6 comments/ 98070 views/ 20 favorites Holiday Love By: Agnol "You better not let your mom treat me like shit this time," Debbie said while filing her nails. Her boyfriend Patrick just rolled his eyes as they sped down the interstate. The two hour drive from the university to his mother's home was close enough but the tension between his mother Janice and his girlfriend Debbie kept his visits short and infrequent. The only time he had brought home his brunette sex bomb of a girlfriend was for his father's funeral last spring, just before finals. His mother had clung on to him unnaturally in her grief and Debbie found the whole episode rather alarming. The silence filled the car as she recalled the events of that last trip. "If I didn't know better I'd think she was coming on to you," Debbie had warned him while they were speaking in the hall while his mother took a shower. The pair had barely a moment alone the entire trip, a fact that was starting to grate on Debbie's nerves and her libido. The funeral earlier in the day had been a grueling affair as Debbie sat next to Patrick and his mother who barely let go of him the entire day. Debbie was going to say more but before she could Janice appeared with a robe on and a towel around her head and insisting that the pair not sleep together in the same bedroom. Patrick only shrugged his shoulders as Debbie gave him an incredulous look as she was shuffled off to a downstairs bedroom by the matronly woman. "I'm 27 years old!" Debbie huffed, "And your son is a grown man." "Well then," Janice said with an air of superiority, "you should be old enough to have learned good manners like I taught my boy. Besides Pat is only 22, too young for someone like you." Janice opened the door to the spare bedroom, a plain room with nothing more than a bed, a nightstand and a dresser. "If he brings you home again, you can share his room," Janice conceded, clearly not convinced she'd ever see the little tart again. "If he brings me home again!" Debbie humphed, the memory of that night still etched in her brain. A vindictive smile spread across her lips as Patrick drove her back to the battlefield so she could claim victory over his clutching mother. When she walked in the door she'd do everything in her power to let Janice know which woman Patrick preferred. When at last they arrived at the house Patrick and Debbie climbed from the car and headed for the front door. Patrick was about to just open the door but Debbie pulled him back and rang the bell. "It'll be better this way," Debbie beamed, her pixie like smile convincing him to go along with her silly little game. The pair waited in the cold, their breath creating clouds of steam while they waited for his mother to answer the door. They could hear her steps and then the door knob was turning. "I love you baby," Debbie breathed heavily, stepping up on her toes and wrapping her arms around Patrick's head and pulling him close for a deep kiss. When Janice opened the door she could barely see her son's face, his girlfriend's mouth was busy sucking in his tongue noisily while her leg was wrapped around her son's hip doing a slow grind. Patrick, unaware that his mother had answered the door, slipped his hands down and grabbed Debbie's ass and pulled her tight against his thigh, grinding her crotch on his stiffening member. Finally Janice cleared her throat and when the pair looked at her they smiled sheepishly, Debbie untangling herself from Patrick's grasp slowly. "Mom!" Patrick shouted, thrusting his arms out for a hug when Debbie finally stepped away. "Happy Thanksgiving!" Janice and Patrick hugged tightly causing the apron on Janice's body to twist to the side. Debbie looked questioningly at the low cut sweater her boyfriend's mother wore. Her impressive cleavage would certainly be on display once the apron was removed. Looking down she saw the thigh length skirt with the dangerously high slit. "What game are you playing at?" Debbie wondered silently. Once Patrick and his mother were done hugging Janice turned to Debbie. "Oh dear. It has been so long. Sally, isn't it?" Janice said with a contemptuous smile as she pulled the young woman in for a hug. "It's Debbie, Mrs. Evans," Debbie corrected not bothering to hide her annoyance. "I'd hate to think you might be getting Alzheimer's." The horrified look on Janice's face was worth the warning glare Patrick shot her. Debbie was left to close the front door as Janice led Patrick into the house chattering away. Janice hung on Patrick's arm, her bosom pressed up tightly against him. "Any other woman," Debbie thought to herself, "and I'd claw her eyes out." But Janice wasn't any other woman, she was Patrick's mother. Ostensibly the one woman she should feel the least amount of competition from and here she was as jealous as a school girl. Deep down Debbie knew that her instinct was right. Janice wanted Patrick in a very unmotherly way. Perhaps she could play her own game. "Where is the bathroom?" Debbie called out still standing at the base of the stairs at the front door. "Upstairs, second door on the left," Janice sang out. A smile spread across the handsome woman's face, a few more minutes alone with her son was certainly a gift she wouldn't turn down. "So are things getting serious between you two?" Janice asked Patrick quietly. "Oh I don't know mom, she's a great girl. A lot of fun really." Patrick could feel the blush creeping up into his cheeks. Debbie had filled his head with stories of things she wanted to do to him in his childhood bedroom. "Well, no woman can ever replace your dear old mom, right?" Janice prompted, leaning over the counter that separated them so that her sweater dipped low giving him a view of the lacy black bra that cradled her breasts. A dark look settled on her face when Patrick didn't respond, his mind obviously somewhere else. "So when do we eat?" Debbie said cheerfully bouncing into the kitchen. Janice turned from her son and opened her mouth in undisguised shock. Debbie had removed her bra and now her pert breasts were floundering freely beneath the cotton top she wore. Her nipples were as stiff as bullets and poking out the t shirt obscenely. "Don't you think you should cover those up, dear?" Janice said over sweetly, nodding at the young woman's breasts. "Oh? Well I saw the way you were dressed and I just figured I would be comfortable too!" Debbie ignored the sour look Janice shot her and moved to sit beside Patrick. Debbie kissed Patrick on the cheek, leaving a deep red lipstick mark. Out of the corner of her eye she watched Janice's nose curl up in anger. "Hey you want to watch the game?" Patrick nodded and the pair headed to the living room, leaving Janice alone in the kitchen. Ten minutes later Patrick and Debbie were sitting in the living room when Janice brought them a tray of sliced meats and cheeses for snacks. Patrick was trying to push Debbie's arm away as his mother approached but the young woman would not budge. By the time Janice was standing over them it was obvious Debbie was rubbing Patrick's growing erection through his slacks. "It looks great. Thanks mom," Patrick said taking the tray and setting it on his lap, though he couldn't let it go because of Debbie's hand underneath. "Yes, thanks mom. It feels delicious," Debbie said softly. She fought hard to suppress the laugh that she desperately wanted to release when Janice's eyes widened in horror at her words. Janice bit her lip and for a moment Debbie could have sworn there was longing in the other womans eyes. "Ha!" she exulted silently. "You can't touch your son, but I can!" Debbie's mouth curled into a self satisfied smile. Janice gave a long look at where Debbie's hand was hidden, but obviously moving beneath the tray and then back into Debbie's eyes. With a soft sigh she turned and headed back into the kitchen. Dinner was a pleasant affair, though Janice was certainly less animated than when her son and his girlfriend had first arrived. The snide remarks had given way to a soft spoken self pitying air. Soon Patrick was aware of the difference in his mom and he tried to lift her out of her funk, but each time Janice just looked at Debbie defeatedly and then insisted nothing was wrong. After dinner Patrick brought in the small suitcases from the car and set them at the base of the stairs. Debbie had called to him in the kitchen for a slice of pie and when he finally got around to taking the bags upstairs he found they were missing. Heading up to his old room he found the bags beside his bed, his and Debbie's. "At least she's accepted that we are sleeping together," Patrick mused silently. Around ten o'clock Debbie announced she needed a shower and headed up the room to get her nightgown. Janice was tired too and said she would be getting ready for bed as well. Patrick decided that he'd have one more slice of pumpkin pie before calling it a night. "Oh dear," Janice exclaimed as she came up the stairs only to find Debbie heading into the bathroom carrying a small, black and lacy baby doll nightie. "You aren't going to wear that are you?" "Well, I thought I'd wear it with these," Debbie said holding up a pair of sheer black panties. With a challenging smile Debbie stepped into the bathroom and closed the door. Janice stared at the bathroom door until she heard the water running and then turned to her own room. Unused to others in the house she didn't bother to close the door to her room as she began to rummage through her dresser drawer. A tangle of nightgowns frustrated her and she began to toss unsatisfactory ones upon the floor. Some were overly complicated, others too granny like. Nothing seemed to meet her needs at the moment and she nearly gave up until she pulled out a simple number that she had not seen in many years. The gown was ivory colored, knee length with long sleeves, and it laced up in the middle with a cream colored ribbon. It was motherly with a hint of sexiness. With haste she began to pull off her clothes and put the gown on her body. As she finished lacing up the ribbon she hefted her heavy breasts into the soft built in cups of the nightgown. Her dark nipples could just be seen through the lace, just enough of a hint that she could claim innocence if anyone mentioned it. Debbie scrubbed her body beneath the warm water, her pussy beginning to tingle with the thought of making love to Patrick down the hall from his mother. Let Janice hear how she pleases her 'little' boy. If the woman only knew how much her boy had grown, Debbie thought and sent a delicious jolt to her pussy. Stepping out of the shower she dried her body and began to apply a small amount of makeup to her face and lips. Forty minutes after she entered the bathroom she examined herself in the mirror, turning this way and that to make sure that she looked good enough to eat. Her breasts bounced perkily beneath the lacy black nightgown, the stiff nipples poking out pronouncedly. Biting her lip, she slid her hand over her mound and teased her excited pussy before heading out the door to the bedroom. "I know mom, I love you too," Patrick said softly. Debbie stopped short and turned to find that Janice's bedroom door was open and the light from a bedside lamp was spilling into the darkened hallway. Creeping closer she peered into the room and found that Patrick was sitting on the edge of his mother's bed, his hand was being held between Janice's somewhere hidden from Debbie's view. "No one will ever take your place, mom. Don't say such things," Patrick assured her and then stood up from the bed. Debbie's eyes widened in shock at what Janice was wearing. Patrick must have gotten an eyeful of his mother's heavy breasts, perhaps even more of other parts of her body. Backing away from the door she watched intently as Patrick turned to leave and a gasp escaped her lips as she saw a tent in the sweatpants he wore. "Wait dear," Janice said quickly, "give me one more hug before you go to bed." Janice stood up from the bed and Debbie watched as she pulled her son close, Patrick's leg sliding between his mother's. Debbie watched with fascination as Janice rubbed against her son so lewdly. For a long moment Patrick held his mother close, holding his breath as he felt his mother brush her sex against his erection. Janice held his face and pulled him down to kiss his lips. "Love me," Janice said, a faint pleading in her voice after she broke the soft kiss. "I do love you mom," Patrick assured her and then stepped away from her and headed into the hall. Debbie darted down the stairs and headed to the kitchen. Drawing herself a glass of water she returned upstairs to find Patrick lying in his bed. Leaning against the door frame she pulled one leg up and struck a sexy pose. "Did you kiss your mommy good night?" she teased. Patrick only rolled his eyes and then pulled the blankets back revealing that he was lying in bed naked. "Ooh," Debbie cooed, pursing her lips in delight. "Mommy likes," she said as she pushed away from the door and crawled up his body. "Don't you think we should shut the door?" Patrick said in alarm. "Fine," Debbie replied pouting. "Be a party pooper." Janice lay in bed tossing and turning. She could hear the soft grunts and oohs coming from her son's room. Shamefully she felt her nipples ache and her sex flood with juices as she tried to imagine what it looked like as her son made love to his girlfriend. She could still feel his erection pressing up against her pussy as she pushed her body into his earlier. Debbie's cry of joy split the night and Janice was unable to stop her fingers from spreading her nether lips and slipping a finger into her soaked passage. Bringing herself to a shaking orgasm, she wrapped her body in the comforter and fell into a fitful sleep. Debbie woke to the sound of the heater kicking on in the house. Her body was draped over Patrick's in the small bed, the smell of their lovemaking still pungent in the air. In the dim morning light she saw that the bedroom door was partially open and while she lay there she began to suspect that Janice was in the hall watching them. She could feel Patrick's cock pressing against her leg, his morning erection throbbing against her skin. Acting as if she were too warm she flipped the comforter off their bodies and she heard a small gasp coming from the darkness beyond the room as their nakedness was revealed to Janice. Wetness formed anew within Debbie's pussy as she reveled in the knowledge that she was being watched. An exhibitionist streak fueled her growing arousal along with a hint of cruelty to show Janice what she could never have: Patrick's impressive cock. His member was stiff and pressed up flat against his stomach. Sliding her hand across his body Debbie took his shaft in hand and pulled it back so that it stood up proudly. The veins and bulbous head were stretched as far as they could go. "Mmmhmm," Patrick moaned softly in his sleep, shifting his hips to give Debbie greater access to his body. Debbie shifted in the bed, moving her face until she was kissing the base of his cock while she fondled his balls lightly. Scraping her fingernails across the heavy sack holding his testes she licked the tower of flesh before her. Janice watched from the hall as the young woman pulled the head down and covered the inflamed head of his member with her mouth and then pulled it off, leaving a mass of slick spit covering the tip. Fascinated she watched as Debbie stroked the wetness down his pole and used it to lubricate the hand job she was giving him. Swallowing hard Janice pressed her thighs together tightly and tried to ignore the aching emptiness in her own pussy that was suddenly hot and sticky with the need to be filled. Debbie's face was a serene painting of desire and contentment as she lazily played her son's sex as skillfully as masterful musician. Such love and devotion filled her face that Janice felt guilty that she tried to chase this young woman out of her son's life. "Mmm baby, that feels wonderful," Patrick moaned his fingers entwining in her silky hair and thrusting his hips at her gently. "I think your mom wants this," Debbie said squeezing his dick meaningfully. "Your'e crazy," Patrick said with a chuckle. "Maybe, but I still think it's true," she replied with a swipe of her tongue across the tip of his cock. "Would it turn you on?" "Would what turn me on?" Patrick said, playing dumb. "Fucking your mother," Debbie said and as the last word slipped from her lips she felt his cock grow even stiffer in her grip. "Oh I guess I have my answer." "No, it wouldn't turn me on," Patrick said defensively. "It's okay. You don't have to lie to me," Debbie said teasingly. "I'm not lying," he said trying to convince her. "Your mouth says no but your cock says yes," Debbie teased sliding her thumb along the underside of his cock making him bite his lip in pleasure. "Tell me the truth or I'll stop." "Oh god please no," Patrick pleaded. Debbie took her hand away and began to slide away from him when he grabbed her and held her in place. "Okay, okay. It's true. It turns me on." "It turns you on, what?" Debbie prompted. "I want to hear you say it." "It turns me on to think of making love to my mom," Patrick said softly. Janice had crept closer to the open door to hear his words and she nearly collapsed as her pussy spasmed when he admitted his desire for her. "Oh? Make love? How sweet," Debbie said mockingly. "I don't know about you but what we did last night was not make love. You fucked me and fucked me hard. My pussy is still sore from it. You telling me that you would treat your dear old mom any different?" Debbie took his cock in her hand and gave it a hard squeeze causing Patrick to wince and groan at the same time. A pearly drop of liquid formed at the tip and Debbie leaned over and painted her lips lewdly with it. She hoped Janice could see everything clearly from the hall. "Don't you want mommy to suck your cock? Maybe she does it better than I do?" Debbie slavered the tip of his cock with her tongue and lips, spit sliding down obscenely along the shaft. "Oh I doubt it," Patrick assured her. A wicked smile spread across Debbie's face as Patrick told his mother that he didn't think she could measure up to his girlfriend. "You think her pussy is as tight as mine?" Debbie drove in the nails. Patrick could only mumble no and shake his head as she took his stalk deep into her mouth. "I'd let you, you know," she said when she released him from her mouth. "Let me what?" Patrick asked confused. "I'd let you fuck your mom, if you wanted to that is," Debbie said simply, as if she were permitting him to order a soup instead of salad. "You'd be okay if I fucked my mom?" Patrick asked warily. "That wouldn't freak you out?" "No, I'd be okay with it. It's not like you are going to leave me for your mother. You said it yourself, she can't stack up to me and besides, it's your mom. It would be like a Christmas gift for her to let her enjoy you as I do." Janice's hands were pressed against her mound as she laid her head against her arm as she leaned against the wall just outside her son's room. She couldn't believe what Debbie was saying. She knew that she should be angry at the way Debbie tricked Patrick into saying his girlfriend was better than she was, and the way she would allow him to throw his mother a pity fuck, but none of it mattered. All she could focus on was that Patrick wanted her the same way she wanted him. As soon as Harold died her mind had latched onto Patrick as the dominant male figure in her life and she needed to feel needed by a man and now here this young woman was wrapping it all up nice and neat for her. She'd only have to accept that Debbie was the first woman in her son's life and she, as his mother, would be a distant second. Could she bring herself to accept the table scraps Debbie was offering? Holiday Love This is based on actual events which happened to me during my recent vacation. We are both of consenting and legal age. No purposeful offence wants to be made. Please note that ALL of the dialogue in this story was done in Turkish which I have then translated for your enjoyment. I would also like to apologise for the length of this story. I wanted to add in all of the detail I remembered so that I could relive the memory and so that you could have a better experience. ////////////////////////////// For me, family holidays are always boring. So I'm sure you can understand that while sitting on the plane going to Cyprus, I was not too pleased. I hadn't been there in 8 years so was excited to see my family, but to be honest; there was nothing to do where I was staying. I would wake up each morning, get ready and go out to town. Three days into the vacation, my cousin asked me to get a movie to watch in the evening. In town there was no place to rent movies, but there were two shops which sold them so I decided to go them. The first store was cramped with hardly any light due to masses of movie posters stretched across the windows. I navigated my way through the stands of CD's and unsold cassette tapes to the back of the shop where the DVD's were shelved. I ran a finger along the covers, tilting my head to the left to read the titles; however, nothing really stood out for me. I knew I had to choose a movie soon, because it was around the time where the shops started to close. Feeling disappointed, I stepped out of the store ready to go home empty-handed when I remembered that there was a second store straight across from the one I had just been in. I crossed the road, fast, dodging the oncoming traffic, stepped inside and took a deep breath. The girl at the counter looked up from the newspaper she was reading, gave me a smile. Stepping out from behind the counter she asked, "Hi. I'm Aliye. Do you need any help?" "Nice to meet you Aliye" I said, holding out my hand as she held out hers, "I'm Gee. Can you tell me where the horror movies are?" Her hand touched mine, and I felt her warm skin. I looked into her eyes which were an amazing shade of blue. I got lost in them. It is unusual for Turkish girls to have blue eyes and blonde hair, but it suited her wonderfully. Then it clicked. She was the Aliye my aunt had told me about. She was what they called "the town lesbian". She had come out in front of her whole school when she was 12 and ever since then, word had spread and she had been treated differently. I was a little surprised at first. From the way my aunt had described her, I imagined her to be really butch. I let my eyes scan over her from head-to-toe, taking in all her features. She was quite petite, around 5"4, which was the same height as me and she had slender hands, with a curvy figure. Her face was round and her lips were plump. Again, she looked around my age. Her short, blonde crop was swept behind her ears; her ample breasts seemed about the same size as mine, again, through her tee. In one word, she was angelic. With a smile, she led me to the back, right hand corner of the store. Her head kept checking back, as she walked, to see if I was still following her. Every time she turned to face the front, I couldn't help but let my eyes wander to her perfect behind. It shape was just visible through her low-rise jeans, and I couldn't help but notice the swirling black lines coming up from inside the jeans. It was a tattoo, but I couldn't work out how far it went down. Finally she came to a halt. She flashed me another smile and told me that they were on the two shelves in front of her. I was mesmerized by her presence and must have zoned out, because next thing I know, she had her hand on my shoulder asking if I was ok. I gave her a small nod and she smiled again, walking back to the counter to leave me to browse. I waited until she was out of sight. I shook my head. I had never been so captivated by a lady before. I wanted to know all I could about her, and not second hand information. I wanted to be near her. From the 2 minutes I had spent in the shop, I could not think of anything other than her. What was wrong with me, I asked myself. I composed myself, picked out a DVD without even looking at what it was, and walked slowly to the counter, breathing deeply to calm myself. Once I reached the front, she looked up at me. I placed the DVD onto the counter, and waited for her to speak. "This DVD is actually in Turkish with English subtitles. Is that alright?" she asked. I nodded, not wanting to speak at the risk of stammering like a fool. "Okay. Then that's £3. Is that all you want?" This time I had to speak. "Nope, that's all thank you" I said handing over the money. She gave me a small nod, and handed me the bag with the DVD inside. I took it, and went outside without another word. As I stepped outside, I screamed at myself, inside me. Why didn't I just ask her out? I must have looked like an idiot rushing out the store like that. I convinced myself to go back in the store to ask her. I couldn't let this chance get away. I knew I would regret it if I didn't say anything. I composed myself, once again, turned back around, and walked back into the shop. She looked up, and gave me a smile. "Is everything alright" she asked. I walked up to the counter, took a deep breath, looked into her captivating eyes, and just let the words flow out. "Do you want to go out? Like for something to eat?" Her eyes widened, but she looked a little puzzled. "I can't help but notice the way you asked that. Do you mean like a date?" she said. I fumbled my fingers and looked down. "Yeah, I mean, if that's okay with you." The corners of her mouth curled into a smile. "I'd love to, but I hope you don't have a problem with me being gay. A lot of people tend to not want to speak to me because of it" she said. "I don't mind. That's why I asked you out" I said, again, averting my eyes away from her, not wanting to get lost in her eyes and embarrass myself. "Oh" she said. I knew she understood that I was attracted to her because her hand reached out, and she placed it on mine. She looked into my eyes, and smiled. I felt like I was about to melt. She asked me if I was out. I told her that I was to my parents, but not to any of my family in Cyprus. Understanding my situation, she went on to say that if I was seen by the community with her at a restaurant, I would be out. Since that was case, she suggested that I go over to her place and order take-away food. I readily agreed and she smiled as she gave me her address. As I left I glanced back and saw her looking at me as I walked away, awaiting the time we met again that evening. Walking home, I was thinking of what to tell my family. I was supposed to be spending the night with them. What was I going to say? I approached the front door and let myself in. I was greeted by my aunt as I entered. "You took your time" she laughed, "what took you so long? What did you get?" I showed her the DVD and she said that it looked good. I looked for the first time to see what it was and realised that I had seen it before. She seemed to like it so I went to answer her other question, hoping that my mind would make something good up. "I met some friends. We got talking. They invited me out tonight. I hope you don't mind, but I said yes" I lied. My mum was standing in to corner and she shot me a look. She knew what was up. I had used that excuse on her many times before when I had a date with a girl. She knew I was gay, but I still didn't feel comfortable telling her about my dates. She gave me a smile, and I knew it was okay with her. "That's great," my aunt smiled. "Have a great time" she said. "I will" I laughed, and went to get ready. I had a shower, got changed and went to sit in the garden until it was time to leave. "Who is she then?" the voice behind me whispered into my ear. Startled, I turned around to find my mum there smiling. "Aliye. From the video shop" I spoke, smiling widely. "Oh. Her" my mum said laughing. "She's a pretty girl. I see what you like about her." "Yeah. Auntie described her super differently. I wasn't expecting her to be so beautiful" I said. "Your Auntie doesn't know how to describe anything. Ignore her. Have fun tonight, okay?" "Okay mum," I said and hugged her. I had got my mum's approval. I looked at my watch and realised I needed to leave. I hugged my mum again and left the house. Aliye's house was around a 5 minute walk from mine. The weather was mild that evening, and the sun had just started to go down. It was perfect weather for walking. I kept looking at my watch to see if I was going to make it on time. I didn't want to be late. After a short time, I reached her house. It was an averaged sized, white washed, one-floor building. Baskets were hanging on either side of the door, letting out a sweet scent. I knocked on the wooden door and she opened it at once. She had a huge smile on her face. The smell of dinner wafted through the door and made my mouth water. She hugged me and greeted me as all Turks do; she kissed me on both of my cheeks. I felt blood rush to my face making me blush. She simply smiled at my reaction. "Please, come in. Make yourself comfortable. My parents are out tonight, so don't worry about getting found out" she told me. I laughed, at once feeling more relaxed. I sat down to where her hand directed; at one end of her dinner table. She went into the kitchen and came back after a few minutes with two plates of food. She sat beside me, and we talked, ate and drank. I had never felt so relaxed before. After dinner, we went to the couch and we spoke some more. I learned more about her than I had about anyone else in my entire life. She was so easy to talk to, and I loved listening to her. I can't remember now exactly how it happened, but one minute we were laughing and the next her hand was on my leg. She leaned her head forward and parted her lips slightly. In response, I met her lips with mine, placing my hand on her cheek, cupping her face. Our lips gently moved other each others. I could feel myself getting aroused. Just then, I felt her tongue tease my lips and slip itself into my mouth. Our tongues were entwined in a full on embrace. I felt like the world was spinning around me, but we were the only ones present. An eternity had passed when we finally broke apart. I opened my eyes, breathing heavily, and searched for her eyes. When I found them, I noticed that her eyes were wandering all over my body, just as mine had over hers in the video shop. Her hands reached around my neck, and I felt her come closer. Subconsciously, I felt myself adjusting my position, so that my head was on the arm of the couch, while she was positioned above me. This time she broke the kiss. "Do you want me?" she whispered in my ear. Her words sent electricity down my spine and through my veins. From her words, I could feel myself getting even more wet. "Mmm-hmmm" I said to signal yes. At that moment our lips were united once more, her hand started sweeping down the left side of my body. I couldn't stop a moan from escaping my lips. I felt her smile as she kissed me hungrily. Her hand went between us and started to undo the pop-buttons on my shirt. I felt her fingers caress my skin as she unbuttoned downwards, finally reaching the waistband of my trousers. She laid her palm just on my navel, and began to run it up. She found the bottom of my bra and ran her fingers along it, finally placing a hand on one of my breasts. I arched my back wanting more of her touch. "Do you like that" she asked, straddling me, so that I was able to sit up, inches away, or noses just apart. "Yeah. Yeah I do" I uttered. I moved my hands to the bottom of her tee, and lifted it up over her head, dropping it onto the floor below us. I placed a trail of loving kisses from below her right ear, down her neck and onto her ample breasts. Her head flew back, as I ran my hands up her back, and undid her bra. I swept my hands along her shoulders, slipping the straps off her arms, and dropping that to the ground too, catching a glimpse of the label inside; 38D, perfect. I kissed her dark pink nipples, taking each into my mouth, nibbling and flicking my tongue over one whilst my fingers teased the other. Soft purrs were released from her mouth as I felt goose bumps rise up on her skin. Her hands felt down my body, and began to push me back down to our previous position. When I was down again, her hands found their destination; my zipper. She slowly pulled it down after already undoing the button, still kissing me passionately. I lifted my body slightly off the couch, allowing her to pull the trousers off me. They fell to the ground, when she got off me, breaking the kiss. I sat up to get a full look at what she was doing. Her eyes never left mine as she ran her hands over her body, down her perky boobs, and finally hooking her thumbs on the waistband of her skirt, pulling it down until it fell from her petite frame. There I was sitting on the couch, in still in my bra and panties, watching her in just her panties. She took me by the hand, and led me through the corridors of her house, all the time I was looking at her perfect behind covered by the white lingerie, the black swirls I had seen earlier in the shop now very much in perfect view. I couldn't help but stare; the lines ran from just above her knicker-line across the base of her back, and swirled out of view onto the front of her body coming up around her hips. Finally, we reached a bedroom, dimly lit by a three-bulb light. She gently lay me down on the bed, my skin tingling as I felt the cold sheets below me, putting out the fire burning through my skin. I had never felt this way before. She lay beside me, one arm cushioning my head, whilst one leg was thrown over mine to bring her closer. Her other hand finally took off my bra, teasing my newly-freed nipples, making them grow harder than they already were. Her hands moved along, between my bosoms, and down towards the waistband of my knickers, where she placed her palm where my slit was, rubbing me though my underwear. "Oh, my God! That feels so good" I sighed, unable to keep myself controlled. She laughed. As she felt me through my underwear, her thumb hooked the top of them, and pulled them down, over my ankles and onto the floor. A rush of air hit me, which made me buck my hips wildly. I turned to face her, my hands now pulling at the top of her underwear, which was now soaked through. I dropped them beside mine, and began to kiss her. I cupped her face with one hand, whilst the other began to gently tease her clit. Her pussy was hairless, just like mine, which let me see the whole of her. I pushed a finger inside her, two fingers, and began to move them in and out, making her write eagerly under my touch. I moved down her body, placing my lips on her cunt, kissing and licking as I worked my fingers in the same motion. That was it. She started to become vocal, making my body become even more heated and I started to quiver. Her hands snaked over my back, holding my shoulders tight, lifting her hips off the bed for more contact. Her body against mine felt amazing, her hips grinding into my mouth, her fingers searching through my hair, pulling me closer. I began to move faster, making her almost scream in pleasure. She begged for more, pleaded, until I felt her pussy start to contract around my fingers. She let out a yell which seemed to penetrate my very soul. She had come. I could hear her panting, her body shaking. I slowly removed my fingers from her opening, and moving up to meet her face. I placed a finger into my mouth, tasting her, teasing her. She tastes so good. She cupped my face with her hands, still breathing heavy, and pulled me in for an embrace. She was tender yet passionate. She moved. She was now on me, my back on the bed where she had been moments ago. A million thoughts ran through my head, I couldn't believe this was happening. Only last night was I thinking that I couldn't wait to get on the plane back home, and now I didn't want this moment to end. She ran her palms down my breasts, teasing my nipples once more. Her hands weaved down my body, sending flames through my veins. She took hold of my thighs, parted them, and dipping her head, and finally licking me with her hot, wet tongue. I could almost feel the electricity in the air. With one hand she opened my cunny, with the other; she played with my ample breasts. I thrust my hips higher, my body aching to be touched more. "Do you like it like that?" she asked, her voice vibrating through my entire body. She moved her hand down and began to play with my sensitive bead. "I do. Aliye, fuck me, make me come!" I moaned. I reached my hands down, and moved the hair from her face. I looked into her eyes, as I saw her tongue lapping at my slit. "I love it when you do that" I gasped when she sucked my clit, letting it out of her mouth with an audible pop. "I want you to come for me" she said, "I want you to feel as hot as you look right now." In that moment, the electricity began to surge through my body, I could hear her every breath, every lick she made and every sigh. My body began to tingle as I arched my back, closed my eyes and let the hot sparks come up from in front of my eyelids. I tried to breath, but I couldn't; it was stuck in my throat, caught by the ecstasy I was feeling. A wave of immense pleasure washed over me. Finally, I collapsed on the bed, pulling her up for a kiss. Her eyes looked deep into mine as she kissed me, giving me my breath back. After a while of laying there, our bodies entwined with each others, our hands running over each other's bodies, breathing in unison, she spoke. "I feel like nothing in the world can stop me feeling so happy. You were amazing and I can't believe I have never met you before today. I wish we had met years ago. I want to spend every waking moment you have with you. I don't want you to go back home. I want you so stay with me. I want you to be with me" she breathed, looking into my eyes, her face serious but still soft. "I feel the same. You gave me so much pleasure; I didn't want it to end. I never want to be away from you," I replied, making her smile, and pull me in for another embrace. Sitting on the plane going back home, I couldn't stop thinking about her. From that first encounter and the many more that followed until the morning of the flight was something I knew I would never forget. I didn't want to be here. I wanted to be beside the video store girl, with her bending over the counter, asking me if I needed any help, having another meeting with her in her garden, in the bedroom, on the kitchen and on the counter of the store. She made me wild, and I knew I was in love. But I knew it wouldn't work as the distance was too far. I will always have the memories of her voice, her touch, her scent, and her taste when she was with me. I will always have that holiday love. ////////////////////////////// For all of you who may be wondering, I am still in regular, every day contact with Aliye. She hasn't forgotten the time we spent together and neither have I. We never will. Holiday Love Affair Prologue The following is not a tale of the imagination, although it probably ranks alongside fictional accounts you may read in Literotica. Of course you are at liberty to decide if the subsequent narrative is true or not after you have read it; no assurances from me that it is true would make any difference to how you come to your verdict, you will judge for yourself. If you are inclined, however, to deem it a work of fiction, I ask you to consider the era that it is set in is the 1970's, the decade following the promiscuous sixties with that period's attempt to shape a society that didn't censure a more sexual openness or diversity. The question, 'Could this happen?' should be posed with this in mind. Fiction I suppose, outside that of science fiction (although a great deal of that is now fact), has to have some factual content based on what people could or would do under certain circumstances to make the story believable, but it still remains fiction; whilst factual based stories like the following narrative may appear as a tale of fiction, and yet is true. It is not a tale of the imagination. It happened. Anyway why should fiction writers have all the fun? I/we were motivated to set out the following account about our erotic adventures after reading 'The Kings of the Valley" by Victoria John, a terrific tale of erotica set in North Wales and published on the website of Literotica. The following account starts in North Wales, where my wife and I met a fellow holidaymaker who introduced us to a world of erotica way beyond anything we could have imagined. As this happened 30 years ago the dialogue is not verbatim but correct in the round. No matter how outrageous and crude you may think it is, it is much as I/we remember it. We are now enjoying life in our mid sixties. Both Ruth and I will share our experiences in the following account - mine from a watcher's standpoint, hers from a participant. Chester England, May1976. An introduction to the players in this drama. Paul - myself. Working as a security guard at the local car factory. Age 35 Ruth - wife. A very staunch and practising catholic pillar of the local church. Age 34 Cornelius. Retired from his business making ladies lingerie, we meet on holiday, introduces Ruth to the joy of sex and submission. Founder member of the 8"x 6" club. Age 55 Alexandra. Mother of Ruth. Introduced to Cornelius after our holiday was over by Ruth. Age 54 Isaac. Jewish business friend of Cornelius. Escaped to this country from Hitler's Nazi Germany. Set up extremely successful ladies haute couture business, member of the 8"x 6" club. Age 66 Peter Patel. Business friend of Cornelius and Isaac, chief designer for Cornelius' former business of ladies lingerie. Member of the 8x 6 club. Age 57. Two catholic priests, Father John and Father Thomas - not their real names. Age 42 and 63 respectively. Anita - cousin of Ruth, peripheral part at this stage, beautiful young lady, extremely shy, recently married, a tiny bit slow on understanding things, slight stutter. Age 19 * Chapter 1 It is early May 1976, at home near the city of Chester U.K Sunday morning, my day of rest, was interrupted by the doorbell chimes. I mutter darkly as I go to answer the door; this is my day off and I don't feel like entertaining anyone. However it's my wife's young cousin Anita calling, a lovely looking 19 year old, which stops me feeling grumpy! " Oh hi Anita come in, what can I do for you?" "I-I-I-Is Ruth home from ch-ch-church yet?" she enquired as she stepped into the house. "Not yet," I grumbled, "she lives in that bloody church. You would think the world would end if there weren't a catholic church nearby. So what do you need to see Ruth about?" "Well me and R-R-Rob (Anita's husband) had a holiday boo-boo-booked by Towyn in North Wales which starts next Saturday, a-a-a- and now he finds with his job of being a long distance lorry driver he ca-ca-can't get the time off beeecause an order from the con-con-con-continent has to be delivered during the period we had booked for this ho-ho-holiday. And as we've al-al-al-al-ready paid for it, we-we-we-we wondered if you and R-R-R-Ruth would like to go in our place?" "Hmmm," I murmured, " I'm pretty sure I can get the time off from work, and Ruth's waitressing job is a bit slack at the moment, so she shouldn't have a problem either, and it might just get her off her knees." Anita was a lovely girl, she always smelled of female freshness, a very shy and retiring type, her stutter was quite endearing. I put the kettle on and made a cup of tea. Eventually Ruth arrived back from church clutching as usual her rosary beads, and full of the sermon the priest had given out that morning. I turned a deaf ear to her proselytising (she hadn't given up on converting me) and told her what Anita had come around for. "Yes, I think I could get the time off. Mum could stand in my place, but I will have to clear it with the parish priest before I can say for definite; there are the flowers to arrange on the altar, the brasses to be done, and it's my turn to cook for the priests." "Look Ruth," I said, " I would like to get away for a couple of weeks, do a spot of sea fishing and bird watching and relax a little. We couldn't afford a holiday this year with all the house renovation costs, so if Anita and Rob are prepared to let us use the chalet they've booked for a couple of weeks, let's go." Ruth pondered about what I had said and mused, "Well I suppose it is quite near being just outside Rhyll in North Wales, and I suppose if the church needed me I could get home pretty quick, and mum, (Alexandra another religious fanatic), will look after the needs of the church and priests. And by the way, I hope you haven't forgotten but we will be 15 years married on the day after the holiday starts. Is there a church near the camp?" she asked Anita. " Y-Y-Y-Yes, I think so," Anita replied. "O.K then, providing I can attend mass we'll go." Anita was pleased we could go and they hadn't wasted their money. Here I think I should give a brief outline account of our everyday life. Ruth and I had been married 15 years. She was 20 and I was 21 when we got hitched. I always knew she loved her church and coming from a devout home where everything revolved around catholic teachings, I could not really, I suppose, have expected her to act like ordinary females of her age, and enjoy the fruits of married life. Both her mother's house and ours had images of Our Lady and Jesus, and pictures of the Pope in every room but the toilet; they were known humorously by neighbours as St Alex and St Ruth. Ruth was always up to do 'good works', was pious, devout, virtuous, and moral all rolled into one, but not self-righteous. She was teetotal although she smoked the occasional cigarette. If she had been a plain girl I could have accepted or understood this love of church, but she was a really good looking woman; 5'6" with a figure many women would kill for, blue eyes, natural blonde hair and a clear complexion that needed little or no make up and long shapely legs. However, don't get the idea that Ruth was a prude, she was not. She dressed well in the 70's style of the day, without being flamboyant, she enjoyed socialising and partying although she only drank fruit juice, and loved to dance, at which I am a complete dunce. She went to the gym twice a week, so was very fit, keeping her very feminine figure well toned up. The very emotional side to her personality became evident whenever we saw a love picture and the female leads and scenes put her in a position of unrequited love. She would identify very strongly with the heroine, and be miserable for days after. She was an avid reader of the Mills & Boon's series of silly love stories, and loved reading Barbara Cartland's 'bodice ripper' novels; the only time she read a book of substance was when she was reading Emily Bronte's "Wuthering Heights". Perhaps this fantasy romantic side of her explained the dark lurking secretive and suppressed Mr Hyde, or perhaps it would be more accurate to say the Mrs Hyde element in her character, which manifested itself in every aspect during our holiday. Our married sex life was a disaster, no wonder we had no kids! On our wedding night she was very apprehensive; on the advice of her mother she wore a long heavy flannelette nighty, and was on her knees praying for 10 minutes before she climbed into bed. While we were courting she would never allow me above her knee, and certainly never above where her stocking top ended. Her tits also were out of bounds, so her apprehension on the night of the wedding was, I thought, natural for Ruth. When I tried to finger her cunt she shrank away from me; however after a lot of persuasion I managed to get her legs apart and mount her. Her cunt was dry as a bone and almost skinned my cock as I edged it into her hole. The breaking of her hymen caused more loss of blood than I thought possible for such a delicate membrane; a little forethought would have saved the sheets and the stain in the mattress that was always a reminder to Ruth of our disastrous wedding night whenever she changed the bed linen. Her mother was a malign influence on Ruth's attitude towards sex, teaching her that it was unclean and that men were only after one thing. I learned later that her mother had been fucked no more than about three times in her entire life, one of them producing Ruth. Later in our marriage I tried to introduce Ruth to fellatio and cunnilingus. Big mistake! I was in the doghouse until the day of this holiday. The church of course didn't help; these women thought they were observing God's commandments by keeping sex to an absolute minimum; procreation not recreation was their maxim, and of course French Letters were against the teaching of the church. I got my leg over once or twice during the first 12 months of married life, but eventually gave up trying, relieving myself on a diet of a regular wanking session accompanied by a men's magazine. However I never thought about getting it on with another woman. I suppose you could say on the day we set out on the holiday that she was still literally the virgin I married 15 years ago. At the age of 35 her cunt was still more or less brand new. The one tragedy in her life was the death of her dad when she was just nine years of age, which left her with chronic constipation. Her dad's death still affected her whenever the anniversary of his death came around with a depression than could last for days. The date of his death would unfortunately fall during our coming holiday, something I was not looking forward to. We both worked; I in the local car factory and she with her mother as waitresses in a high-class hotel restaurant in nearby Chester. We were in the process of buying our own house, and ran an old Ford Cortina Mark 1 car. Chapter 2 Hi. My name is Ruth, I am the wife of Paul who is writing up the narrative of our past exploits or experiences with other people, which began in May 1976. In May 1976 I was 34 years of age, and I had been married to Paul for just on 15 years. To add a little towards how Paul has described me at the time we are reminiscing about how I weighed just over 9 stone; my figure was 36-25-38, maybe not perfect but my curves were in all the right places, while even today 30 years later I still have a really nice shapely pair of legs (no varicose veins). I attended the gym twice or more a week, and went dancing with my mum on a regular basis, so I was very fit and kept the spare tyre away. I worked as a silver waitress with my mum in a first class restaurant serving top people; the wage was pretty poor but the tips made up for it. My mum was also my best mate; I for some reason never had many girl friends although I could have had the pick of the boys. We were staunch Catholics who took our religious obligations very seriously. We attended mass every morning and Holy Communion every Sunday. We carried out unpaid voluntary work for the church and several charities that the church supported. We admired the hard working priests and respected their vow of celibacy. I found the confidentially of the confessional box gave me peace. When my dad died, the church was very supportive of us two and did everything it could to ease our pain of bereavement; we were grateful to the church for this support and from the time of dad's death, the church became the centre of our little enclosed world. My dad died in an accident in the nearby chemical works when I was nine years old. I remember a teacher calling me out from the class and saying I must go home with a neighbour. When I arrived home mum was crying her poor heart out. I knew something serious was wrong but never imagined that it was dad. When I was told I fell to the floor in a faint; when I was brought round I had a terrible knot in my stomach which proved to be the start of chronic constipation, a problem I suffered from for the next 25 years. I had no relief from it other than a harsh purgative that emptied my bowels once every three or four weeks. Only during the second week of the holiday did I find permanent relief. Anybody who has suffered from this complaint knows how miserable it can make you, and at times how sickly you feel. It also left me with a problem of wind, wind that would make itself evident at inappropriate times and places - a sudden trump, a 'parp' brought hilarity amongst my young school chums but frowns from teachers. The boy's being boy's started to call me 'stinky bum.' It was a deeply embarrassing and depressing time. Eventually I learned to control the outburst and allow the wind to escape quietly. Constipation is not a case for sniggering, nor an item of conversation sufferers enjoy. I married Paul, a childhood sweetheart at the age of 20; we had a beautiful white wedding held in our local church. Although Paul was a Catholic he did not attend church on a regular basis. I thought once we were married I could talk him into becoming a regular, and maybe getting him to do odd jobs around the church. However he steadfastly refused, saying the church had its place but not in his home. Before we were married I asked mum about men, as I had no experience of them; she told me that although she felt we were encouraged to have children, sex for its own sake was sinful. She told me in strict confidence and much hesitation that dad couldn't get a proper erection, that he had her no more than three times during the lifetime of their marriage but this to her showed how righteous he was. Other men she said had only one thing in mind and pointed to the times that I and even she had been approached by men while serving in the restaurant. Sometimes the dirty things had tried but not succeeded in putting their hands up our skirts or pinching our bottoms, and so I should treat men with a great deal of caution. Although it was true, as I can attest, that this did happen in our line of work, it was not what I wanted to hear. I wanted the benefit of an older woman's experience although mum was, as it turned out, almost as inexperienced as myself. Protests to the manager over the harassment from customers he dismissed with a, "Ladies take it as a compliment, you are both very attractive each in your own way, and no harm has come to you has it?" We could have left but, outside of the odd attempts at touching us up, we enjoyed the job and the convenient hours so decided to stay. Therefore without the benefit of mum's advice, I entered our marriage confused and fearful. Paul was and is a loving husband but a lousy lover. He never came in late or drunk, turned his wages over, never gave me any doubt over his fidelity, I loved him for that alone, but now love him for what he is. Our wedding night was a disaster; mum's warning rang in my ears that sex was sinful unless in the pursuit of children, which at that time neither of us wanted. French Letters within the rules of the church were out of the question. Paul's technique in lovemaking was that of a 10-year-old schoolboy; I was petrified and on my knees at the side of the marriage bed asking the Blessed Virgin for guidance and protection. I at last got into bed and finally allowed Paul to mount me. My pussy was dry, mainly through fear, but also because my new husband, who pushed what I thought at that time was a huge cock straight up my pussy, hadn't prepared me properly. The pain was awful but the amount of blood I shed from the tearing of my hymen frightened the life out of me and turned me off sex until I met and was fucked into a state of bliss by Cornelius. After a couple of fruitless and to him at least frustrating months, he gave up, although I remember vividly how one night he tried to go down on me. This I found at that time abhorrent; it was dirty and animalistic. If only I had let him proceed everything might have been different, but mum's warning again was in my head and I shoved him away calling him names I am not now proud of. The poor dear was trying his best. I didn't realise it at the time but my lack of a sex life with a man started me into reading romantic novels. I couldn't get enough of Barbara Cartland or the Mills & Boon series of love stories. I found them exciting, the heroine at the end always getting her very masculine man, a man to whom she was prepared to surrender herself body and soul. 'If only I had married such a man,' I'd sigh every time I read a story and all I had was Paul. I was filling my head with romantic slush and putting myself into harm's way if ever someone came along who had the qualities of the hero in the novels. It was during the early part of this time that I found how to masturbate. Paul did a week about on nights and days. During his week on nights I used to tuck myself up in bed with a cup of hot milk after I had come from work. I would prop myself up against the pillows and with the book resting upon my knees, which were tucked up towards my chin, I would then enter the world of fantasy love through the novel. One day I borrowed Emily Bronte's novel 'Wuthering Heights' from the library and as usual took it up to bed to read. I soon fell under the spell of Heathcliffe, a young orphan boy who won my heart. However his vengeful attack on Catherine and her brother and his cruel treatment of his wife Isabella Hinton strangely attracted me, but his brutal treatment of young Cathy, making her act as a common servant, put such a tingly itch in my fanny that on putting my hand down to scratch my slit I brushed my clitoris, which was peeping through the lips of my cunt; touching it sent a shiver through me. I experimented by rubbing it gently and soon I felt my toes starting to curl, and felt shivers run up my spine. I continued to gently rub away until with a groan I climaxed for the first time in my life, my cunt juices running down between my arse cheeks and staining the sheet. Soon I was dreaming of Heathcliffe, his dark overpowering personality had me longing for his presence. My masturbation session became a regular feature when Paul was on night shift, but always with a book to fire my imagination. During these sessions I would put a towel under my bottom to prevent any staining and found that every time I now climaxed my bum hole would pulse with every contraction in my cunt. I would fire on occasion a string of 'parps' in unison with the fanny contractions depending on the intensity of my climax, sometimes but not often accompanied by an obnoxious smell the result of my constipation. For the next 12 or 13 years this was my sex life. By 21 you would have thought that I should have by then discovered the pleasure of masturbation, but I was a 21-year-old woman with the sex education of a 12 year old, it just didn't enter my head until Heathcliffe came along, and then I only discovered it by accident. Holiday Love, Healing, and Energy I realize this is not a typical contribution. I soul-searched a lot before I decided to go ahead and enter this into the contest. I think sometimes, we all need a little reminder that we are not alone. I hope this message brings you comfort and healing. Sometimes I wish, for just one moment, that you could experience the world through my eyes and know that we are never truly alone. Our loved ones are still with us. So often they reach out to us with love, healing, understanding, comfort, answers, messages. Open your heart to the gifts of love they have to share. They're waiting for you to take notice. A touch, a song, a scent, a dream, a symbol, something you would recognize, something that represents them. We think our thoughts for a reason. "Why am I thinking about her?" "Why do I keep seeing butterflies everywhere?" "Why is his favorite song playing now?" The WHY of it is because they want you to know they are there. The more repetitive your thoughts, the harder they are trying to get through to you. You are not crazy, you are not making it up. It isn't just "in your head." When a connection is made often people lock themselves into the kind of "visit" or "message" we are expecting from our loved ones. A certain song for instance or a memory that we hold dear, isn't necessarily the memory foremost in their mind. Or maybe they didn't remember that particular event the way you did. Try not to let your hopes cloud or even block the message they have to share with you. Lately, people have been coming to me asking questions like, "How can I stop this pain?" "When will I be able to move on?" "Why me?" "Why is life so unfair?" "Why can't I feel them anymore?" "Why have they abandoned me?" I'd like to address this, as well. If you have felt their presence with you and all of a sudden stop feeling them, don't panic. It does not mean they have left your side for good. Maybe, they have other people to visit and other things to do. Sometimes, they are doing this to help us learn to cope or to let go. This does not mean they are gone forever. They are always watching over us. They are not abandoning you, although it may feel that way at times. Talk to them, they do hear you and they sometimes even answer back! We can become so dependent on signs and messages, that we become ungrounded and have a hard time living in the here and now. For a time our grief can take a back seat. Of course we are sad and our hearts are burdened, but when our loved one is a constant presence in the beginning, it can delay the grief process. We need to honor our emotions, honor the process, let the tears fall, the anger out, do what you have to do to get through. Grieving is universal, yet an extremely personal process. Respect and let others grieve the way that they need to for themselves. It is true that we are the ones left behind, to pick up the pieces, to learn to move forward in our lives. Our loves ones are at peace or finding peace. They wish to help us find our own peace among the sorrow and pain and turmoil. Allow their healing influence into your life. This time of year is especially difficult for many people. Holidays, family and friend together times. These times bring up memories of the past, memories of those who have gone on before us. Not only good memories come up, but so do the bad ones we'd rather forget. I am sending out waves of love and healing for those missing their loved ones right now. Let those feelings flow, but remember the happy times and be comforted by the memories. Healing sometimes takes place subtly and slowly and sometimes it seems we are stuck and backslide, going backwards instead of forwards. Honor the grief process. It is unique to each person. There is NO set time frame! This is a difficult time of year for me, not only missing my own loved ones, (first year without my Grammy) but feeling the emotions of everyone else. Spirits AND energy are abundant and just a trip to the grocery store can leave me feeling overwhelmed. It's OK to say NO, it's OK to buffer yourself from other people's "stuff." Sometimes, you have to know when to take care of yourself and protect yourself from what others are emitting around you. Take a breather, take a step outside, or a break. Refocus your attention, shield yourself, ground yourself (drink some water, eat some food), and ask assistance of the angels, your guides, God, universe, who/whatever it is you believe in: to help keep your space tranquil and keep you calm. Not only is it feelings over missing loved ones, but all the other things that people reflect upon towards the end of the year and feelings that go with them. The positives and the negatives. I've distanced myself from social networking, trying a bit of self preservation. Listen to your intuition, obey your gut feelings - these inner urgings have knowledge for you to keep you safe and yours safe, protected, and loved. Your loved ones want you to know they are ever by your side, even if you don't believe it or can't seem to grasp that. Feel the gentle brush of energy, hear the music, see the signs, open your heart to their love and comfort. Be aware, be alert, be open! And please, if you have any experiences along these lines, or were given comfort from an unusual source or situation: PLEASE SHARE! Happy Holidays to One and All. May you have gratitude and find contentment in what you do have, but not stop believing in the magic of possibilities (including love)! Holiday Love "Somehow I doubt that will ever happen," Patrick mused. "Would you want it to happen?" Debbie probed. "If I could make it happen, would you really want it?" Motioning with her hand, Debbie bid Janice to come closer. For a moment she worried that she had only convinced herself that Janice was spying on them in the hall but a few seconds later the older woman stepped carefully into the room. Debbie could smell the other woman's arousal clearly, a scent she found strangely enticing. Janice's heart was pounding in her chest and her knees were trembling. Her pussy was flooding and the sticky sweetness trickled down her leg. "Yes, I'd want it," Patrick moaned. "I'd love to fuck my mom." With his eyes closed he didn't see that his mother had crept into his bedroom, crouching at the end of his bed. Debbie was slowly stroking his cock and motioning for Janice to come and take it in her mouth. Patrick felt the bed shift but just assumed that it was Debbie moving and then his cock was enveloped in a wet warmth he loved so well. "You like that?" Debbie asked, his cock buried in her mouth and her tongue swiping against his pubes. Patrick did a double take, how could she talk with his cock buried so deep in her mouth? Sitting up he looked down and saw that his mother was between his spread legs and his staff was lodged between her maternal lips. Janice looked up, lust and apprehension written all over her face. Her concerns washed away when her son groaned and fell back on the bed, his hands coming down to grip the sides of her face and hold her in place while he thrust his hips up into her. "You like that baby? You like your mother sucking your big, hard cock?" Debbie whispered hotly in his ear. Patrick only growled and thrust deeper between his mother's lips. Janice made loud slurping noises along with the occasional cough as she nearly choked on her son's member. Tears formed in the corner of her eyes as she tried to accommodate his pace and size. His father had never responded this enthusiastically to oral sex, perhaps Harold might have if it had been his mother performing it, Janice mused. The thought caused her to laugh and suddenly she was snorting and spewing spit around Patrick's sex. "Oh baby, your choking your mom with your dick. You better take it easy on her," Debbie laughed musically. Watching her boyfriend being blown by his mother was turning Debbie on immensely. She couldn't believe how wet her own pussy was getting and soon found herself sliding her fingers through her own puffy lips. "I think you should fuck her now Pat. Come on, fuck your mother for me. Do it for me!" Janice shot Debbie a dark look but then lowered her eyes quickly when Debbie just smiled cruelly at her position. Patrick was going to fuck his mother, just like Janice wanted, but Debbie had claimed the idea. Patrick would be able to rationalize having sex with his mother because of his depraved girlfriend's desire, not his own. In the end it didn't matter much, Janice would get to fulfill her darkest wish, but Debbie still held the upper hand. Patrick felt his mother pull away, his cock a slippery mess covered in her spittle. Rising to his knees he began to slide around to the foot of the bed but Debbie stopped him. Instead Debbie was maneuvering Janice onto the bed on her hands and knees. Once Janice was in place Debbie stood at the older woman's hips and pulled her thighs apart exposing the wet inflamed opening of her sex. Patrick stared in disbelief, there before him was his mother's exposed cunt covered in sticky, matted pubic hairs. The red gash of her sex was oozing liquid at a steady pace and he could detect that her body was shaking in anticipation. "Fuck her baby, fuck her like a bitch in heat," Debbie taunted him. Patrick didn't think his mother would appreciate the way Debbie was speaking of her, but he didn't know how to correct his girlfriend. Did his mother really want him to treat her like a piece of meat? Did she want him to abuse her body so wantonly? "Tell him. Tell your boy you want him to fuck you," Debbie commanded. "Fuck me, baby. Fuck your momma," Janice said without hesitation, her voice filled with need. Patrick slid his hand up his mother's thighs and thrust his middle finger into her sopping snatch, eliciting a cry of surprise from Janice. The heat was immense and the wetness was as thick as honey. Withdrawing his hand he licked his fingers as he watched for Debbie's reaction. "You like the taste of your mother's pussy?" Debbie asked. "You know this will make you a real mother fucker if you do this, don't you?" Her laugh sounded so wicked and Patrick was drawn into her twisted game. Taking his aching, rock hard cock by the base he slapped it against his mother's ass cheeks and then probed roughly for her entrance. On the third thrust he slid it home and drove himself all the way until his balls were slapping against her lips. Debbie cried out again, suddenly filled with cock for the first time in an age. Her pussy began spasming immediately and her orgasm tore through her unexpectedly. "Oh baby, you made your mother cum!" Debbie shrieked joyfully. "Just look at that horny bitch cumming all over your cock." Debbie stepped to the foot of the bed and lifted Janice's chin with her finger. "You like your boy fucking you? Do you like being his little fuck toy?" Janice's slight nod sent a self satisfied shiver up Debbie's spine. "Well your my toy, too," Debbie announced and then pushed her soaked cunt into Janice's face. "Lick," she ordered. "Oh god," Patrick groaned watching his mother lick his girlfriend's pussy. His cock was still buried unmoving in his mother's clutching pussy. Her orgasm just seemed to roll on unendingly and he was afraid if he moved he'd lose control. As he watched Debbie's face melt in pleasure at his mother's tongue he felt the pussy engulfing his cock begin to move back and forth slowly. The velvet vise had loosened a little and he was no longer in danger of shooting off too quickly so he began to move in time with his mother's thrusts. "Ah- uh- ah- ah-," Debbie's staccato cries punctuated by gasps of air were a familiar precursor to her impending orgasm. Patrick watched her through lust filled eyes as his mother brought his girlfriend closer to the cliff. Debbie began to grunt and her face a mask of concentration as she thrust her pussy harder against Janice's tiring tongue. "Eat that pussy, mom," Patrick shouted with a hard slap to her ass. "Eat her until she cum's all over your fucking face." Debbie grabbed Janice's hair and pulled her face tightly against her spasming cunt, her orgasm tearing through her and a cry of joy ripping from her throat. "OH FUCK!" Debbie screamed as her juices poured out of her and onto Janice's face and mouth. At last unable to stand any longer she collapsed onto the floor in a gasping mass of quivering flesh. Goose bumps covered her body and she could barely focus her eyes. It was several minutes later when she was able to comprehend that the sound of slapping flesh was Patrick fucking his mother wildly from behind. "Oh- oh- oh baby! Oh god, baby!" Janice whimpered, her breasts flopping back and forth in time with her son's penetrating thrusts. The older woman's face was awash in guilty pleasure as he sawed through her sex and reminded her of what it was to be a woman. "So deep, so deep," she huffed between gasps of air. "I'm gonna cum, mom. I'm gonna cum inside of you," Patrick cried, his face painted in concentration. Janice's head shot up and a high pitch squeal shot out of her throat as her son's cock hardened even more within her and then a second later she felt the rush of his seed spurting deep within her body. Her own orgasm was triggered and her sugar walls began to milk him, drawing his sperm up into her womb. At last the room was filled with nothing more than deep gasps of air and their panting. Patrick collapsed at the head of the bed, his body covered in sweat and his cock smeared with the combined fluids of his and his mother's orgasm. Janice's pussy oozed copious amounts of juices onto the bed, making an obscene wet spot. Debbie sat propped against the wall, her legs akimbo while her fingers lazily played with her inflamed gash. --- The day after Thanksgiving was strangely quiet once the three of them had awkwardly separated to get cleaned up. Janice didn't know how to handle herself around her son and his girlfriend after their morning tryst and found herself walking on egg shells until Debbie put her at ease by suggesting they help her with her holiday decorating. With a few simple words Debbie had indicated their relationship would be normal, although different than before, and Janice was grateful for the ability to interact like a normal family. She had feared the Debbie would continue to dominate and humiliate her as she had done in the bedroom. Patrick was assigned the lonely task of hanging the Christmas lights on the house, a task that was a sad chore because he used to do it with his father. By early afternoon the lights were hung and when he returned inside the home he found it pleasantly warm and many of the nativity scenes he remembered from his childhood had been set up around the house. His mother and Debbie seemed to be chatting like old girlfriends, sipping coffee and sorting through the various boxes of decorations from the attic. Dinner was made from leftovers and by the time bed time rolled around everyone was bushed. Janice lay awake in her bed for some time hoping to hear her son and Debbie making love but it didn't come. Unable to sleep she headed to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of water. Standing at the sink she looked out into the moon lit yard and sighed softly. Patrick heard his mother's footsteps on the stairs and he longed to be with her alone. Extricating himself from Debbie's arms he slipped away in the darkness, careful to avoid the squeaky step on his way to the kitchen. He found her standing at the sink, the moon light silhouetting her shape beneath the diaphanous robe she wore. Her heavy breasts were pendulous and perfect in his eyes. Stepping up behind her he slid his arms around her waist and pulled her tightly against his body. Janice jerked in surprise and then leaned back against her son, her hands covering his as she turned to the side so that she could see his face. "Were you upset by- by this morning?" Janice stammered. "No, not upset," Patrick assured her. "Surprised, yes." He held her in silence for a few minutes enjoying the weight of her against him,the feel of her fleshy buttocks pressing against his slowly inflating cock. "I just wished it had been a bit more tender," he offered at last. "Oh baby," Janice gushed turning in his arms and placing hers around his neck. Her lips pressed against his insistingly and soon his mouth opened and allowed her tongue to entangle with his. Sliding her fingers into her son's hair she pulled him closer and pressed her bosom up against his chest. Patrick undid the ribbon on her nightgown and exposed her breasts, his fingers sliding along the veined surface of her tits, tweaking her nipples. Janice could feel his penis pressing against her thigh, pushing forward seeking her sex. Slipping her hand down along their bodies she curled her fingers around his shaft and held him lightly, sliding the skin back and forth gently. Patrick moaned into her mouth and grabbed her breasts, squeezing them with intense desire. "My room," Janice breathed at last, not wanting the first time alone with her son to be in the kitchen. She longed for him to make love to her in a bed. Patrick nodded and took her hand as he led her up to her room. Patrick paused outside his room and made sure that Debbie was still asleep and then his mother was pulling him into her room, closing the door softly once they were inside. Janice slipped the nightgown off her shoulders and stood before her son naked. She was proud of her body from her large motherly breasts to her belly which only had a slight pooch. Stepping up to Patrick she placed one hand on his chest and slipped the other around his neck and pulled him close for a deep, sensuous kiss. Her lips caressed his slowly, as if she had all the time in the world to please him. Patrick felt her tongue slide along his teeth and lips and then dance across his own tongue. The luxurious kiss was nothing like he had ever felt. Unable to wait any longer he led her to the bed and pushed her back onto the bed, her legs spreading wide for him. Shucking off his boxers he climbed up and knelt between her legs. "Oh baby," Janice sighed as Patrick lowered his face to her sex and he drew in a loud breath, inhaling the scent of her arousal. Then his face was pressing up against her lips and his tongue was parting her honey covered sex. For several minutes Patrick lapped at his mother's grotto, the taste and smell intoxicating him. At last Patrick moved his face from his mother's thighs and crawled up to her face where she licked and kissed away the smear of juices that covered his mouth. Rolling her hips back Janice wrapped her legs around her son's hips and he lowered his stiffened cock into her sopping pussy. Covering her mouth with his own he stabbed at her with his tongue and his ramrod, undulating to send sparks of pleasure through both of their bodies. The night was quiet except for the squishy sloshing of their coupling and their soft groans and sighs as they brought each other the most forbidden of pleasure. Janice could never recall love making so sweet and yet so intense. Tears threatened to fall from her eyes as she felt she was betraying her late husband. But somewhere deep inside she knew that Harold had given her this one last gift and the tears of shame became that of joy. Her orgasm was sudden and draining. Patrick felt her body trembling and then she was clutching at him tightly, her pussy spasming wildly which triggered his own release. With quiet grunts he thrust as far as he could into her body and deposited his seed deep within her. Janice's finger nails dug deeply into his back as he pressed his mouth tightly over hers, his tongue dueling wildly with hers. Finally he pulled his mouth away in a gasp for air and then he slumped against her, spent and sweaty. Patrick climbed back into his bed gingerly, not wanting to wake Debbie. He would have to get up before her and hit the shower to keep her from knowing what had happened. For many long minutes he lay still, his mind playing over everything that had happened. He could not believe that he had had sex with his mother, twice! Still, this last time he felt as if Debbie would not approve, he knew she had a jealous streak. As he lay in the dark he could feel Debbie moving and then she was pushing against his chest. Feigning sleep, he wondered what she was up to. "Pat?" Debbie whispered. "Are you awake?" For a split second he was tempted to answer, but something in him told him to hold out. At last Debbie seemed satisfied that he had fallen asleep. In the dark she pulled the cover back and exposed his body. She slipped her hand down to his groin and pulled his boxers down. She could feel the stickiness that covered his limp cock and a knowing smile spread across her lips. Patrick had to bite his tongue when Debbie engulfed his spent member and washed him with her tongue and lips. The loud slurps of her ministrations filled his ears and he could not understand how it didn't wake everyone. Finally Debbie finished with a loud plop, her mouth filled with the taste of Patrick and his mother. With a satisfied swallow she returned to the crook of her boyfriends arm and fell back asleep. --- "Thank you for everything," Debbie said giving Janice a sincere hug. "It was my pleasure," Janice said. "I hope you can come back for Christmas." Patrick gave his mother a tight hug and a chaste kiss before climbing in the car. Janice waved at his son and Debbie as they pulled out of the drive and headed down the street back to the university. A week later Janice opened a pastel colored envelope. Inside was a Christmas card that depicted a snow covered house during the holidays. Inside written in neat handwriting she found: I can't make it for Christmas. He's all yours for two weeks. Merry Christmas. Love, (Your future daughter) Debbie.