The Suite We Had to Share That Dawn
The hotel was a wonder, though the journey there had been hell. My parents had been set on taking me back to my student flat in Asturias —we’re from Almería, so imagine the distance— and between the traffic, a detour for roadworks, and a late dinner, things got complicated. Around midnight we looked on the phone for a decent place halfway along the route to stop and rest.
We ended up at a five-star hotel lost between Cuenca and the mountains, one of those places that, in low season and with its odd location, was surprisingly cheap.
I’m Adrián, I’m twenty-three, and I study industrial design. I could have chosen a university closer to home, but I wanted to put some distance between us and learn to fend for myself. On the trip came my mother, Elena, forty-eight, and my father, Rubén, fifty-one. My mother is one of those women who are infuriating: she works as an architect, goes to the gym three times a week, is close to one meter seventy-five tall, and has everything in the right place. Firm tits, a round ass, long legs, and a mouth with full lips that was always the envy of all my friends and the secret fantasy of more than one of my buddies. My father is no slouch either: tall, gray-haired, lean from running the trails in the hills. I’ve heard more comments than I’d like from one girlfriend or another. And I, I suppose, am a dead ringer for both of them: tall, slim, still without the bulk age gives you, but with a long cock I’ve never had to be ashamed of.
My sister Carla preferred to stay home and make the most of the weekend with her partner.
My parents had treated the trip almost like a second honeymoon. They would leave me in Asturias and make the return trip at their own pace, hotel to hotel, seeing as much of the north as they could before work called them back.
We booked from the phone, on the road: a single room for me and a double for them. No problem.
But Murphy’s law kicked in and, magically, the rooms were no longer available at reception. It was almost three in the morning and the next hotel was fifty kilometers away, so we pressed the receptionist to give us a solution.
The main suite was always reserved for a company executive who almost never showed up. After a couple of phone calls, they offered it to us, apologizing, but urging us to enjoy the best room in the hotel: huge, with a terrace, a whirlpool tub, and practically untouched.
I could already see the disaster coming. My parents in romantic mode and me dying to lose them and get back to my flat. Discomfort was going to be the tone of the night.
The suite was incredible. My parents walked in arm in arm around the waist, marveling at the enormous bed, the bathroom with the whirlpool tub, and the terrace. I, on the other hand, only saw one problem: in the living room there was a beautiful table, but no sign of a sofa or a sofa bed. Just that giant bed, big enough not to touch, but not so big that you could sleep peacefully beside an affectionate couple who, moreover, were my parents. And as if that weren’t enough, half the bathroom was separated from the room by a glass wall: except for a frosted strip next to the toilet, everything else could be seen from any corner of the suite.
“What a room, what luck we’ve had,” my mother said, smiling.
“Yes, look at the view from the terrace, and the size of that bed,” my father added.
“Yeah, for one person or for a little couple this would be a dream. Shame,” I said with irony, and they both laughed, beginning to realize the logistical mess we were in.
“Well, we’re grown-ups, we’ll manage for a few hours. Now to freshen up after the trip and sleep,” my mother said, always so direct, as she opened the suitcases and went into the bathroom.
She went in to shower and left very little to the imagination. My father and I put an old game on the television and tried to comment on the plays naturally, but it was impossible not to follow every movement of my mother out of the corner of my eye through the glass. First her silhouette beside the toilet, then under the water, soaping up her body. I saw her lather her tits with both hands, pinching her nipples between her fingers, and then her hand went down to her pussy and lingered there longer than a normal wash takes. The tip of my cock pushed hard against my pajama pants, stiff as a rock, and I hid it by crossing my legs just as my father had crossed his a second earlier. I got the feeling she was taking her time on purpose. Then, thirty minutes of creams, and she came out fresh as a daisy.
“All yours, I was super quick,” she said, to general teasing.
With my father in the shower, the discomfort was even greater. I tried to look at the screen, but it was impossible not to be distracted by his silhouette. I saw his cock hanging there, thick and heavy, and an internal comparison slipped out of me that I wish I’d never made. He was quick. The worst came when my mother started commenting on the scene.
“Look at how he is for his age. The envy of all my friends,” she said, and I noticed she too had crossed her legs, squeezing her thighs tightly under the robe.
My father came out wrapped in a towel and lay down on the right side of the bed, leaving my mother in the middle. Then it was my turn in the bathroom, with more embarrassment than anything else. I repeated the ritual in a hurry, though, whether psychological or not, I felt their eyes on me just as I hadn’t been able to tear my own off them. Using the soap as an excuse, I glanced toward the bed and froze: my mother’s hand was moving under my father’s towel with an unmistakable back-and-forth, up and down on his cock, and his hand was sunk between her legs with his fingers clearly inside her pussy, moving without any attempt to hide it. I couldn’t control my erection, and I knew they saw me. My cock was pointing at the ceiling, so swollen the vein underneath was throbbing visibly under the water.
I came out as best I could, the towel slung around my hips and my face red as a tomato, and lay down on the left side.
“Come on, it’s not that big a deal. Let’s sleep, it’s very late and we’ve still got a lot of road ahead tomorrow,” my mother said, giving me a chaste kiss on the cheek before turning off the light.
***
It was hard to fall asleep in that situation, but I tried. The three of us’ breathing fell into a rhythm and, little by little, we began to drift off.
Unfortunately, just as I was falling asleep, something brought me back to wakefulness. My eyes had grown used to the dark and I could already make out the shapes in the room. Among them, my parents’.
With my pupils adjusted, I saw that my father’s towel was open and that a firm hand —my mother’s— was going up and down on his cock in a slow, deliberate rhythm, squeezing the base and twisting her wrist at the tip. I could hear him breathing through his nose, holding back.
That image would not let me sleep again.
In the most absolute silence, or as quietly as they could, they started kissing. My father pushed my mother’s robe aside and went looking for her pussy with his hand. Now I could clearly hear the wet slap of his fingers going in and out of her, the sticky sound of a woman very wet, and the increasingly undisguised moans. My mother bit his neck so she wouldn’t scream.
I tried to hold back, but it was too late. My cock had gone so hard that the towel couldn’t hide it; the tip was showing, wet with precum. The three of us were pretending to sleep, but just as I could see their bodies, they couldn’t ignore mine.
If I stay still, this won’t go any further than this, I thought. I did not stay still.
Very slowly, my mother turned her body and brought her face level with my father’s cock. She took it all in one gulp, and the wet sound of her mouth swallowing my father’s cock couldn’t be hidden by anything. She sucked him slowly, drawing him out to the tip to lick his glans with her tongue flat, then swallowing him again to the throat. He, in turn, turned and buried his mouth between her legs, eating her pussy hungrily. I could hear him licking her from top to bottom, sucking her clit until she jolted, and my mother’s muffled gasps filled the suite while she kept sucking his cock.
I couldn’t take it anymore. I pushed the towel aside, grabbed my cock with my hand, and started jerking off, squeezing hard and pulling the foreskin back with each stroke. During a pause to breathe, my mother turned her head toward me, her lips shining with saliva and a string of spit hanging from the corner of her mouth. I stretched my legs, unable to bear the tension, and she returned the gesture by grabbing my ankle without stopping jerking my father’s cock with her other hand. He was looking too, his mouth still buried in her pussy, and my mother’s free hand climbed slowly up my leg, fingernail by fingernail.
When that hand reached my cock and wrapped around it, I couldn’t help a groan and lifted my hips. She had it warm, soft, and she began to work it with the same ease she used on my father. Without thinking, I pushed my hips toward her to get even closer, and I felt myself getting closer to my father’s face too. A second later, my mother guided my cock toward her mouth and swallowed me in one go, all the way to the back. I let out a muffled growl. She was sucking me with her mouth and my father with her hand, alternating, and every so often she would take one or the other out and bring them together, rubbing the tip of my cock against the tip of my father’s on her tongue. Our glans brushed against each other in her mouth and neither of us pulled away.
What came next was pure instinct. My mother shifted until she was on her side, with her back to my father, and my face at one side. My father lifted her top leg and pushed his cock into her pussy from behind, spooning her, thrusting slowly. I could see him going in and out, my father’s cock shining with my mother’s juices. She let out a long moan when she felt him all the way inside, and started pushing her ass back to take him to the hilt.
I began kissing the nape of her neck, her shoulders, her back, and I brought my hand down to her chest to pinch her nipples, hard as stones. My mother’s hips rolled without rest, fucking my father from behind while she looked for me with her mouth. At some point, by accident, my mouth and my father’s met on the skin of her shoulder. Neither of us pulled away. We looked at each other for an instant, breathing hard, and kept kissing my mother’s skin with our mouths almost touching.
She writhed and, no longer ashamed, let the air out in long gasps, driven out by each thrust. “More, harder, don’t stop,” she murmured through clenched teeth. After a few minutes like that, with my father fucking her from behind and my hand working her clit in tight circles from the front, her whole body vibrated in an orgasm that left her trembling, legs rigid and pussy clamping down on my father’s cock in spasms that drew a groan from him.
When she caught her breath, she grabbed both cocks firmly, one in each hand, and said in a low voice, almost an order:
“I want you both. Now. Fuck me.”
My father and I looked at each other for a second. Wordlessly, with a gesture, he told me to go first.
Crazy with excitement, I positioned myself between her legs, her on her back, knees bent and pussy open and dripping. I placed the tip of my cock at her entrance and went in slowly, trying to be careful with the body that had brought me into the world. But my mother had other plans and, with a firm movement of her hips, swallowed my cock all at once. We both let out a sigh of pure satisfaction at feeling her hot, tiny pussy squeeze me from base to tip, and we melted into a kiss as forbidden as it was inevitable, with her tongue entering my mouth without restraint.
I began to move, first slowly, pulling almost all the way out and then thrusting back into her to the hilt. She closed her eyes and smiled with each thrust. “Like that, son, like that, don’t stop,” she whispered in my ear, and that word —son— spoken with my cock inside her took me to a point of no return.
My father wasted no time. He knelt beside my mother’s head, holding her hair, and brought his cock to her mouth. She opened without hesitation and swallowed him to the throat, making a wet gurgling sound every time he pushed her head down. Meanwhile, I increased the rhythm, slamming my hips against her thighs with a dry smack. She panted, impaled by both of us, and looked for my father with her mouth open every time he pulled his cock out to breathe. I don’t know how to describe what it was like to be wrapped around my mother, balls-deep in her pussy, hearing her suck my father’s cock a hand’s breadth from my ear, with the wet noises and his muffled grunts.
I couldn’t keep still in that position. I started kissing her neck, her cheeks, until I reached the edge of her lips stretched around my father’s cock. And there, without breaking rhythm, I also brushed the skin of his glans with my mouth on each motion. He was snorting, holding our heads both with his hands, setting a pace that dragged us all along. With mischief, my mother steered my father’s cock toward my mouth. I understood at once and accepted it awkwardly, first just the tip, then letting him push it a little farther in. The taste was strong, salty, mixed with my mother’s saliva. I could hardly believe what I was doing, and even less so with my own father, while I kept fucking my mother at the same time. She watched us from below with shining eyes, teasing her clit between the two bodies.
Then he held my head, pulled his cock out of my mouth with a wet pop, and with a look he spat an order at me: now it was his turn. He lay on his back and, with an elegant gesture, made my mother sit astride him. With the wetness she carried, he had her inside in an instant. She gripped his knees and started bouncing at a frantic pace, her tits bobbing against his face, while my father gripped her hips and speared her from below with hard, dry thrusts of his hips. The sound of their bodies slapping together filled the suite.
I didn’t want to be left behind. I knelt beside my father’s face, not quite daring, but he didn’t hesitate. He turned his head, opened his mouth, and swallowed my cock whole, sucking me with a technique that almost made me cum instantly. I almost lost control as soon as his mouth wrapped around me, hot and tight, his tongue working my frenulum. In that position, my mother and I melted into a deep kiss over my father’s body, biting each other’s lips, while he kept sucking me and she kept riding him. The three of us were gasping without restraint. There was no guilt, almost no thought. Only instinct and sweat.
I sat up to watch them while I touched myself, wanting to finish and, at the same time, not wanting it to end. I moved behind my mother, on my knees, and rested my cock against her ass. The two of them paused the motion for a second and she settled on all fours over my father, arching her back. I entered her pussy carefully, slowly, until my balls bumped against the base of my father’s cock. The sensation of the two of us being inside her, his cock brushing mine through the thin wall, was brutal. My mother let out a muffled cry, bracing herself on my father’s forearms. “My God, both of you, inside, don’t pull out,” she begged, her voice broken.
From there on we were completely blinded. We began moving in alternation: when I came out, he went in; when he came out, I went in. She squeezed both of us with a pussy that was dripping between our bodies, pushing her ass back each time she felt empty. I don’t know how long we stayed like that, the three of us synchronized, with the sloshing, the moans, and the sweat running down our backs, until one last colossal orgasm shook my mother and dragged us all out of the trance. She came screaming at both of us not to stop, her whole body trembling, and her spasms squeezed our cocks like never before, milking us from within.
We stopped for an instant, exhausted and sweaty, without fully separating. I came out of her slowly, my cock shining and ready to burst. My mother settled between us and took one cock in each hand, tending to us both at the same time, alternating fast handjobs and mouths, first one glans, then the other, sucking us in turn with saliva dripping down her chin. I couldn’t take any more.
“I’m going to cum, I can’t hold it anymore,” I warned, my hips already thrusting on their own against her hand.
“I can’t take much more either,” my father said. “Do it. Cum in her mouth.”
I came like never before. The first spurt hit my mother’s tongue and she caught it without closing her mouth, showing it to me before swallowing it. Then she kept going with her hand, pumping me hard and letting the rest fall in streams over my father’s chest, splashing his hair and nipples. My legs were shaking. She didn’t stop until I had to pull away from pure sensitivity. He was still holding out, his cock stiff as a pole and his chest smeared with my semen, and my mother grabbed my hand so I would lie down beside her and we could tend to him both at once.
We kissed with my flavor still in our mouths while we took turns with my father’s cock, which was snorting and repeating that he couldn’t anymore. One sucked while the other sucked his balls, switching every few seconds. I lost all sense of time, focused on my mother’s mouth and my father’s hot skin, until he finished with a long spasm and an animal groan, grabbing both our necks. My mother took the first spurt in her mouth, pulled away to let the second paint her lips and chin, and then came over to kiss me, using that kiss to share with me what was left, pushing it into me with her tongue. I went crazy. I licked her chin until it was clean.
We kept kissing, and my father, now sitting up, joined in, trading kisses between the three mouths, with the flavors mixed. Little by little we calmed down. He had his arm around my mother’s shoulders and they were both smiling, their chests still shining with sweat and semen.
I was looking at them, happy, until I noticed my cock waking up again between my legs, swelling once more. I propped myself on one elbow and, half joking, half serious, asked:
“Well… whose turn is it now?”