was alive, when we had a bit of spare time, we'd go off for a drive -- we'd pack a few things and just head off. Sometimes the mood never got hold of us and we'd be back within hours but other times we'd just drive and drive, with no particular place to go. And when we stopped, we'd enjoy the moment; enjoy the place we were at....and then, the next day, we'd drive on again."

"Sounds like a nice way to spend a few days," I suggested, "Just so long as you could suggest some out-of-the-way places to visit."

"Oh, there are always those kind of places in Britain and often not that far away.....so I was wondering if I could ask you a favour and perhaps take me for a drive like that, some weekend," she said.

"Go this weekend if you like," I said blasély, "I brought an overnight bag and the weather isn't bad, so why not!"

"Oh Peter, that would be lovely!" said Mum, her eyes bright and shining with suppressed tears, "I've got over your dad's death but I'll never forget those outings -- it would bring back so many happy memories."

And so, for the next couple of hours, we set up a kind of itinerary -- not so much a route as an idea about which way we'd head off and we agreed that we'd leave in the morning after breakfast.

"Let' try for a two day outing," said Mum and I agreed in principle.

"Where will we stay?" I asked, "We'll need two rooms and there aren't that many hotels off the beaten track, are there?"

"We won't need a big place and we don't need two rooms -- you and I can share a double," she said, "So long as I can put up with your snoring!"

"Do not!" I retorted.

"Yes you do -- but so did your dad and I soon got used to him," she said cheerfully.

"Huh!" I said, "And this room....what am I then, your toy-boy?"

"That's the great thing about your hair," said Mum cheerfully and with a wink, "It makes you look that bit older -- you could even pass as my husband!"

Perhaps with the knowledge that Mum was happy, I slept well and was wide awake and raring to go almost at the crack of dawn! And since I was up early, I busied myself by getting our breakfast things all set -- then I quietly sat down with a glass of orange juice, to await Mum's rising.

I'm not sure if it was a good idea or not -- but once breakfast was set up, I'd retired into a deep comfy chair which was in an alcove between the breakfast room and the lounge -- and there I stayed, quietly awaiting Mum's arrival.

Which is why I'm not sure if I did the right thing......because eventually, well, about half an hour later, Mum came down and somewhat shocked me.

Obviously she was still clearing the overnight fuzz from her brain and equally obviously she didn't spot me because she was wearing a remarkably see-through nightie over a pair of diaphanous pink panties with just a shortie bed jacket over the top. I'm sure she would have covered up a lot more had she thought that I'd be 'waiting' for her.

Now at 63, you'd have expected there not to be a whole lot to look at, but I was staggered! There, not fifteen feet from me, half turned towards me, was an incredibly hot woman's body! Mum's uncovered legs were so smooth and shapely and when she turned away, her arse hung nicely but without cellulite or droopiness. I couldn't really see from where I was if she had much of a waist -- well, I know she did -- but more importantly to me, she wasn't wearing a bra and her tits were amazing!

Mum had always been big-breasted and now I could see that it wasn't flabby fatness -- it was sheer top-quality breast tissue -- sheer volumes of big beautiful, bounteous breast, each topped by a meal on its own! Her nipples stood proudly atop her mounds, each one as big as the tip of my finger; each one fit to be chewed and sucked for ages.

It was all I could do to pull my eyes away -- and when I did so they only fell down to the cleft between her legs where once again I became captivated.

Her knickers were so sheer that they hid nothing -- and I mean nothing. Every one of her little golden hairs, that appeared to be manicured, could be seen through the gauzy material. The slightly split-apart lips of her pussy were there for my delectation and even her clitoris was peeking out as if looking for some attention!

I drew in a huge breath but otherwise kept still and silent. Wow! I shook my head just as I saw Mum swivel and head back upstairs.

"Peter!" I heard her call out, "Where are you? Are you in your room?"

Quickly I got up and moved down into the lounge where I went and stood by the patio doors. I silently opened them a little, realising as I did so that my penis had filled out considerably from the spectacle that I'd just enjoyed.

"Down here," I called out, "In the sittingroom."

Soon the patter of feet heralded her return, this time wearing a much more encompassing dressing gown.

"Hello darling," she said, coming over to me and giving me a squeeze and a peck on the cheek, "Didn't see you there."

"Just been outside," I lied, pulling the doors closed, "Nice morning."

"Aren't you a sweetheart, putting out the breakfast things," Mum said, "I miss having a man around to do that!"

I looked at her out of the corner of my eye but said nothing......

"Let's make the most of the nice weather then," said Mum, "I've packed a bag so as soon as I've had my bowl of cereal I'll be ready to go. You ready too?"

"Yep -- packed and ready!" I said, "I'm all yours."

It didn't take us long before we'd eaten, cleared up and had loaded ourselves into the car. And Mum had been economical with the truth when it came to "a bag" -- she'd packed a small suitcase!

"I always like to go prepared," she said, "Just in case."

Whatever that meant.....

As it was still 'term-time' the roads weren't packed as they would be once the holidays arrived and so we made good time in getting away from the town and cities and into the countryside and once we could get off the main roads we headed for the by-ways -- the back roads that only the locals used, we hoped.

Needless to say, my car was a bit flash -- as suited a top sales executive! A BMW 4 series convertible was mine, courtesy of the company and I loved it. And Mum obviously loved it too, especially with the top down! She sat there beside me and I had a feeling that she'd have loved to have been able to slide closer to me, but our bucket seats and belts held us firmly in place. Nevertheless, she seemed happy and content and was soon humming and singing along to a CD of 60s songs that I'd got.

Mum was wearing a pretty floral wrap-over skirt, with a wide belt and a loose-fitting blouse with buttons down the front and with her hair blowing around she looked so young and free. And every time I glanced at her she smiled back at me.....but I also noticed something else. The wind was catching in her blouse and billowing it about and as it did so large portions of her breasts were being displayed. I'm sure it was unintentional but it was doing nothing for my composure -- I've always been a breast man and her display was affecting parts of me normally reserved for my female conquests.

I tried to concentrate but my eyes kept being dragged back to her breasts and it was only a near accident at a sharp bend that made me keep my eyes on the road.

"Whoa!" said Mum as we squeezed past the tractor, "Careful!"

"Could do with a break perhaps," I suggested, "My eyes are a bit tired."

"Good idea," she said, consulting the map, "Let's see....if we keep heading down here and then take the next right, there's a lake down there about a mile or so -- there's bound to be a stopping spot."

And there was too; a nice little pull-in, complete with a little country cottage-style tea-room.

Mum clapped her hands with delight.

"How wonderful!" she said, "So sweet -- see, this is the kind of place your dad and I would find!"

We parked, got out and stretched our legs and having ascertained that the café was open, we wandered into the chintzy interior.

We were down in the West Country of England, not far from anywhere, but far enough off the beaten track for the place to be completely rural.....and it was lovely; so relaxing.

We downed a leisurely toasted tea-cake along with a cup of tea each and eventually decided that we'd take a walk around the lake. There was a nice wide lightly grassed path for much of the way and we walked side-by-side, almost silently with just the occasional comment about something we'd seen.

Then, some few minutes later, once we were out of sight of the cottage, Mum suddenly linked her arm in mine. Her hand held my arm and she pulled me towards her.

"This is lovely dear," she said, dreamily, "It's so romantic."

I looked at her abruptly.

"I mean, this is such a romantic little place," she spluttered, "I mean it's so lovely to be here with my man!"

I stopped walking and partially turned towards her.....

"Oh -- darling! You know what I mean," she said, still holding onto me, "This is the kind of place that your dad and I used to try to find and just being here with you makes me feel all romantic again."

"Ah -- so long as that's all!" I chided, "You're not a teenager now!"

"Hah -- just because we weren't youngsters for ever didn't mean we didn't enjoy ourselves sometimes!" said Mum, winking prodigiously at me, "I'd better not tell you what we got up to sometimes!"

"Might be interesting!" I said with a laugh, hardly expecting her to tell me, "Good for you thought!"

"Oh, those were the days," she said wistfully, "But that was exactly why we came out on these little outings -- to feel free and to rediscover some of our youth. And it worked -- that's how we kept in love all those years."

I put my arm round her waist and squeezed her to show my understanding.

"And then he got taken away from me", she concluded sadly.

"Oh Mum, look at the years you had together -- don't think of the ones you missed," I said, still holding her but now with both arms round her.

"I know," she said with a few tears in her eyes, "We were so good together."

She looked up at me as I held her and her arms came up and around my back.

"I know you're not your dad, but give me a kiss, darling," she said, holding her puckered lips up to me.

Kissing Mum was never a hardship -- we'd always been close that way -- none of those air- or cheek-kisses for us, so I leaned down and brought my lips to hers. A quick smack together and away -- but Mum had other ideas.

"No my darling boy, not like that, kiss me properly," she said, one hand now at the back of my neck.

I leaned down again and our lips met once more but this time her lips were wet and she pulled us tightly together. Before I knew it her tongue was exploring between my lips and probing inside my mouth and soon our mouths began working together; our tongues playing erotically with each other. For long moments we kissed before I realised that not only were our mouths firmly connected but our bodies were tightly pressed together as well!