Get Loose

G

It had been the first vacation your mom had been on in years, and it was nice to see her letting her hair down for once. Well, that was sort of what she was doing. She kept one eye on her phone constantly, even while lounging by the ocean. It was starting to annoy you to see it. On top of that, whenever your dad and brother were gone, guys would approach your mom and begin hitting on her. Your mom would turn them down, gently as a diplomat, which was as gentle as you were used to seeing her do everything else. But something about her turning down these guys left a bad taste in your mouth.

Something about the way the light of her phone played off of her face every 30 seconds, and the way she would become lost in some stupid thought about things back home; it all got under your skin. You could see the tightness in her shoulders, wringing hands, and her ass cheeks. When you saw her pointing out your dad on the tennis court (losing a two-on-one game against a 6 foot 3 male model with your brother as his blushing partner) to men who had rascally intentions in mind as an explanation for why she couldn’t go with them, it was the straw that broke the camel’s back for you.

Vacation was the place where she was supposed to let down her hair and forget about everything going on back home. Her professional attire was off, and she was now in beach wear, but she just couldn’t shed her sense of responsibility or duty to your father and let a few guys have their harmless fun with her.

So the next day, you decided that while your brother and dad were out deep-sea diving (your mom wouldn’t go because she said it worried her too much), you and your mom would spend your time getting drunk at the resort’s open-air bar.

Getting her to tilt back those shots and down those beers was like trying to open a steel-reinforced trapdoor with a wooden crowbar. You tried to keep your cool, but at various points you almost snapped at her. But with each drink you did manage to get passed the gate of her lips, when she wasn’t busy mouthing her own thoughts silently as they tormented her chattering mind, each subsequent shot became easier. Until finally, she was showing signs of being drunk. You knew, not only because of her swaying back and forth in the booth, but because she hadn’t looked at her phone for 10 minutes straight. It had been years since she last went 10 minutes straight without checking her phone.

Suddenly, you two were approached by a tall, muscular man with 3 shots held in triangle formation by his brawny hands. It was the guy who beat your dad and brother at the tennis court just yesterday. You remember noting how handsome he was as his big, muscular arms pulsed as he swung his racket and propelled the ball over, around, or, most embarrassingly, underneath, your dad and brother. His golden head shone in the sun that day, just like his smile and fake humility. He asked how you two were doing. You answered that you were both fine, just relaxing and enjoying the day. He handed you your shots slowly and watched closely with the corner of his eyes for your mom to down hers.

He asked where your brother and dad were, and if you thought they’d like a rematch. You said that they were in the middle of the ocean. He laughed. You said “no, literally. They’re deep sea diving. They won’t be back til tonight.”

“Why didn’t you guys go?” he asked, and looked at your mom.

She just kind of sat there, looking down at the table.

You answered: “My mom’s afraid of the water. She’d probably be stressed out about the two of them now if she wasn’t so drunk. They’re the last thing on her mind.”

He looked over at her closely, smiling.

“Out of sight, out of mind,” you said, and you started laughing. “And I’m sure they’re the same. Even if they are thinking of her, they could never guess in a million years that she would be tipsy like this. She’s never been this drunk before. She was never much for parties, so she’s kind of a lightweight.”

The guy looked down at the table, trying to hide the subtle signs of maliciousness in his smile.

“Yeah, they won’t be here to see all the hi-jinx she’ll get into.”

The guy played with his hands, looked up at you, then back at your mom.

You said “I need to go to the washroom.” You looked at your mom. “It’s going to be a number two so I’ll be in there a while.” She wasn’t responding. It was clear she had no idea what was going on. You looked over at your table-guest. “Do you have 20 minutes?”

“Yeah, why?”

“That’s how long it usually takes me in there. Can you watch her til I come back? I’ve never seen her this drunk and I’m worried somebody might carry her off.” You laughed good-naturedly. Then you stopped and sighed. “I keep seeing guys staring at her butt and I’m afraid somebody might not realize she’s married and take advantage of her. She’s easy pickings right now.” You pointed at your mom’s drunk face. “Look. She’d be so easy to just carry off right now.” You looked up at him with concern, waiting for his answer. “I mean, it’ll just be 20 minutes, I swear,” and you put up your hands, accommodatingly.

He looked up at you wide-eyed. “I can do that.”

“Thank you so much,” you said. “I barely know my way around this place. If she went missing, I wouldn’t even know where to start looking.”

“No worries,” he said, fidgeting in his chair and biting the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning from ear to ear.

“And if she did go missing, there’s no way I’d tell my brother and dad about something happening to her.” You clasped your hands behind your head. “I couldn’t even tell the staff here because word might get back to my dad that some guy carried her off and I was looking for her. If it did happen, I would just keep my mouth shut, as bad as that sounds.” You looked down at the ground as if you were embarrassed by yourself.

“No, no, it’s understandable,” he said, as he rocked back and forth, pretending like he didn’t even notice who, or what, was sitting beside him and would be, unguarded, for the next 20 minutes.

You got up and said “thanks man, I owe you one,” and you went for the bathroom door. And as you did, the tension that comes from facade was unwound from both your and his face, while your mom’s face, devoid of all concern, stayed exactly the same. You opened the door to the bathroom, and went inside. You stood there for about 20 seconds, looking at yourself in the mirror with wide-eyes as you gripped onto the edge of the sink with both hands. Your stomach was alive with butterflies. “Please, please, please” you whispered to yourself, pleading with God-knows-who. You took a deep breath, exhaled slowly, then you turned around, walked towards the door, then pushed it open and looked up at the place where you and your mom were sitting across the floor.

It was empty.

Your mom’s phone on the table was the only artifact that attested to anyone sitting there at all. It was the first time she had been without her phone in arm’s reach for years.

You crossed the floor and grabbed your mom’s phone and you ran out of the hatched roof of the bar into the sunlight. You knew which building the guy was staying in because he had said to your dad and brother, in a mood of low-key arrogance, that if they would like a rematch, he would be around the area of the tennis courts because his room was nearby. You could take a shortcut through the foliage to that area and wait outside for him and your mom, and you can see which room he was in. Hopefully it was on the first floor.

You started sprinting.

As your arms hit the foliage, the thought hit you: what if he wasn’t taking her to his room. He could be going to the beach. It went all the way down the coast, completely off the premises of the resort if you went far enough. There’d be very few people there if any, and your mom, if you defined ‘there’ as including being aware of where you were, least of all.

You took a sharp turn mid-sprint, causing your arms to flail up in the air in the direction you were initially headed. You were now headed for the D to C road, through which, the detour down to the beach could be found. You felt like your heart was going to burst. Your lungs were on fire. But you couldn’t waste any time. You had to push through it. When you got to the road, your heart jumped out of your chest when you saw him running with your out-of-it mom in his massive arms right passed you. You ducked back into the bush quickly. There was no change in his pace or demeanour, meaning he hadn’t spotted you. You were still on that toilet, blissfully unaware, as far as he knew.


You followed them along through the brush, and you had to sprint width-wise through the path to the beach, which cut through your cover, as it was now becoming obvious, in him passing it, that he was taking her to his room, not the beach like you suspected. You followed him at a modest distance til he got to his building. You ducked under the sun shelter 2 seconds after he disappeared into its shade. You saw him scrambling for his key to Door 2. That was his room. He turned around to check for anybody. You ducked behind the wall. When the coast was seemingly clear, he opened his door and took your mom inside.

He was on the first floor, you thought, and smiled to yourself. Your ran around to the other side of the building. The balconies there, though hanging over a sharp incline, that if you fell down, you would end up only a little scuffled and sandy, lying on the beach, were accessible if you were careful. Though you didn’t want to waist any time or be spotted by the people staying in room 1 as you passed their window and balcony ledge. Luckily nobody was there, and their window had its curtain drawn.

You got to the room-2 balcony and the back door was already open. The curtains were blowing in. You peeked inside, apprehensively. They were in his living room. You ducked back out as quick as you ducked in. He was on top of her, kissing her bikini-clad ass. You peeked back in just as he slid off your mom’s bikini bottoms, exposing her big, fat, nude ass to his greedy sight. Up until then, only your dad, you and your brother, your mom’s female doctor, her friend she goes to the gym with, and her friend’s son had seen her bare-naked ass.

But you hadn’t seen it in years. Not since the last family vacation, when you, your mom, your brother, your mom’s friend, and her son had to use the same shower room because the line up was so big for the others and you couldn’t waste time, lest you be yelled at by ornery camp-goers who wanted to get in and out. You thought seeing your first naked woman, your mom’s friend, would have been the most exciting thing in the world. But really what had you going was seeing your mom’s friend’s son’s erection as he stole glances at your mom’s wet lower half. All three of you had erections in there.

You had thought that your brother had an erection seeing your mom’s friend’s wet, naked body. But a few days later, when your mom’s friend and her son had already left for home, you, your brother, and your mom were hanging out by the beach. When your brother looked over at the showers and saw a long line up, he insisted that the three of you should shower now. Your mom asked why, and he gave a vague answer about how you should shower before it gets dark.

Your mom said that the dark wasn’t a problem, “it’s not like they don’t have light in there, right?” But your brother kept giving vague answers for why you should shower then. You thought that he wanted to shower because of the chance that you’d all be forced into a room with another group of people, hopefully with some attractive mom there, and he’d be able to look at another naked female body. But when your mom suggested he go alone. That it was okay. He didn’t need us with him, your brother decided he didn’t want to.

That night, you, your brother, your mom, and your dad, who had just gotten back from fishing, all took a shower in the same room that you had last time. Your dad and mom were laughing and your dad even slapped your mom’s ass, making a big, wet, satisfying, smack. Your brother’s dick was flaccid. As was yours.

You always wanted to ask him if he got as turned on at that little creep staring at your mom’s bare ass as you did, but you could never muster the nerve.

The tennis champ marvelled at your mom’s ass. His reward for being good with his wrist. As far as he was concerned, the gods of tennis were rewarding him with the wife of the man he dominated on their court. A stellar performance deserves a stellar ass. He pulled down his swimming trunks and out came his cock. It was bigger than your dad’s. It was almost as hard as your’s was now. You lowered your trunks and began tugging on your’s as he pushed his cock into your mom and began pumping. First slowly, enjoying each millimetre of its warm embrace against the nerve endings of his hungry cock. Then faster as he picked up the pace, feeling out the territory that was now his to play in. Then fast as he knows all she’s worth internally, each nuance and detail insider her, and he’s going to collect the joy of what it feels like to do with her what God put him on this planet to do with so many other women.

His body pumped, a beautiful organic machine, into the beautiful organic machine of your mother. He was just as majestic now as he was on that tennis court. But your mom was something else now.

Suddenly, you felt a vibration in your left hand, startling you almost into making a noise and blowing your cover. It was your mom’s phone. A text from your dad was on its digital face. “How are you doing, honey?”

You looked up at your mom being pounded by a flesh-hammer. Her body being put to good use. Her body giving the pleasure it was designed to give to a man made from the same ether your dreams buzzed a beautiful frequency through. Her ass, the wonderful dream of so-many, so delicious they convinced themselves they couldn’t be remembering it right, being had by the man who won a contest, fair and square, for exclusive rights to it, no strings attached.

You opened up her phone quickly and texted your dad back, “Just relaxing. Finally getting into it. Sorry for being so uptight, babe.”

You watched your mom’s perfection mingle with his. It was like the end of the Twilight Zone episode, Eye of the Beholder, where the beautiful woman ended up with the beautiful man in a world where ugliness was the norm. Your mom’s glorious ass had been rescued from your dad’s meagre arms and his balding head. His barely-adequate dick was currently flaccid and shrivelled up in his wet swimming trunks while this beautiful, hard, thick cock pounded the ass that should have been out of your dad’s weight class, never mind hemisphere of the earth. The ass that made men cry. An ass made for royalty and demi-gods, not for the peasants working the field. An ass crafted personally by God himself and he spanked for good luck before sending her through a world with few things as beautiful in it. If he didn’t see this coming, he isn’t even a wise god, never mind an omniscient one. He was looking down at the light he brought into this world, and it was good.

Your mom’s phone vibrated again. “Don’t apologize,” your dad texted, “I’ll give you a good punishing tonight and we’ll be even.”

You texted back “:)” It wasn’t a lie. You really were smiling, but the makeshift emoji failed to capture the nuance in that smile, or that it wasn’t your mom’s face that was smiling. And the smile got bigger when you thought of something. You texted your dad again. “Actually, can we hold off for tonight? I’ve been using the waterslides and they already gave my ass a beating. I honestly don’t think you can compete.”


“Try me ;)” came back almost immediately, interrupting you from looking back up at the heaven before you.

In frustration, without thinking, you typed off quickly “No seriously. I’m here on vacation and i’m finally having fun. I’m not in the mood to fake another orgasm with you or to try to ignore my reflection in your sweaty scalp. Do some sit-ups first and maybe we can talk.” You hit send.

You looked back up at your mom’s ass being made whole for the first time in its existence. Like one side of a heart necklace that had only now found its counter-symmetrical half. The blonde demigod’s pelvis before you was meant to be seen pounding into an ass like this. It was like two odd numbers coming together to make a nice round even one. Two 33’s coming together to become one 66. Or two 333’s. Your mom’s drunk ass bouncing around was sexy, comical, cool, and, also, just a fact of life. A life you fit into perfectly like that gorgeous cock inside your mom’s pussy.

You opened up your mom’s snapchat and you began filming her with it. Her big ass was getting pounded in sideways by the man who made your dad and your brother into a living joke on that tennis court. You made sure to get the guy’s handsome face in the shot too with his gorgeous full head of blonde hair. You then attached the message “Finally able to relax. So satisfying.”

You hit send. Repercussions were the last thing on the frying egg that was your mind. Then you took another snap with your mom’s phone which said “I can finally feel the stress leaving my body. This is what it means to let loose.” Then another one: “I thought nothing could be better than sex with my husband. Boy, was I wrong. So satisfying.” You hit send again.

You were in a freefall, miles away from the jagged cliffs of consequence. A mind without worry was like a room without clutter or dust. Isn’t that what vacation was for? Your phone already started vibrating with messages from snapchat informing you when your mom’s video had been screen captured and by who. On top of that, you knew other people must have been using screen capture software that could capture the video without informing your mom’s snapchat account. She had friends, and coworkers, and her friend’s husbands on there. All of them following her in hopes that they’d get good shots of her, only to be disappointed again and again seeing her in her scrubs documenting boring, grey moments in her professional career and her taking static shots, informational rather than aesthetic, of nice buildings with historical significance. Now they were finally getting to see what they always wanted. If anything, they were seeing more than they ever thought they would ever need. But now that they knew it was an option, they knew they needed it, as the screen capture alert attested.

Your balls had tightened up nicely at the decadent leisure of it all and you came on the carpet in front of you as you watched your mom, free from all the goblins of worry, finally without a self-important care on her vacation. You were no longer horny, at least not for now, but you were still happy seeing your mom’s body, now devoid of any stress in her shoulders, her hands, or her ass cheeks, being ravaged by such a care-free, take life as it comes Adonis. The type of guy not afraid to throw caution to the wind and have some fun with a blackout drunk woman’s blackout drunk ass. Even his testicles slapped around freely without a cloud in their skies.

You were rock hard again. That didn’t take long.

Just thinking about the guys at your mom’s work seeing her like this was driving you crazy. Luckily, your dad didn’t have snapchat. Your brother did. But he left his phone back at the room. He would see this tonight. And he would know that you were the one who took the video and sent it out for the uninitiated world to see.

How would he react? Somewhere deep down in your heart of hearts, you knew, you always knew, that this was all he ever wanted. You would be his cock’s biggest hero for this. It would stand on end again, like it did that day in the shower. You were sure of it.

But what if it didn’t? What if you made a gross miscalculation? Or what if he’s changed since then? Or what if he didn’t want people he knew from every day life seeing his mom like this, only strangers who he would never see again and wouldn’t have to worry about them spreading the news? What if he wanted guys to see her naked, but he didn’t want people seeing her being fucked by a stranger? What if that guy in particular fucking her after embarrassing him on the court was too much for him to bear? What if? What if? What if?

Your mom’s ass rippled wonderfully with each pump in front of you. Your mom murmured sweet nonsense as her soulmate on top of her grunted grotesquely with sick pleasure. You tugged on your cock feverishly as if nothing else mattered in the world.

Who cares what your brother’s reaction was going to be. You were on vacation. Now wasn’t the time for worry. It was time to have fun.

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