A Shed, Summer, and Scarborough

She let the length of me plop from her lips. "What, darling?" she asked. "Don't you like it when I suck your cock?"

I still wasn't used to hearing my own mother use language like that, and every time she spoke about sucking cock or fucking or how good Carolyn's cunt tasted when she came, a thrill surged through my veins.

"I love it, Mum," I sighed, removing my mother's hand so I could and hold my penis and stroke my own length. "I can't believe that we're actually doing this. Me and you and Carolyn."

"Don't think about it, Eric," my mother said as she watched my hand move. "It happened. I'm not sure myself how it all came about, but we're here now. I don't think about it, I just want to enjoy it. I love you ... I love Carolyn, and you love both of us ..."

And then she took my hand away from my erection. My mother licked and massaged me until I felt the incredible surge of my orgasm curl my toes.

"Fuck," I moaned and then squirted my relief all over the lino.

Spunk jetted from the eye of my cock, raining down onto the floor while my mother's hand worked quickly, pumping me as semen slid over her wrist and hand.

When the spurting tapered to a dribble, my mother licked and sucked at the residue, and then grinned at me as she rose to her feet.

"Do you have enough energy, Eric?" She reached to turn off the taps. "Can you manage to fuck me even though you've just made such a mess?"

I fucked my mother as she leaned over the bath, her hands pressed against the far wall. It was hot work, sweat streaming off me from the heat of the day outside and the steam in the bathroom. Holding my mother's hips, I stabbed at her, using my hard cock as a weapon to plunge into her body time and again.

My mother gasped and sighed, pushing her hips back at me while I thrust hard and relentless.

"Yes," she panted. "That's it. That's just what I need. Love me later, Eric. Just fuck me now, my darling. Fuck me like I need to be fucked. Give me that lovely cock."

The doorknob rattled before someone knocked at the door.

"It's occupied," Mum called out as I paused mid-stroke.

Carolyn's voice came from outside. "It's me."

I slid my length from my mother's body. "Hurry up," she snapped. "Let her in and then put that thing back inside me. I need to climax soon."

With Carolyn inside and the door bolted, I had soon returned to my thrusting and grunting while my cock split my mother's cunt.

The blonde sat on the edge of the bath and, naked, watched as she fingered herself.

I could feel my mother's fingernails scraping my cock as she rubbed herself to a climax.

"I'm going to do it," she gasped before her head lolled forward and her body began to judder.

A cry came from Carolyn. Me too!" she shouted. "I'm fucking coming as well."

Anyone could have heard us groaning and calling out if they'd been walking past that door, and I'd been surprised that the hotel clerk didn't come running to investigate. Instead of being caught out by any hotel staff or guests, the two women climaxed, one clenching around my penis while the other squelched her fingers into her sodden opening.

We shared a bath; two of us in the tub at a time while the other soaped and rinsed the bathers. Eventually, pink and wrinkled from immersion, I left the women alone and scuttled furtively along the landing to the bedroom.

The women returned ten minutes later. We dressed, Carolyn in a blue dress while Mum looked gorgeous in bright, summery yellow dress, a vivid canary that complimented her tanned arms and shapely legs.

Carolyn, with her cleavage plunging, daring and provocative in those times, picked up her boxy camera and we all traipsed down the stairs and out into the sunshine of a Saturday afternoon.

On the sand, with the sea in front of us, Carolyn used her charm on a strolling gentleman who, after a good, long stare down the blonde's vertiginous cleavage, said he'd be only too happy to snap our photograph for posterity.

Epilogue

The weekend at Scarborough proved to be the beginning of a relationship between the three of us that lasted until Carolyn passed away in 1999. Mother went in 1974 following a mercifully short illness.

Carolyn and I lived together in the terraced house until my fortieth birthday, when, after taking up the option to buy the place from the council not long before, I sold up and we moved to Scarborough.

I found the photograph that triggered my reverie tucked under a tray in Carolyn's jewellery box, and then spent the afternoon wandering along the sea front in front of the Lord Nelson reliving that weekend. But now it's time for a pint of beer in the bar, where I can think about kissing Carolyn that first time, and where I can picture the scenes that played out in the bedroom at the top of the hotel, the three of us, together. And the years we had afterwards.