Mother Love


Sitting in the hired car, on the way to the beach, I was thinking that I really shouldn’t be. My daughters and their two boyfriends: it was their holiday and I was felt like the fifth wheel. But the feeling all round on their part was sincere and unanimous, I should join them in the south of France. They’d rented a three-bed villa for a week a long time back and practically at the last minute another couple who were friends of theirs, had to pull out because of `tensions’ (they were splitting up).

“We want someone we’re comfortable with Mummy,” said Evie my eldest, (she’s 25, Andie my other daughter is 22), “someone who’s just going to be fun and no stress and who we can be just be ourselves with. It’s all paid for, it’s got a pool and everything and all you’ve got to do is just bring a cozzie, flip-flops and a sun-hat. We’ll take care of all the rest.” It was a nice offer: they showed me the pictures, the villa looked very attractive and the colours and the way the rooms and outdoor area came alive in the Mediterranean sun, it was going to be different to another summer in the cottage in Shropshire (nice as that was, and the one thing I really wanted in the divorce settlement.)

It had been three years since the girls’ father and I broke up but truth was, we’d been drifting apart a long time. He was older then me by ten years, his head always in books and mechanical diagrams and the last time we’d slept in the same bed, let alone had sex, had been almost ten years ago. The girls and my teaching at a primary school dominated my life after that, along with regular visits to my parents at their farm. Edward had been my first and last lover and we married in my final year at university when I was carrying Evelyn (Evie). The sex in the beginning was everything I thought it should be, wanton, free and always forthcoming. But he got older, so did I, so did the kids and being naked all day and just doing everything without clothes, without inhibitions, just didn’t seem possible for a couple as British as us.

I’d tried dinners and hand-holdings with a few men since the divorce (not before, mind) and had put my profile on an internet dating service but the men just had some pungent edge to them in the way they came across, like ripe cheese, that made me realise that when a man, no matter how old he is, spends time with a woman, it’s really just one thing he’s after. I like to seduce and be seduced and not be measured up for penetrative possibilities within seconds of introduction.

Young men though, like my daughters’ boyfriends of whom the current two, Stephen and Derek were the best yet, I liked them. They are polite and attentive and genuinely want to impress – not to get into my knickers but maybe to make sure I wouldn’t get in the way of them getting into my daughters’!

Anyway, so there we were thigh to thigh, in the back seat, me, Andie and Steve with Derek in the front and Evie driving, on our way to what we were told was `une plage idyllique’, a way off the beaten track and really used by local families and villa-renters about 30 kilometres from Montpellier. I love feeling warm. When I retire I’m going to get a place where it’s sunny all year-round. I’d been scanning the local newspapers’ property sections by our poolside since we’d come in the day before. A small place in the sun was just about affordable – but I’d have to sell the cottage! And one of the pleasures of living in England is coming home after a long walk on a wet and windy day to a house warmed by a fire and the smell of burning aromatic wood.

We reached a car-park of sorts, a couple of hundred yards away from the beach proper, took out all our things and walked down to the beach. At 10.30 in the morning there were already about a hundred people there. Young and old, children and grandparents, walking, chatting, sitting, lying down. The waves were coming in gently around the rock formations on either side of the beach and the water was a trademark greeny-blue. Sailboats in the distance and birds wheeling over our heads.

Yes, idyllic!

We found a spot about halfway between shore and head-rock behind us and started making ourselves comfortable on the soft, fine sand, just the kind I like.

“I don’t know about you, girls, but I’m going topless,” said Steve. He’d seen, like I had, like everyone must have, that just about everyone else at the beach was. It was a lovely day, water sparkling as far as the eye could see, golden light bouncing off the golden sand, laughter ringing out every where. It all even smelt special.

Andie looked at Evie, as Steve stripped off his polo-shirt as did Derek and with an exchange of smiles that was partly taunting, shy, and knowing, all at the same time, the girls just let their sun-dresses fall off their shoulders on to the towels they were standing on, to be followed seconds later by their bikini tops.

It was the first time in years I’d seen the breasts of both my daughters. Sure, whenever they’d beylikdüzü anal yapan escort come to stay in their university holidays whenever their father wasn’t around I might see one of them walking in and out of the bathroom or their bedroom semi-naked but both girls naked in front of me, that I hadn’t seen for a long time, in fact not since before they both had breasts and used to take showers and baths together on Sunday nights.

Andie and Evie had grown up to be beautiful girls. I’m biased but even objectively you would say they were extremely attractive girls. They had great figures, lovely skin, wonderful smiles and being blonde never hurts does it? They posed for a formal picture of themselves as teenagers and gave it to me for my birthday a couple of years ago. It’s one of my favourites. They look like European princesses. How me and Edward – not the handsomest couple in the history of provincial England – ever made such a beautiful pair I will never know! They aren’t models or model-like but boys have been crazy about them from the start. They are just real girls who go to pubs and eat chips and dance and dress well and laugh at all the right things.

Steve and Derek were quite handsome themselves, but I think they knew that their girlfriends were on a different level. Steve is quite a few years older than Andie, they actually met through Evie. It’s a long story, actually not that long, but for a few weeks Evie and Steve were very interested in each other and I think only the fact that Steve discovered he and Andie got on even better made Steve and Evie realize it wasn’t going to work out between them. That and the fact that Evie thinks Steve’s dress sense is just hopeless! But they really did have something and Evie fell for him very strongly at the start and when she found out that Steve liked Andie she went venomous.

She may be young and angelic looking but little Andie’s capable of getting her own way against the grown-ups quite often. Andie had forced Steve’s hand by telling Evie about how he had admitted to her that he was “in a dilemma”. Evie’s ego meant she had to dump Steve straight away of course, leaving Andie to gather up the rosebuds. Anyway, that was last year. In between Evie met Derek (another older man – I think the girls have an Electra complex) and as the sisters compete, (Andie and Steve were seriously in love by now) Evie decided that Derek was `the one’. He actually is quite worthy of the title. He’s younger than Steve, but looks older and acts older too. He is a bit non-athletic wide-boyish, you know the type – loud shirts and spectacularly lined suit-jackets all eye-catching enough to hide the fact that he has one and a half-chins and more than a chrysalis of a paunch.

Derek moves in monied circles. It was his friends who pulled out at the last minute and if you and I were to dig deeper into Derek’s and Evie’s relationship, the fact that she was actually relieved that Derek’s friends weren’t here, says a lot about how comfortable my daughter and her latest boyfriend really are. I asked Evie at the start of her relationship with Derek, how the sex was between them, (because it is important) and she said it was very good. Derek did ooze testosterone, that he did, and seeing him at the pool and here at the beach I could see that although he might be carrying a few more pounds in weight than the ideal, he had a broad chest and thick thighs and arms covered in dark hair and I’m sure he was a bull in bed. I heard him and Evie the night before, making veal chops. He was wearing patterned draw-string shorts which looked expensive.

Steve wore something quite different. Tight trunks like Daniel Craig in his first Bond movie. They looked good on Steve. He had a slim boyish body and generally looked a lot younger than Derek, even though he was two years older at 31. Nice hair on his chest, not too much, and a trail of hair from there down to and around his his belly-button and from there into the white waistband band of his orange trunks. He really was like a boy grown-up. Andie fell for his smile. Evie did too. It was very, very charming I have to say. Sometimes I just thought Steve was too charming. He could twinkle and say and do all the right things with words and gestures that Oscar Wilded across a room. Sometimes I thought he was gay and his attracting women was all an act. I wondered if he would really be able to dig deep into himself and be man enough for marriage, children, responsibilities. Andie loved him very much but she has always needed someone strong to keep her on an even-keel. I hoped Steve had these depths, hidden as they’d been up to now.

The girls really did look beautiful as they stood side by side, sharing a bottle of water. Andie was two inches shorter than Evie, a little fuller in the body compared to Evie’s slim frame. Andie’s breasts were about a cup smaller than Evie’s too, always had been. There they were, my daughters beylikdüzü balıketli escort wearing just a couple of scraps of clothing in front of me, their mother and their boyfriends, who weren’t wearing much more. I checked that my breasts were properly tucked in.

“Turn round, darlo,” said Derek and he applied sunscreen over her back and the backs of her legs. Andie did the same to Steve after she put some on her front and throat. I did myself, my front at least, around the neckline and bust of my `proper’ swimming costume. My breasts at 46 (and 36CC), were full and rounded and yes, drooping a little, but I was proud of my bum and legs and of my tummy. I looked about three months pregnant and that was OK with me. I was taking care of myself and not just with a vibrator.

“Swim, Karen?” asked Steve.

“No kids, you go on ahead, I’ll take care of the things. You go on, I’ll go in later.” I was getting increasingly aware that I was the odd one out. Older, maybe not wiser, certainly not as beach-bodied and of course, I wasn’t topless. I was `The Mother’, there to be sensible.

I looped all the bags and straps behind my head, laid down on the towel and waved the children off. They really did look as good as anyone on the beach, I thought, as I saw them weave their way through the other sunbathers. So many of them were topless! And middle-aged women too! Even the elderly! They had great hives of hair, big sunglasses and painted nails on fingers and toes that stood out from yards away. It was Europe after all. Looking around I realised I was actually one of perhaps 10% in a top. I opened my historical novel, dug my unpainted toes into the sand and settled in.

I was woken by cold water dripping on to my back. From my position face down on the towel, I turned to see Andie kneeling over me. “Sorry, mum. Didn’t mean to wake you,” she said.

I’d been having a nice dream I think, one of those dreams where you know you’ve got one foot in both worlds, awake and asleep, light-headed and heavy of body, able to hear, but not to talk. I’d been floating in a pond, among the reeds and rushes, just letting the water carry me. I imagined or could actually feel every part of my body in contact with the water.

Waking up and seeing Andie I fell in love with her again. Sunshine and she were partners in making her a golden girl, her smile and her slicked-back hair, wet from the sea, framed her beautiful face. Beads of water ran down her neck, down her collar bone and onto her breasts where they hung heavy on her nipples before dripping on to me. I didn’t mind. Andie had always been my favourite, I was much closer to her than Evie and it was she who I hugged and kissed the most. In fact, she kissed me now. On my head.

“Thanks for coming,” she said. She smelt of the sea, fresh and blue if you know what I mean.

Twisting all the way round now, I opened my arms wide and brought her to me for a hug. Her body, cooled by the sea, pressed into mine. My heat and her coolness – it felt very nice.

The others had all gotten back now too and were vigorously drying their hair and faces and reaching into the bags for water.

“Oooh, the water’s so cold!” said Evie as he swigged from a bottle, “it’s so lovely to get warmed up again’.

“There’s bound to be people coming round with cold drinks,” said Derek, “we’ll top up then.” Derek was already face down on his towel. The way the water had matted his hair, I could see he had a little bit of a hairy back. Something I didn’t know about him. Not unattractive. “Darling, would you?” he said. Evie started on the sunblock.

Steve was lying face up, rather flaunting his `pouch’ I thought, as it fronted up in his trunks. He had crossed his hands behind his head and angled his hat across his face. Without needing to ask, Andie smothered him with sunblock, did her front, quickly, efficiently, maybe lingering just a little too long on Steve’s lower belly and thighs. Her own body was toned and tanned evenly, she’d been on a sunbed in preparation for the holiday. I was of course much paler, and I could see around the top of my bottoms and around my swimsuit cups, that I already had a contrast between my `white meat’ and `dark’.

Andie offered up the suncream. “Come, Mum.” Her hands ran across my shoulders and back, the back of my arms and thighs, my calves and even my feet. I’d gotten so sensitive. Her silky hands, strong at times, felt great.

Having done my back she helped with the front too. Her hands came up to the straps of my swimsuit. “Mum, are you sure?”, she said quietly. “You’ll look so much better.”

I did actually think about it. “I’m not sure I’d be comfortable”, I said.

“Everyone’s doing it and no one’s looking.”

She was right. No one was paying me the slightest bit of attention. I stood straight, reached behind me for the fastening to my top and undid it. Released from their support beylikdüzü bayan arkadaş my breasts hung free. The sun beat down on them for all to see, including Derek and Steve. They weren’t looking. Evie was face down on her towel too, her left leg draped over Derek’s lower back and bum, her arm across his shoulders.

Andie squirted some sunblock into my hand and with one of hers slathered my left breast. All around her hands went, several times. She finished with an extra stroke of the nipple with her thumb. I felt all tingly. There was electricity from my nipple to my heart to the small hairs on the nape of my neck to my toes which I was alternately scrunching into the towel and curling. I looked at Andie and she was just focused on my breast as she completed her job. She was also breathing a little fast, it seemed. All done, she looked at me through her sunglasses. I could tell she was thinking something but through the mirror lenses I couldn’t read her eyes.

She smiled a little shyly. She was still my girl, the one whose toes I painted and who painted mine, the one whose hair I combed and who combed mine. The one who I took into my bed in the mornings and nights when it was most cold and we both needed the warmth of another. She was mine and I loved her with all the heart I had left after giving the other part to Evie.

I did the other breast, all the while looking around. The beach had become busier in the hour or so since we’d arrived. There must have been hundreds there. I did a quick scan. All but teenage girls and the most elderly in bikini bottoms only. I was not them. I gave Andie a kiss on the tip of her nose, pushed her down on to her towel for her siesta, grabbed my hat and just stepped off into the sand for a walk. Instant decision to see and be seen.

Children were laughing and screaming and boys and girls were running around, men and women lying down or walking hand in hand. Some were alone. I was. But I didn’t mind. I liked me. I liked my body. I was proud of it.

And it was such a thrill to parade through the sand, me with just a few square centimeters of cloth on my body, walking through all these strangers. I found myself without consciously doing it, throwing my shoulders back, lifting my chin and pushing out my breasts. It was liberating. I was liberated.

I’d been naked or near naked before in public, at the baths but there it was kind of clinical and all quite asexual and in the showers it was all showercaps and shower gel and soap and plastic sandals to stop athlete’s foot. Here it was sun, sand, heat and humidity, barefoot bodies touching and seeking exposure. There are also no men in the ladies’ changing rooms. There were plenty of men here.

I was sweating under the heat and, truth be told, I was feeling a little aroused. I cupped my breasts, to check my nipples had suncream and to feel how hard they’d become. It may have been sweat, but I was wet between my legs too. It felt good.

I walked for 500 metres to one side and 500 metres to another. I drank from the public fountain, waiting for a short in a queue with children and adults. No one really looked at me, and if they had, I wouldn’t have minded. I’d have welcomed it. Nothing worse than being scanned and discarded like a leaf in the wind. No one looked away too quickly when they were looking at me. I looked at them too.

Men were generally in baggy shorts, the women were generally in brief bikini bottoms. I wondered how many of them would be having sex that night. I wondered how many of them wished they could be having sex now. Just a few small strips and triangles of cloth between us and the sun, between us and each other. Why weren’t we all actually naked? It would make no difference really, would it? Nobody was leaving much to the imagination. Maybe the boys in their big shorts could hide their erections better but there were always towels for that and face-downs in the sand. I don’t know why we weren’t all naked right here and now.

I wandered lonely as a cloud. “Hey, gorgeous!” It was Eva. She was sashaying like a queen through the crowd, graceful, great posture and breasts that were making a statement: “I’m proud of my body and I’m glad you’re enjoying it.”

“Hello, love!” I gave her a hug. For the first time I felt her bare grown-up breasts press into mine. Firm yet yielding. I could feel her nipples as we embraced, I could feel mine.

“Let’s get some ice-cream.” Eva had brought money; we walked to the ice-cream seller. Two nine-tenths naked women, he looked at us and didn’t look at us but I knew he looked at us even amongst all the others (admittedly rather young customers) in front of him.

We bought some for everybody but Evie and I started ours on the way back.

“Having a good time, Mum?”

“Hmm, great. It’s a beautiful day” It was. Just a few puffs of cloud in the distance, hot with just enough breeze to temper the heat – and add a frisson to bare-breastedness. Evie’s almost boyish bum swung nonchalantly in front of me, the fringe of the bikini bottom tucked into the crevice. Her left buttock was almost completely exposed. A little bit of a tanline there, but not much. It was `best in show’ without a doubt. I decided I liked very much the semi-Aztec butterfly tattoo astride her lower back.

“You don’t mind your old mum being here with you, do you?”

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