Unbelievable Holiday

Hello, my name is Patricia and I want to tell you an amazing story. I should keep it to myself really but it is so incredible I just have to share it with someone.

I am a widow of some six years. I have one daughter, Jane, who is married to Paul. They've been married for seven years, no children yet. This year, they invited me to join them on holiday to Turkey. Istanbul, in fact. I agreed as I felt particularly in need of a break from my routine and I fancied seeing the city's famous sites.

When we went through the arrangements which Paul had booked, I realised that our week away involved just one hotel room. When I gently queried this, it was explained that it saved a lot of money. We would share a family room with an en suite bathroom.

I just thought 'Well, we're all adults!' although I did wonder about their bedtime needs. Since they had got together it has been very obvious that Jane and Paul are - well - a highly sexed couple, lots of kissing, touching and sloping off to their bedroom. And it hasn't worn off this many years on. They still seem to be that way.

At an opportune moment I asked Jane about the bedroom sharing and their 'needs'. She assured me that they could manage without sex for a week. Despite my doubts, I left it at that, not wishing to intrude much more despite a degree of intrigue on my part. After all, I had seen Jane grow up. Her formative years included an early puberty with her breasts appearing at a very young age and soon growing to a substantial size. I taught her about the 'birds and bees' as her body was developing and it became necessary that she knew such things. I included explaining about masturbation to her as I preferred her to hear it from an adult rather than schoolgirl chatter. It was soon obvious to me that Jane became quite prolific at masturbating. I would sometimes hear her moans and gasps in the house. I inadvertently walked in on her more than once too, which we both handled quite well. In fact, the second time it happened, Jane didn't stop. By the time Jane went to University, I knew that she was having full sex - and a lot of it.

There was a succession of boyfriends and Jane codedly indicated to me which ones she chose to sleep with. She never told me the actual details and I would not ask - although I do admit that there were times when I wanted to ask her all about it. At university there was another succession of boyfriends. When I asked her why she couldn't find a steady boyfriend, Jane mischievously admitted to enjoying trying lots of different boys in bed. She teased me about the various sizes of penises she had experienced and joked about how she was looking for that perfect one - and it would need to be big! I foolishly asked her what she thought was big. She answered, not in so many words, but more by holding her hands at a distance apart to indicate the length she felt was big. When Jane saw my jaw drop, she laughed. I confided to her that I never knew that penises could be that big.

Anyway, back to my main story. We flew to Istanbul and got to the hotel quite easily. It was an old place, full of Turkish charm. They showed us to our room and I was thrilled by it as it was very big, with two large double beds set at right angles to one another. There was a sofa and coffee table, television and a unit with some tea and coffee things and some tasty biscuits. The bathroom was huge too with a bath and separate shower.

Our holiday started well. We had eaten at a nearby restaurant as we knew the travel had tired us and we would need an early night. I suppose we were a bit coy that first evening as we got ready for bed and we worked out our routine for getting changed, undressed and the bathroom.

Morning brought a bit more of the coy behaviour but we managed to avoid any embarrassments. We had a full day of site-seeing and some lovely meals. By that second night we were getting our routine properly established.

The next day I was wondering how their abstention from sex was going so in a private moment I asked Jane in a roundabout way. She assured me that it was fine. Paul wasn't complaining and she was okay. Besides, the busy days made us so tired, we were all ready for sleep as soon as we got into bed.

It was the fourth night of our stay and we had turned in at the usual time. Our meal had been very nice once again but I noticed that Paul had a few more drinks than on previous nights. He wasn't drunk but I remembered Jane telling me a long time ago that Paul can sometimes get frisky after a few drinks - not that she was complaining, she had added. Anyway, I lay there after all our books were put down and all our bedside lights were switched off. I listened to the hum of the city which was audible but not intrusive. For some reason, I didn't fall asleep as quickly as I usually do. I lay there, content to just recall our day and the lovely places we had visited and the interesting things we had seen and bought.

Then, about fifteen minutes after we had turned the lights out, I heard movement in their bed. In the dim light that the curtains leaked in from the city, I could see their bed-clothe swathed bodies moving. Then I heard an almost frantic whisper "Go down! Go down on me!"

It was Jane's voice. I could see that their bedclothes were now tented by her knees - and Paul's feet soon protruded from the end of the bed.

There was another flurry of bedclothes and I could see Jane's arms flail as she turned her duvet down off her chest. She wrestled her pyjama jacket open and exposed her breasts to the dim light. Her hands began caressing them and I saw her stretching her huge nipples rather erotically. Now, as I said, Jane is a big girl in breast terms, with quite pendulous 'D' or maybe 'DD' cup breasts, yet a narrow back. She can cause quite a stir in some of her outfits, especially bikinis. Her areolae are - well - huge, like small saucers, easily three inches across and I know that her nipples can become very prominent when erect due to the cold, so I'm sure it applies when she's aroused.

Right now the combination of her hands on herself and Paul between her legs under the bedclothes caused Jane to begin to moan and gasp.

I realised that although my expected response, like most mothers, was that I would be appalled, I actually wasn't. Far from it! To my amazement, I was aroused by it. Although I had not been with a man for the six years of widowhood, I do still get sexual feelings which I usually satisfy with my vibrator. Obviously, I had not packed it. I could hardly buzz myself to a climax in the same room as my daughter and son-in-law.

I lay there, watching Jane pleasuring herself via her breasts, no doubt very much assisted by Paul doing whatever between her legs and then as I lay there listening to her low moans, I realised I was becoming moist. I began imaging what Paul was doing with his tongue, forming erotic pictures in my mind.

My left hand found it's way through my pyjamas and cupped my breast - not as magnificent an orb as Jane's by any means but not in bad shape for my age - and my right hand slid down my side, across my pelvis and on to where I had become moist.

It is decades since I had masturbated by hand rather than by using my vibrator, that is. I wasn't sure I would do it or even if I could do it in the same room as the two of them. I just touched myself gently, detecting my arousal moistness and my very stiffened bud. I suppose if I am honest, I set my thumb and fingers in place to carry out the task even though I did not immediately commence it.

My eyes were drawn across to their bed again. From the sounds now, Jane was climaxing with all her fingers and thumbs pressed brutally into her breasts like the talons of an eagle on its prey.

Then there was some new movement. Paul's feet were disappearing back into the bed, his head emerged up over Jane's. I drew breath sharply as I watched Jane lick his chin and around his mouth. Then, to my utter disbelief, my nostrils scented Jane's arousal, her musky odours brought out from the bed on Paul's face. I chewed my bottom lip as though I was a child caught in a naughty act - yet the reality was that I found myself wanting to taste my own arousal. I had smelled it many times, I suppose, but my own reserve and my less than adventurous sex life with my husband had never extended to me tasting my own arousal. Oral sex by him had only happened a few times in our early years, probably after a drink or two too many or some form of male bravado. Oral sex by me had never happened as I never understood the point, particularly as it ends with the same basic result as my husband was getting in my body. Yet, even now, I had two fingers painted in my own arousal, taunting myself to bring them up to be tasted.

I heard Jane groan deeply and I surmised that she had just been penetrated by Paul. Sure enough, a steady repetitive movement in their bed could be heard. Jane changed her gasps to frequent breathy "Oh! Oh! Oh!". Now I felt certain she had been penetrated.

I watched the rise and fall of the bedclothes in the middle of their bed, between Jane's obviously widely spread knees. Something new and crude in my mind was now creating pictures of just what was going on in that bed, graphic images that I surprised myself with. I could hear the actuality of one of the participants. The other had just had his mouth directed to an erect nipple which he began stretching with his teeth now that his hand cupped the plump bulk of my daughter's breast.

By accident on the previous day, my emerging too quickly from the bathroom had given me an overly detailed viewing of Paul's body. The part of him that was now being so vigorous in my daughter had been dormant when I saw it, but it was still impressively large to my naïve knowledge of such things. Perhaps that accounted for Jane's gasps as I doubt that I ever made such noises during sex back in my younger days.

Something pushed me into deciding to go for it, to actually masturbate. Whether it was the live show pornography right by me or the aroma of sex that was filling the room or the realisation that my daughter was now sounding as though she was destined for her second orgasm, I can't be sure.

I do know that I slowly spread my thighs, raising my knees the minimum in an attempt at being discrete. My hand was already in position to commence my self-pleasuring. I moistened my thumb and drew it over my nub. I gave myself two fingers of penetration although truthfully I was again imagining what Jane was getting by way of penetration and, if I'm really truthful, I felt some jealousy. I somehow reminded myself that a sequence of many past boyfriends had the pleasure of her body, a lot of pleasure in some cases, and I was content for it to occur under my roof - even if I didn't particularly like on or two of the boys concerned. I preferred it to her having sex in some sordid setting. I suppose it could be that I was living vicariously through Jane at that time, imaging her naked writhing with a naked man in her bed, rapt in passionate sex.

I have only ever had one man. If I am honest, it was the lack of nerve rather than the lack of opportunity that had maintained that fact. Before I met my husband-to-be, I had a rather wary view of the young men I went out with. I certainly never let any of them have sex with me. I suppose my rather staid rules were that after going out for a certain length of time I allowed limited access to my breasts but certainly not revealing them. If the relationship lasted a few weeks longer I let the wandering hands into my knickers and I allowed a finger to penetrate. Despite the incessant urging on, there was no chance that I would perform oral sex on any of them.

To be frank, I was masturbating by that time in my early life, although seemingly I was a late starter. I was urged into it by my close friend, Kate, who to my embarrassment, insisted on showing me how it was done by making me watch her and then she made me try it right before her eyes. Despite the circumstances of her watching me, I admit that I climaxed very heavily in front of Kate, quite lost in the throes of my first ever orgasm. We did that a few times together after that but never to each other. I think that experience influenced my decision to tell Jane about masturbation at that early age.

During my marriage I very nearly strayed once when a man we had met on holiday contacted me afterwards. On the holiday, we had flirted a few times and I had enjoyed the attention. We arranged to meet and he very nearly seduced me. I suppose I had wanted to find out what sex with a different man would be like but my lack of nerve prevented me from taking the plunge. I'll admit that we kissed and we had a bit of a fumble. I held his aroused penis through his trousers and he caressed my breasts with his hand inside my bra but my courage failed before any clothes came off. Most of me had wanted to take the plunge, have sex with him, feel him penetrate me fully, caress me and pleasure me. But that bit of me that stops me from doing anything adventurous won the day and I stopped us going any further. I still wonder what it would have been like if I had let it go on. I suppose I regret the lost opportunity now.

Even as a widow, I still hadn't made that move, though. So, in certain respects I am envious of Jane and her comparatively large number of sex partners and of her very active sex life too.

However, back to my main story. There I was in the amazing situation of witnessing my daughter and her husband having gratifying sex and I'm about to masturbate for my own gratification. My fingers and thumb worked away on me. I was caressing my breast even as I watched Paul sucking Jane's lovely huge nipples. And Jane's cries of "Oh!" were thrilling me as well now. I heard them rising in a crescendo that was beyond her control. My eyes were locked on their writhing, his actions on her breasts, her head thrashing side to side. Suddenly she froze but Paul continued thrusting powerfully into her, grunting now as he did so. But, she had frozen with her face towards me, her eyes locked on me masturbating, moving on to lock directly onto my eyes. She still gasped out her pleasures, unable to stop, I suppose.

Even in the dimness and the ongoing frantic sex, we knew that we had both been rumbled - though I find it hard to believe that their animated sex would have been possible without waking me, had I even got off to sleep.

I suppose, in fairness, a daughter finding her mother masturbating in response to her having sex herself would be as shocking as a mother being aroused by seeing her daughter have sex. It was quite a situation.

Jane's cries slowed and calmed and Paul slowed too, though he had not climaxed yet, as far as I could make out.

I heard whispering and Paul seemed to display some shock in response to some of Jane's words. She then seemed to be stressing a point to him and to be blunt, I picked out the words "fuck" and "mum" and they were said as an instruction, not as an exasperated expletive. I also clearly heard "I really do want you to do it." There seemed to be some re-assuring and some cajoling as well as some deeply passionate kissing along with a resumption of some strong thrusts of his hips. I then heard "I'm gonna do it, it'll be so hot!" and these words came in a much deeper voice!

Then, as I watched, Paul raised his torso off Jane, extracting himself from her body in the process, I reckoned, picturing it in my new dirty mind. He rose off their bed and walked towards mine. He was sporting a massive erection, much, much longer and thicker than I recalled my husband's being. I looked into Paul's eyes as he bent to speak to me. In whispered yet firm tones, he said "Jane's sent me to give you some hard cock!"

I don't believe my face even flinched at his words, shocking though they were. My eyes temporarily left his and I saw Jane frantically nodding to me. Whilst Paul hadn't actually asked if I wanted to accept their offer, I answered by moving bedclothes aside to let him into my bed - beside me.

No words were exchanged now. Paul drew my pyjamas down over my hips, down my thighs and off my feet. I realised I was self-conscious of my thick dark untrimmed bush being so apparent even in the dim light of the room. Then I reasoned that Paul's very large and solid erection was much more clearly on view. In bed now, he used one of his feet to nudge my legs wider apart and he rolled on top of me. In awe, I acted on instinct and reached to my entrance. Using my first two fingers of both hands, I stretched myself open. He pressed to me and my fingers felt his erection slide by, into me. His penis was still slick from Jane, a fact that strangely caused a surge in my arousal.

I slowly received the widest and deepest penetration that I've ever had - from man or sex toy. Childbirth aside, nothing had ever been so big inside me or stretched me in such a way. I found that I was biting my lower lip once more, again as though I was in trouble, as his solid penis progressed wonderfully into my body. Paul lay his head beside mine and he began to slide in and out of me. It was divine. His rhythm was beautiful to experience. Coupled with the extraordinary size of his manhood which was majestic, I found myself experiencing something akin to magic.

I was soon feeling the wonderful effects of it all and I realised I was gasping aloud. My eyes flicked across to Jane and I realised that now she was masturbating avidly while watching us. I wrapped my arms around Paul's naked back, holding him closer to me and caressing his smooth skin. I felt a hand exploring my pyjama jacket, seeking out my breast. That large hand clasped my left breast and teased my nipple with thumb and forefinger. Part of me hoped for Paul to stretch and suck my nipples

I guess it took Paul less than three minutes to transport me to some sort of nirvana. And I cannot ever recall sensations like those that ripped through me from Paul's attentions. They were so strong, so electric, I was close to being stunned. I realised that the crying out I heard through my haze was actually coming from me. As my transportation to another world was inevitably reversed and I arrived back in that Istanbul bedroom, Paul began to slow. Due to my temporary 'absence', I was not really aware if he had climaxed. He released his grip on my breast and slowly withdrew from me. Even that felt awesome. I was so wet and he was so big, there was rather an awkward slurp from me down there.

Paul raised himself off me and off the bed and strode the two paces to Jane. She had thrown the bedclothes off her completely and was naked on the bed. He walked on his knees up the mattress as Jane raised her wide open thighs. Even in the poor light there was a glint off her moist intimate flesh. Paul drove into her with a brutish firmness and swagger that I would have loved for my entrance. After Jane's gasp from his entering thrust, she welcomed him back like the conquering hero that he clearly was.

As I revelled in my orgasmic aftershocks, I unashamedly watched my daughter and her husband continue their passionate sex. Jane climaxed again very quickly and once more not long after that. Only then did Paul go for his own satisfaction.

I heard Jane hiss "On my tits! On my tits!" and Paul reared up on his knees, still between her thighs. He stroked himself with his left hand, leaving me a clear view. I saw his stuff spurting from his handsomely-sized manhood, splashing onto her were she had demanded it to go. There seemed to be a lot of it, I thought. She caressed it all over her lovely big breasts. Now Paul's sex odours were added to those that had already flooded the room. He dropped back down onto Jane and spread his body over hers, I assume to share her stickiness. They pulled the bedclothes back over their spent bodies.