Watch the ball!
"Watch the ball! Watch the ball!" encouraged my Dad as he and my Mother patted the small pink ball back and forth with the little wooden bats expertly. When it came my way I missed it totally, every time.
I was watching the ball, just not the one my Dad was referring to.
### ### ###
I wasn't in the habit of going on holiday with my parents. That had stopped years ago. I went with my girlfriends, four of them to the clubbing spots of Europe. Sun, sea, sand and sex. Well not so much sand, that tended to get everywhere, but the sea was very welcome, especially on the way back to the hotel after a particularly heavy night of sexual indulgences. The cool, salty water cooled the a sore, well fucked cunt perfectly, ready for a good sleep and another night of delicious hedonism the following night.
I've been sexually active for a long time. Moved in with my boyfriend, with my parent's blessing, before I finished full time education. A good fuck every night and a quickie every morning. It lasted two years.
We had a party to go to. He didn't fancy it so sent me off on my own. Met a guy. He just stroked my bum, cool as you like. It felt good. He suggested we head for one of the bedrooms. I agreed. He closed the door, proceeded to take my short skirt and tiny panties off then told me to lay on the bed. I did and he went straight down on me! Even before I'd offered to blow him much less fuck him.
I was cummin in less that thirty seconds and he kept it up for over ten minutes. People came in to see what all the noise was about. I ignored them. They watched a while then wandered off, leaving the door open. We had an audience. I didn't give a shit. We fucked, with an audience. I cared not, not even when I went down on him and made him hard again. We were in that bedroom for over an hour and received a massive round of applause when we eventually returned to the party.
He wasn't available but my boyfriend still became my ex the following lunchtime when I returned to our flat. I was fair though. Eat my cunt or find someone else to suck your cock!
I don't miss him.
I moved in with some girlfriends. I have Nigel's number in my contacts. We have coffee now and again and, once in a while, a good old fashioned NSA sex session.
So, why was I on holiday with my parents, at my age?
My girlfriends and I had booked to go to Ayia Napa in Cyprus for our holidays. For those not based in Europe, that's sex city for the late teens and early twenties. Let's put it this way. Girls go there to get fucked and boys go there to get fucked. Nuff said. If a girl plans to wear undies when she goes out clubbing she'd better take plenty coz, sure as hell, she won't remember where she, or somebody else, removed them the previous night.
So, we booked the holiday and looked forward to being excessively naughty for the entire holiday.
I only live about a mile from my parents. I went round for breakfast the Sunday morning following our making the booking. They weren't early risers on Sundays.
"We've booked our holiday," I announced as we sat down to brunch.
"That's good dear," replied my Mother, "anywhere nice?"
Have you noticed that when you say that you're going on holiday somebody always asks if it's 'anywhere nice'? Like you'd book a holiday to a dump where it rains all the time, the food's lousy, it's bloody cold and the air pollution is over 100%.
"Yes Mum, I hope so. Aiya Napa, in Cyprus, y'know?" I replied with a grin.
"Yes Dear, I know," chuckled my Mother, "just make sure you don't drink too much. It's nice to remember, when you wake up sometime the following day, that you had a really good time."
"And it's also nice to know the name of the guy beside you in the bed," added my Dad.
"George!" remonstrated my Mum, "Sarah's on the pill, it doesn't matter."
That wasn't something I expected to hear from my Mother, even if it were true.
So, we're all set to go. Sunscreen, Check. Condoms? Check. Lube? Check. Tiny bikini? Check. That was the Monday. On Tuesday the travel company went bust!! Tuesday evening Mum rang to see if we'd managed to make alternative arrangements. Nothing. No flights available, anywhere. Plenty of empty hotel rooms, probably but no means of getting there.
"Well, look," she offered, "If you get desperate y'Dad says you're very welcome to come with us. We leave Friday about 6pm. You just need to let us know by Friday morning, OK?"
### ### ###
So here I am, on holiday with my parents, on a nice sandy beach playing bat and ball.
With three of us driving Dad's big Mercedes estate gobbled up the kilometers. I'd often teased him about having a big car for just the two of them. I wouldn't any more. We arrived just after noon almost as fresh as when we'd left home. Our chalet was ready and waiting. Dad rented it out most of the high season but for the last week of the low season and the first of the high. Those were always reserved for Mum and Dad.
Dad and me unpacked while Mum went to the site shop for the makings of a light lunch. Lunch then a shower to freshen up before hitting the beach. That's when the holiday most decidedly changed from being a boring holiday with Mum and Dad to being a lot less boring and a lot more exciting.
We hit the beach, a distance of some five yards from the cabin door, walked down to the tide line and turned left, away from the crowd. Lots of people were walking the same way. I didn't think a thing about it... Until we reached the post with a large wooden sign in four languages. 'Clothing optional' said the English text.
Mum stopped dead in her tracks and put her beach bag down on the sand. Dad put down his big, stuffed beach bag and unzipped her short summer dress. Mum wriggled her shoulders and the dress dropped to the sand. Without so much as a bye-your-leave she bent, picked it up and put it in her beach bag. Mum was stark naked. I gawped in amazement but Mum seemed totally oblivious. She bent down in front of Dad and yanked his shorts down. He stepped out of them and Mum added them to her bag. Dad was stark naked as well.
They'd both acted as if I wasn't there. Didn't even exist. Mum picked up her bag. Dad picked up his and they set off down the beach. I stood there for a moment in shock. Was I expected to strip naked? Loads of guys had seen me naked before, just before we fucked usually, but never a whole beach full! Plus women and families. My parents didn't look back just plodded up the beach towards a reasonably clear spot. I slipped off my dress, put it in my bag, hesitated a moment before unfastening my bikini top and adding that to my bag. My bottoms stayed on. I wasn't ready for full nudity, in public AND in front of my parents just then.
Mum was laying out the beach rug and Dad setting up the beach shelter when I got up to them. They turned and smiled at me.