My mother couldn't stop chattering all the way to the airport. On the spur of the moment, we'd booked a bargain three-night mini-break at a hotel on the Costa Blanca, and Mum was bubbling with excitement. She kept talking about what we'd do and wondering about the hotel - I think she'd memorized all the brochures and leaflets she'd collected at the travel agents, and after having to listen to her I think I pretty well knew them off by heart, too.
She was already dressed for the warm Spanish weather: she was wearing a short, thin flowery sun dress with a halter neck that left her back, arms and shoulders bare, as well as revealing a generous amount of cleavage. On the train we sat on sideways-facing seats, and at first Mum kept trying to tug her dress down over her bare thighs, but it was a hopeless struggle - it didn't help that she kept wriggling round to talk to me, and after a while she gave up. I saw the way men kept staring at her legs and trying to look down the front of her dress, and I couldn't decide whether it made me angry or proud.
It was the same on the aircraft - we were packed in like sardines, and Mum was jammed in between a man in the window seat and me on the aisle, and I saw him constantly looking sideways at her. She was still chattering constantly, and perhaps she didn't notice that her skirt was dragged up even higher than on the train, but then I saw him reach for something under his seat and manage to brush his hand against her bare leg. I glared at him and took her hand protectively - or was it possessively? - and now it was my hand that was resting on her soft warm thigh. I, too, found myself glancing at her cleavage as I pretended to stare out of the window, but Mum didn't notice that either.
We were met at the airport by the minibus from the hotel, and once again we had to sit very close together, and this time I had the view of her legs and the valley between her breasts all to myself.
When we arrived at our destination, I waited for our bags to be unloaded from the minibus while Mum went into the hotel to register - she spoke a little Spanish, and was anxious to practice her linguistic skills. But when I saw her in the foyer, she was frowning angrily.
'Darling - there's been some mistake about our reservations! I booked rooms for Mrs Wainwright and Mr Wainwright, but they've got us down as Mr and Mrs Wainwright, in one double room. The hotel is full, and they can't change it, and its a double bed, and they can't even give us a camp bed!'
'Never mind, Mum, there'll be a sofa or an armchair or something, and I can sleep on that,' I said, trying to sooth her, but she continued to fret over the mix-up.
When we got up to the room she quietened down a little - there was a small balcony and a marvellous view over the swimming pool and on down to the sea, and she pronounced herself satisfied with the bathroom. But there wasn't a sofa, only a small chair without arms and an even smaller one at the desk-cum-dressing table.
The double bed wasn't overly large, but I told Mum we'd manage somehow, and she cheered up a bit when we went out onto the balcony to admire the glorious sunset. She took my hand and said how wonderful it was, and she wasn't going to allow a silly mistake to spoil our holiday, and again I managed to admire her breasts.
We unpacked and Mum took a shower while I looked down at the people in and around the pool - many of the women were topless, and I enjoyed myself staring at a profusion of naked breasts. Mum came out of the bathroom with a towel held round her body, and my day's collection of sightings of female flesh was added to when I got a glimpse of her bare bottom as I went to take my turn in the shower.
I spent a long time letting the water beat down on me, rubbing my cock and thinking about the quantity of feminine skin I'd seen - and in the case of my mother, sometimes felt - since we left home. I was tempted to masturbate; I wished I had a room to myself where I could have wandered around naked, playing with myself, but it didn't seem right to masturbate with my mother just the other side of the bathroom door.
So I dried myself and went out into the bedroom, to find that Mum had changed into a dark blue, but equally revealing, dress for the evening. She went out onto the balcony while I got dressed, trying to control my erection, and then we went down to have a drink by the pool before dinner.
Once again I saw my mother getting admiring glances, but I had plenty of other skimpily dressed girls and women to admire myself, and Mum didn't seem to mind being stared at, judging by the way she frequently crossed and re-crossed her bare legs. Anyway, she was certainly back in a good mood again. It improved even more when we went in to dinner and discovered that the food was very good, with a nice selection of local wines.
There was even a small dance floor with a good trio playing a lot of old standards, and Mum managed to persuade me to dance with her a few times. Once again I was very conscious of her body as I held her close, and being able to look down her dress at her bra-less breasts didn't help to keep my erection under control.
We took a long time lingering over dinner, and then strolled down to the beach to get some air, at first holding hands, and then I put my arm round Mum's waist, and she rested her head on my shoulder as we walked - once again, I had a good view of her breasts.
Back at the hotel, we had a drink at the poolside bar, and now it was my mother's legs, not her breasts, that were displayed for my arousal - we sat on loungers facing each other, and her dress was even higher up her thighs than it had been earlier, and I surreptitiously studied her long bare legs and feet. She crossed her legs, and I wondered whether she was wearing panties, or was completely naked under her dress. It was too dark on the patio to see for certain when she re-crossed her legs yet again, lifting her knee high when she did so, but if she was they were skin-coloured, and I doubted it.
After talking idly for half an hour, with me feasting my eyes the whole time, we decided to have an early night, and went up to our room. Somehow we played musical chairs in sharing the bathroom, and managed to get undressed as modestly as possible. I always only wore pyjama bottoms, but when I saw my mother come out of the bathroom in her nightdress I couple hardly stop myself from gasping - it barely reached the tops of her thighs, and it was so low-cut it could hardly contain her breasts. When she bent to climb into bed it was even worse - her swaying breasts became completely visible.
I stuttered a goodnight, and and Mum leaned over me as we gave each other a brief kiss, her soft breast resting against my arm, and then we settled down to try to sleep. I was painfully aware of my mother's half-naked body only inches away, but she seemed totally unconcerned, and soon I heard her breathing slowly, lying on her side facing away from me. But during the night she seemed to keep moving around, and I felt her body pressing against me. The bed was too small to move away from her, but I tried to turn her over and gently push her away.
I succeeded for a time, but then I woke up to find that she was cuddled against me, with one leg thrown across my thighs. I felt her breasts pressing against my bare chest, and realised that I could feel a wet patch on my pyjama trousers where my mother's naked vulva rested against my leg. Once again I managed to turn her over, but she just snuggled back against me - her nightdress had ridden up around her waist, and now my rigid cock was jammed against her bare bottom. I put my arm round her, unable to resist cupping her yielding breast in my hand, but she didn't wake up, and eventually I, too, fell asleep.
The next morning we did our now familiar in-and-out act with the bathroom, and went down to have breakfast by the pool. Afterwards we went in for a swim, and then stretched out to sunbathe. Mum looked around at the other sun-worshippers.
'I think I'm a little overdressed,' she said.
All she had on a miniscule yellow bikini, but to my astonishment she removed the top and let it fall to the ground. I stared at her naked breasts, fascinated, and then watched as she proceeded to rub them with sun-tan oil - I could hardly believe it as I saw her nipples stiffen as she stroked herself, smiling at me.
After a while she rolled over onto her stomach, and asked me to put oil on her back. I sat beside her on the sun bed, and started to rub oil on her body. I massaged it into her shoulders, and then worked my way down over her back, allowing my fingers to brush the sides of her naked breasts. Her bikini bottom consisted of little more than a thong, which disappeared completely between the cheeks of her bottom, and I found myself kneading them, sometimes slipping my fingers into the crack. When I worked on the backs of her thighs, I grew increasingly bold, and let my hands wander between her legs, touching the scrap of material that was all that covered her sex.
We spent the morning sunning ourselves, occasionally going for a swim in the pool, and then lazing in the sun again. I applied sun-tan to my mother's body several times, and she did the same for me. Once, I couldn't help turning over, to see her beautiful breasts swinging above me as she leaned over me, and I draped a towel across my loins in an attempt to hide my erection.
Then she suggested we had an early lunch before it got too busy. As well as the poolside bar they'd brought out a buffet table laid out with food, and we helped ourselves and sat at the bar and ordered drinks.
The bar stools were bolted to the ground, very close together, and as we ate and drank our arms and legs constantly brushed against each other. We ordered more drinks, and my mother decided she wanted more salad. As she got to her feet and turned to move away from the bar, her naked breasts pressed against my bare arm for a brief moment, and then again when she returned to her stool with her refilled plate.
As we sat there it was all I could do to stop myself from putting my arm round her and stroking her body, but finally she solved the problem by saying she'd had too much sun and too much wine, and was going up to the room for a nap. I sat for a while, finishing my beer, and then I, too, made my way up to the room.
My mother was lying on her back under the sheet, apparently fast asleep. I took a quick shower to rinse off the oil on my body, then went back into the bedroom with just a towel around my waist. I hesitated for a moment, then dropped the towel and slid naked under the sheet beside her. I couldn't sleep, despite all the sun and having had a restless night, but just lay there, also on my back, thinking about the sight of my mother's body, and how her bare breasts had brushed against my arm at the bar.
