That was enough. I turned away and ran to my room. There I stumbled into the shower and masturbated three or four times in a row. It was a release, but it didn't feel good. Helplessness was mind-numbing. What could I even do? He already fucked my mother, this will no change, ever. What do I do and say tomorrow? Should I fight him? Maybe I should say nothing. What if it happens again? Maybe I shouldn't spy. Well, yeah, it was none of my business. If I got myself a slut and fucked her all night long, would Arthur have cared? Does he even properly realize it's my mother? Yeah, this isn't the end of the world. I got into bed tried forcing myself to fall asleep.
***
In the morning my train of thought was unbroken, as if I did not sleep. I had nightmares and was laughably horny. I washed my face, brushed my teeth - all the while thinking whether Arthur was still in mom's room. How did they go to sleep? How did they wake up? Did he fuck her first thing in the morning? Did she suck him off? Did their neighbours hear them do it?
When I met with the guys, they were talking. Arthur had a sly grin. Appallingly, when I walked towards them, they immediately stopped. What? Was he bragging? Was he actually telling others about fucking "Helen" all night long? I couldn't believe it, and I didn't. What sort of friends would take this lightly? Frustration and jealousy were building up in me, but I couldn't think of a single word to say. My ex-school friend has violated the deep-seated carnal privacy of my mother, but mom was above my authority.
When we met her, mom was wearing a yellow bikini. She kept to herself. There was no way of telling she fucked Arthur yesterday. Throughout the day, someone would occasionally glance at my mother's ass, but nothing else happened beside Arthur courting her slightly.
At sunset I went "for a walk" around the terrace to see if something unwholesome was brewing. Nothing was. I felt better. Mom's room was empty, so was Arthur's. "Wait, are they at the beach?" I thought to myself - and went there right away. They weren't. I walked back, once more at relative ease, and stumbled on Jimmy. He was chatting with some tech guy about something.
"Seen Arthur?" I said.
"He and David picked up your mom and went out with her. She felt down, so they had to be the gentlemen," he said and looked at me. "What?"
"Nothing. That's cute," I said, and walked off.
Then immediately I walked back and asked where they took her, but he didn't know.
I went to my room and locked myself there. It was a bit overboard. But maybe this one wasn't like yesterday. This could not have turned into a sex tour with my mother in the middle. Even despite what happened yesterday, this was unlikely. They'll be back by eight or nine and go to their rooms. If Arthur tries to force himself on my mother, I'll tail and protect her.
They weren't back by nine. At eleven, their rooms were still empty. I crept through the terrace every hour, offended and desperate. To relax, I went to the shower and masturbated - this horrible ordeal was making me jealous and horny. Finally, at about two in the morning, when the hotel was for the most part asleep, I heard people walk past my door, and jumped out of my bed.
I crept through the terrace once more and watched David's room. Yes, it was him. And Arthur was back in his own room - I saw him walk towards his bed, pick up his phone that was resting on it, and throw it back down in annoyance. I went to my mother's window and saw her coming right in. She was wearing a short skirt and a classy white shirt. Stepping out of high heels, mom artlessly stripped - I could see pale tanlines on her slightly pink skin, - threw her clothes in a heap and stumbled into the shower.
I waited for half a minute. Nobody else was coming. Mom started to sing to herself. So I unlocked the door through the window and crept inside.
The room smelt of mild alcohol - she's been drinking. I looked around and noticed the bunch of her clothes and underwear. Following an impulse, I fished out her panties. They were dirty, plain and simple. Then her cellphone played a jingle, making me startle. It was a "Good-night, Helen" message from David. Fuck you, "friend". Surprisingly, Jimmy was now the only one of my friends who has't betrayed me. But, closing the message, I saw that the photo app was still running. I opened the photos and saw thumbnails that hinted at something revolting. I selected the bunch and mailed them to myself.
Then I crept out of the room. Only when I was "home" I noticed that I was still holding mom's stained underwear. But she was probably drunk. She may think she lost them somewhere in the room. And I didn't even care.
In my room, I picked up my tablet and downloaded the photos. A whole bunch of dimly lit thumbnails swamped my photo roll. I opened the first one and saw mom with David, at the table, with Arthur apparently shooting. Next one had David with his hand on mom's shoulder. They were at some sort of bar. Next, mom was drinking, smiling sheepishly. But I saw that she was having fun. Her face was pink, eyes moist, smile across her face as if she's constantly laughing. Every further picture mom was getting more drunk. Then I saw her dancing with David, and then a few dozens of the same. It was like a slideshow: his hands on her waist, her chin on his shoulder, her face tucked into his neck. They did a spin, and David's hand slipped a bit down towards her ass. I could see how her breasts were squeezed against him, how her thighs and ass moved under the skirt with her every step. Mom saw Arthur taking photos and drunkenly waved to stop, but he apparently didn't. They continued to dance - I could see her from every angle. When they were back at the table, there were more drinks waiting for them. Mom sipped something clear. She was getting drunk.
Next photo was outside, her standing under the street lamp. Next - she was standing with her hands cross in front of her, pulling her shirt over her bra-covered breasts. Even through intoxication, though, she thought that was enough, because the next blurry photos were of her fixing her clothes, laughing and pushing the camera away with both hands. The very next photo was of them walking, and Arthur's tan tattooed hand pulling my mother's shirt down so the cut would reveal her pink cleavage. A middle-aged passer-by was casually glancing at my mother's right breast. More blurry photos of her struggling, and then she was standing with David under another street lamp, him facing the camera, her in front, facing him, - like a pair of lovers. My mother - looking smaller, shorter, thinner and younger than ever in those clothes and that sort of twilight, - she stood so close to his body, as if ready to embrace. She was like his girlfriend. Next photo - he's pulled up her skirt, showing her fat round ass, barely covered with panties, mom's hands blurry as she was laughing and fighting him.
Full of anxiety, I spread those panties on the bed in front of me. It was red with a black line, smelling of sweat and perfume. Mom, you're not a teenager. Can't you control yourself? But at least I hoped they didn't actually do her. Maybe they just fooled around.
I picked up the tablet. Next photo had mom standing exactly the same - under the street lamp, in front of David, her back to the camera, skirt rolled up, but panties pulled down to the knees. There were marks on her ass from tight underwear cutting into it and some minor sunburn. Next - the photographer was standing behind her, touching her buttocks with his dick. Then: my mother still in David's embrace, now hanging on his neck, bent forward, the photo from above showing Arthur's cock sliding far into her. There were several photos like that; then they turned her around her - now David was taking my mom from behind. Arthur has unbuttoned her shirt, so mom's breasts were now hanging out. Someone's hand was pinching and twisting a nipple. Next photo was of mom on her knees, somewhere dark, sucking off the photographer, Arthur's hand in her hair, pearly stain in the corner of her mouth.
Then I thought to myself: suppose I was a 40-year old guy, and two of my daughter's best friends, both very attractive young women, got me drunk and took me on a sexual adventure. Would I play hard-to-get? Of course mom got fucked, they both fucked her raw, she was washing their semen out of her pussy right now in the shower, dousing with hot water the parts of her body that still held the memory of their groping fingers. At one point today, they spread her legs and plumbed the cunt of my closest relative, my nurse and my mother, brought her to an orgasm, make her drunk pussy ache. My only defence against any of this was now history. What else could I do? How could I possibly lord over the guy who is more experienced than me, and who fucks my mother? For a second, I wanted to go to his room, cry and beg him to not fuck my dear mom anymore, because it hurt, aroused and abused me. I wanted to tell him how jealous it made me that, while I was a virgin, my classmates' conquests included even my own mother.
***
Next day on the beach mom was wearing her one-piece again. To my surprise, she soon shooed Arthur away. She didn't go swimming. Later, at noon, when we went back to our rooms, I wandered around for a bit and ended up walking into my mother's room. She was taking a shower.
"Who is it?" she said, stopping the water.
"It's me, mom."
"Wait a few minutes, ok?" she said and turned the water back on.
I looked around. Her swimsuit was on the chair. I could see a bit of of it's inside, slightly padded at the crotch, thinner at the part that went between her legs and over her ass. Her travelling bag was on the bed - and I noticed an opened pack of hygienic tampons. One was missing - it's package lay on the table - and it all clicked together. So that's what happened! Starting today, my mom was on period. And - my god, it was over. Fucking my mother was over. The vacation was ruined, but the feeling of dread I was having throughout the day was now almost gone. Thank you, dear God. I was scared and offended, I was jealous and powerless, but now it was over.
