As the days went on in our two-week stay we became more and more casual in our morning-wear. Mum would come out of her bedroom in nothing more than a towel on her way to and from the bathroom, likewise me, and the boys and my Dad, having started off in T-shirts and shorts put on specially for the occasion after sleeping naked in bed no doubt, moved on to just shorts and in Shah’s case, a sarong. We weren’t wearing much more at home than on the beach.
We were all in a permanent state of arousal, and at breakfast one morning, my Mum with the glow that the freshly fucked have, said, “Leo and I are feeling like making this our second honeymoon, so we’re thinking that we could do our own thing while you kids do yours.”
“You mean, we stay in another villa?”, asked Chris.
“No, sweetheart, just that we don’t necessarily make plans to have lunch and dinner together all the time, and if we don’t come out of our room at breakfast it’s because we’re sleeping in, so no need to wake us or anything.” My Dad was blushing a little.
“Here’s some money for you to spend as you like, it should be enough, let me know if it isn’t,” said Dad, and handed over a wad of drachmas to me and Chris. Shah didn’t get any directly, my Dad and he were still a little stand-offish, but it was Shah’s arm that Mum squeezed as Dad gave us the money.
“So, that’s that then,” said Dad, as he rose from the breakfast table and took Mum’s hand and led her away. They came out from their bedroom a minute later, “have a good day, dears,” said Mum. And they went off in the car.
“What shall we do?”, I asked the others.
“Beach?”, said Chris.
Beach it was. Only that day, it felt a bit different. Like we were exposed to the sun and wind without any shelter. It felt like there was less to do, less to talk about, less things to look at. It’s not that Shah or Chris were boring, but we all somehow seemed bored. “Only the boring get bored,” was one of my Dad’s favourite sayings as I was growing up whenever I expressed disinterest in what he was doing, and boring was something I couldn’t be.
When we got back to the villa that afternoon we cut up watermelon and wore them as helmets which was good for a laugh, but Mum and Dad weren’t home, and only came in, as we were going out for dinner.
“Darlings, hope you had a good day,” said Mum. “Your Dad and I found a new beach on the other side of the island, and I think we’ll be going there tomorrow too. We’re having dinner with some friends at their villa, so don’t wait up. See you at breakfast, alright?”, she patted Chris on the chest and that was them in and us out.
We got on our scooters, for the ride to the shore. “Burger?”, said Chris, yearningly. Shah and I looked at the little giant, and laughingly agreed.
We didn’t hear Mum and Dad come in that night, we didn’t even hear them shag. Whatever they’d been up to had really tired them out.
We saw them at breakfast though, humming with the vibration of the much in love. Dad ate ravenously, Mum fondled her coffee cup, drinking slowly. She looked a little far away at times.
“Penny for your thoughts?,” I asked.
“It’ll take a lot of pounds, to get at what your Mum’s thinking,” said Dad with a chuckle.. A delicious bread-crumb nestled in his chest hair. Hair that narrowed down all the way to the top of his shorts. You know, my Mum was good-looking, but all of us kids got our features from our Dad and he was quite the square-jawed, broad-shouldered handsome one. If I wasn’t his daughter…..anyway, I still fancied his brother, my uncle the carpenter something awful and had had my first crushes and fingering fantasies all about him. He was certainly nicer to me overall than my Dad ever was.
Mum kissed all of us (except Dad, ha!) when she got up from the table and said, “we might see you tonight, but we’ll be out with our friends again. Can you get some milk and more of that cheese you like, darling —
“Nutellla”, said the jar-emptying fiend that was Chris.
“And some bread and olives,” said Mum.
“We had some good retsina last night,” said Shah, “we’ll get a few bottles for the house.”
“And some ouzo”, said Dad.
For one of the few times that whole trip, Shah and Dad looked each other eye to eye, mano a mano, the competitiveness expressing itself over alcohol this time.
“Sure,” said Shah, with a smile.
As we all set out to do our regular things for the day, Mum and Dad in the car, Chris, Shah, and I on our scooters, Chris said, “I think I’m gonna do my own thing today if you don’t mind, just do some exploring.” And he whizzed away.
“That’s our boy,” said Shah, as if waving off a son to university. I played the bereft mother, wiping tears away and then I grabbed Shah’s crotch. And pulled him back towards the house.
I took my clothes off as we went in, pulling Shah’s shorts down, and sucked him off in the doorway.
It was one of those blowjobs where it was all about me and not him, I took him deep, and loved the silkiness of his cock as it went over and across my tongue, the ridge of his head being a 3D mouthful that I could savour for hours. Shah pushed my hair back with two hands, his fingers stroking my ears and jawline, he leant back against the wall, his shorts around his ankles and as I brought him off with my mouth and left hand, squeezing his balls every now and then, and pressing against his arsehole, I played myself, stroking and fingering with my right. Shah’s big toe got in there too, but my fingers had more control as I knelt in front of him but I had him rub his instep up against me and my wetness from below. My pubes added a lot to the feeling, actually. So much was going through my body and head, I can remember it now, the sweat running off our bodies, the warmth and taste of Shah’s cock, the songs of the birds, the whirr of the bees and dragonflies, the swish of a passing car or scooter, I sensed everything but I was blind to all except cock and mouth, cock and mouth.