Weekend at the Cape

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Note: The following story is entirely fictional and all of the characters are over 18 years of age.


Hello. My name is Miguel and I live with my mother in the city of Boston. My father passed away when I was quite young and the two of us have been on our own for as long as I can remember.

My mother was rather young when she had me, thus, growing up, she seemed more like a big sister than a mother. A big sister, that is, who worked, paid the bills, kept me fed and raised me single-handedly.

One of the many reasons that I adore my mother is that she was always brutally honest with me, especially when it came to finances. If we couldn’t afford something, she said so and why. If we could, and it made sense, she always spent the money.

This past summer I graduated from high school and turned eighteen. For many residents of Boston and the surrounding towns, summer means time spent on Cape Cod. However, even a modest weekly rental is very expensive. I would be leaving for college soon, so early in the summer my mother posed an idea.

“I’m not sure we can afford an entire week, but how would you like to go to the Cape for a long weekend, before you leave?”

This was classic Mom. She always spoke about what “we” could afford.

Although I had worked for the past two summers, the funds for this vacation would come entirely from her. It was understood that almost all the money I earned was put away for my college education.

To me, staying on the Cape was always something that “other” people did, families with two incomes that lived in the nicer suburbs, or the upper-crust of Boston.

We went to the beach, North or South, almost every weekend in the summer, but it was always for day-trips requiring a long drive back to the city at day’s end.

“Mom, that sounds great!” I said.

Her eyes lit up and she went to work.

Mom settled on a modest three-bedroom ranch in a town called “Dennis.” Supposedly, the house was within walking distance of the beach. Mom explained that this town was in the middle of Cape Cod, so the trip should take less than two hours. For city-dwellers like us, it could have been Mars.

“Since there are three bedrooms, I’m thinking of inviting one of my sisters, as well, as long as you don’t mind.”

I had no objection, and after a few calls, Mom found that her sister, my Aunt Lola, was free that weekend, but couldn’t come until Sunday, because of work. My Aunt Lola was a couple of years younger than my mother. Still single, she worked as a hairdresser in the neighborhood where she lived. I would drop by the salon from time to time, ostensibly with a message from my mother, but really just to get a look at all of the gorgeous girls who always seemed to fill the place.

On a Saturday, just before Labor Day, we loaded up our car and headed south.

As Mom predicted, we arrived in just under two hours and wound our way through the Kıbrıs Escort narrow streets until we found our place. As we got out of the car and stretched, I noticed how quiet it was. Living in the city, one gets used to a certain level of background noise, from traffic, sirens, alarms, airplanes, etc.

Here, a hundred miles from home, it seemed as quiet as the Moon.

Up and down the street, we could see other families emptying their cars and hauling their things into their places. Mom explained that this was a weekly ritual called “changeover,” and we were part of it, now. She had read a bit and she was proud of her new knowledge, having become quite the expert on the Cape since she had booked our modest little house.

We entered the house and had a look around. We saw a nice living room with a sofa and some comfortable looking chairs, and, absurdly, a fireplace that I doubt worked. The large kitchen got a nod of approval from Mom, and there was a sliding door that led outside to a deck, next to the house.

Like kids at camp, we rushed to claim our bedrooms. We laughed at the third bedroom. It was tiny with a single small bed, so we decided that that had to go to Lola, since she would be the last to arrive. The other bedrooms were similar, with twin beds in each. I could see that the owner had set the place up for maximum occupancy. I also knew that unbeknownst to the owners, gangs of college kids were sometimes known to fill places like this with up to twenty people at a time, to defray expenses.

Still, the place was clean and neat. Being the man, I said I’d take the bedroom in the front of the house, and Mom was happy with the one in the back.

After unpacking, we walked out on to the deck and then into the backyard. Although still small, the backyard was much larger than our tiny one back in the city.

Then we saw something strange. An eye-level fence bracketed, not the yard, but the rear of the house. We moved over to the door and unlatched it. It led to a private area with an outdoor shower.

“Isn’t this great?” Mom exclaimed.

Mom then proceeded to explain that showers such as this were used when people returned from the beach, if they wished to rinse the sand off before entering the house.

Pointing to the soap and shampoo on a little shelf, Mom winked and said “But they can be used anytime.”

There was only one shower inside (like in our house), but I suddenly liked the idea of showering outside. In fact, the more I thought about it, the more it excited me.

The afternoon stretched ahead of us so we changed into our bating suits and walked the short distance to the beach. Mom was exhausted from the drive and she promptly dozed off in her chair. She had applied sunscreen, so I wasn’t worrying about her burning, but I decided to keep an eye on her, anyway. Meanwhile, I set about scouring the beach for some nice bodies. After Magosa Escort a bit, I looked over my dozing mother.

Mom had worn her floppy hat, because she was afraid of getting wrinkles on her face. At the age of 37, her skin was still smooth and soft. Now late in the summer, her skin was deeply tanned. I could only see the lower half of her face, her very cute nose and her full lips, as usual, painted bright red. Mom was wearing a green bikini.

As I looked over her body, I noticed again how proportional everything seemed. He breasts were not large, but they were round and firm. Her legs were not long, but they were shapely. Her hands were beautiful, topped off by long nails, painted bright red. Mom painted her toenails as well.

After a short nap, Mom declared that she was hot and needed to hit the water in order to cool off a bit. I declined, but I enjoyed the view as she picked her way down to the water’s edge. I had always liked watching my mother’s full rear end, especially when it was in motion like this.

Being late summer, the water had turned cold (if it had ever warmed up). I knew Mom missed the warm ocean of her native Puerto Rico, but she still tried to get in and swim a bit. She soon gave up and came back, shivering. I couldn’t help noticing that Mom’s nipples were rock hard and sticking straight out. In addition, the water had rendered her bikini top nearly see-through, thus, I got a great look at the size and shape of her nipples.

Before she turned to sit down again, I tried to glance at her crotch, but I couldn’t see anything interesting.

“I wouldn’t recommend going in that water” she managed, through slightly chattering teeth.

Mom soon dried off and was comfortable, again.

By four in the afternoon, we were ready to head back.

Since Mom had been in the water, she wanted to try the outdoor shower. I chuckled and headed inside as Mom went around back. I went to the kitchen to get something to drink. Above the sink, there was a widow with a screen. We had opened it before to let some air in, and as I heard the shower hissing, I realized the window was right next to, and above the shower. I couldn’t see my mother, but I could see her bathing suit lying on the changing bench.

“Miguel!” she called out.

“Yeah, ma” I called back, leaning into the window.

“Jesus, where are you?” she asked, obviously a little startled.

“This is the kitchen window” I called down, tapping on the screen.

“Oh, OK. Do you think you could bring me my shampoo, please? It’s in my bag.”

“Sure, no problem” I replied.

I found her shampoo and went around back.

As I approached the gate, behind which my naked mother was washing, my steps slowed. I felt as if I were having trouble breathing. I carefully lifted the latch and stepped inside. My mother had her head under the streaming water and she was running her hands up Girne Escort into her hair. Her back was slightly arched and her breasts were sticking out as the water cascaded down. I couldn’t believe how incredibly beautiful she looked.

I was only wearing my bathing suit. I immediately pushed it down and kicked it aside. My mother opened one eye and watched me as I approached. Without a word, she handed me the thick bar of soap and indicated that I should start with her back. As she shampooed her own hair, slowly, I washed her neck, shoulders, back, and then the globes of her ass. I moved down her legs before returning to her gorgeous rear end.

Gently, I moved a soapy finger over her butt hole. Slowly, I pushed the finger inside and worked it completely around. Then I turned my mother around and began working my way up the front of her body.

My mother’s pussy was completely shaved. I could feel the stubble as I ran my soapy hand over the area. Mom’s eyes were closed, and I washed her navel and stomach. I straightened up to begin washing her breasts. Her nipples were hard again, but not from the cold ocean. She kept her eyes closed as I finished with her arms. She giggled as I put some soap on her face and then rinsed us both off.

“Your turn” she said softly as she gently spun me to face the house.

As she washed my legs and then my ass cheeks, I tightened up. Then I felt her index finger enter my anus. I was imagining the long red nail at the end of that finger, but she couldn’t have been gentler. When she turned me around, she washed my thighs, upper body and arms.

I was assuming she was going to skip washing my penis, or ask me to do it, but she knelt on the bathmat and soaped her hands.

She then reached around and held my legs with her left arm. With her right hand, she began slowly washing my balls and then my penis. I am sure that she noticed that I, too, had taken to shaving off all of my pubic hair.

My dick had been rock hard since I approached the fence, and now my mother ran her hand along the length of it. With the lubrication from the soap and water, her hand glided easily up and down the length of my shaft.

When she finished, she rinsed the soap off.

Then, incredibly, she leaned in and sucked my penis right into her mouth!

I looked down, and she tilted her head up as she began stroking and sucking. Her eyes were lit as if she were enjoying herself immensely. Mom’s hand and mouth were working magic.

I hadn’t jerked off in days, so I knew quite a load was coming.

Mom sensed when I was close and she began stroking faster, using just her index finger and thumb, her eyes never leaving mine.

Waves of intense pleasure washed over me as I began shooting my load.

“Ughhhhh…” I moaned, not caring if the neighbors heard.

The suction from Mom’s mouth was incredible!

Mom slowed her stroking, but she kept me in her mouth until I was spent.

I helped her to her feet, and we embraced warmly under the running water. I couldn’t help but plant a kiss on her beautiful lips.

“Mmmmm, nice” she responded.

We turned off the water, and then she said “Uh, you didn’t happen to bring a towel, did you?”

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