I lay in my bed listening to the traffic on the road outside; everything simply sounded normal. There was no roaring of a volcano, no splashing of waves against the side of a fleeing boat, no alarm calls from fleeing birds, and no screams of scared people. None of that, simply traffic as people began their days.

There was a tap at my door. I put my robe on and answered.

“Only me, baby; your dad is still asleep. You and he must have chatted until late.”

"Yes, Mum, we did, and I think I went off as soon as he left and went to your room.”

Yes, after we had shagged three times and my fanny was filled with Dad juice until I had to shower it out after Dad left, then and only then did I go to sleep. I could only hope that there wasn’t any evidence on the bed for Mum to see; it would be difficult to explain.

“I am going to go into town and buy you a dress, a bra, and some knickers. I will then come back, and we can go together to get some more stuff. Is that okay?”

"Yes, Mum.”

“I expect I shall be about an hour.”

"Okay, Mum.”

Mum left, and I checked that the door was shut behind her and lay back on the bed. I guessed I had been in bed around ten minutes when my door knocked again.

“It’s me, sweetheart,” Dad said.

I got up and opened the door; my robe was undone, but it wouldn’t matter. Dad had already experienced all that I had to offer. Dad came in and shut the door behind him and then took me in his arms and pressed his lips against mine. He guided me backwards, and soon I was lying on the bed with Dad’s hand on my left boob.

“I have to steal every moment I can with you,” he said.

“I know, but Mum will be back soon, and I can’t go out shopping with her with my fanny filled with your juices, Dad.”

“I know.” He kissed me again, and his hand crept down my stomach and slid into my crease, easing up and down from my fanny entrance to my nubbin at the top. I pressed at his trousers; his dick was hard as rock inside. I wanted to take it out, but I knew that we would end up fucking again if I did.

“What are we going to do, Celia?” Dad asked, “I didn’t realise how much you meant to me until the volcano went and we thought we had lost you, and then last night, well, what we did was more than any father should dream of.”

“We will find time, Dad; perhaps you could encourage Mum to see to your needs when you and I can’t be together.”

“Perhaps, but I doubt it.”

“Try Dad; that is important. You guys need intimacy. I don’t want you guys to split up; I need you both.”

"Okay, baby, and when we find somewhere to live, it’ll be nowhere near a fucking volcano.”

Hearing Dad swear was odd; he just hardly ever does. “Perhaps we should go back to Yorkshire,” I said. "Perhaps you can find work there.”

“Yes, I have been thinking that. I still have fond memories of Yorkshire, not so much Oregon; it was just a job, not really a way of life.”

“I wouldn’t mind, Dad, whatever you and Mum feel is best, although, if I have a vote, I vote for England; in my head it is safer.”

I did my robe up to ensure none of me was peeping out, and I did it just in time as my door knocked and Mum was calling.

Dad opened the door and Mum came in.

"Right, Celia, I have got you a dress and some clean knickers. Richard go next door whilst Celia gets dressed.”

That was Dad told, Mum can be quite authoritarian. Dad just likes a quiet life at home; I think he saves all his authority for work.

“Right, I have pulled all the labels off; here are your knickers.”

Mum said, thrusting some skimpy fabric knickers in my hand. I took my robe off and sat on the edge of the bed, pulling my knickers up. If my fanny was red and puffy still from yesterday’s exertions with Dad, then Mum didn’t say anything. She handed me a dress which, as I pulled it over my head, I got a glimpse of blue, so a blue dress.

“Right, come on, let’s go and get you some clothes and a small suitcase to put them in.”

"Yes, Mum, is Dad coming with us?” 

“No, he is going to stay here and try and sort out an RV for us to use so that we can get up north and see what, if anything, is left of our home. It’ll just be us girls shopping.”

I put my arm through Mum's, and we headed off. The car that they had was just a standard car, a sedan, and I sat in the front passenger seat, doing up my seatbelt as Mum got in the driver’s seat, and we were off. 

We went to a small mall, and we managed to find me a couple of dresses, a skirt and a blouse, a few bras and knickers and a pair of sneakers; we call them 'trainers' in England. We also got a soft case bag to put the clothes in.

“Right, let’s get a coffee,” Mum said.

“Yes, and some pastries too, please,” I said.

Mum guided us to a coffee place, and I sat at one of the outside tables whilst Mum went and ordered. The traffic going past wasn’t too noisy, and I did hear a plane up above, so I guessed at least there were few flying restrictions in place. I presumed, or rather guessed, that the volcano had finished erupting.

Mum came back and I heard her sit opposite me. “The order will be here in a moment,” Mum said.

“Good, I’m starving, Mum.”

“Yes, I am too; we haven’t really eaten properly over the past few days.”

“Mum, what are we going to do?”

“I know, it is a real mess. The images on TV of the town don’t look good; what wasn’t covered by lava is covered by deep ash, most roofs have collapsed, and then it rained, and the ash is just a hard-setting mud now.”

“I think the town is done; we won’t be able to rent anywhere, and the locals will need places more than us.” 

“Well, we have been there a few years, so we kind of count as locals, Celia.”

I wasn’t so sure; I bet everywhere would be unavailable for us. I think Dad’s idea of the RV was good.

“Perhaps Dad can get a job in England, Mum.”

“Would you like that?”

“America is scary, Mum; they have volcanoes and tornadoes and hurricanes and earthquakes, and it is difficult for me to deal with them when I can’t see where safety is.”

“I understand.” I hoped that she did; when the earthquake struck, I was just going to go home. I couldn’t see the danger, and if Pete hadn’t come along, I would probably be dead, and in all honesty, I didn’t want to be dead.

“Mum, can I ask you something really personal?”

“I suppose you can ask; I may not be able to answer.”

“Are you and Dad okay? I mean, I never, ever hear you being intimate, and I don’t want some other woman to come and be intimate with Dad and you guys split up; I want you together.”

“Celia! What a question! Where has that come from?”

“I was just lying in the hotel that first night, and I could hear people in other rooms, you know, having sex, and it occurred to me, I never hear you and Dad. I mean, not that I want to hear you, but I just never do, and it got me worried.”

“No, we don’t, okay?”

“Why not, Mum? I mean, it is normal; that is what couples do. Why don’t you?”

“After you, no, look, we haven’t since you were a baby, and when it was obvious that you couldn’t see, then your needs became our focus.”

“Mum, no, that is wrong; you can’t make me the reason; that’s not fair.”

I was interrupted by the arrival of our order. Mum said thank you to the server and then changed the subject.

"Here, Celia, a plate of pastries for you,” she said, and I heard the plate in front of me. "Your coffee will still be too hot; let me know when you want it, and I will pass it over.”

“Thank you, Mum, and I am not dropping this; you can’t make it my fault.”

"Oh, baby, no, it isn’t your fault; it is just that we couldn’t risk having another baby in case the same thing happened again.”

“Oh, Mum, for God’s sake, there is contraception. God, they had it in ancient times; they for sure have it now and had it then.”

"Yes, Celia,” Mum was speaking quietly, “and your dad and I both had that surgery done. Neither of us can create a baby, but by then we had stopped being intimate, and we never started; it wasn’t important.”

I needed to be delicate in what I said next. 

“Mum, it may not be to you, but, well, I can tell when I brush up against Dad that it is still important for Dad.”

“Oh. He hasn’t, you know, tried anything?”

Oh, he didn’t try; he succeeded, but let’s not say that. “God no, Mum, no, but, well, let’s just say it can be obvious at times. I think that you and Dad should, you know, be intimate.”

“Eat your pastries, Celia,” Mum said, “and let’s have no more talk of this. I am sure I don’t know where you got the notions from.”

Well, I did, Pete shagging me stupid and introducing me to sex, and then Dad fucking my brains out whilst you slept, Mum. That's where I got the notions.

That evening, after I had showered and put some of my new clothes on, we went out to eat at a restaurant nearby; it was within walking distance, and the weather was still warm and dry. I had a carbonara, Mum and Dad both had steaks, and we had some wine with the meal; I think we got through two bottles between the three of us.

Dad said he managed to get an RV for us, and he would pick it up in the morning, so this would be our last night in the hotel. I just hoped Mum took heed of what I said to her in the coffee shop. We all walked back arm in arm, and as we got to our rooms, I kissed them goodnight and went into my room.

I pulled my dress off and then my bra and knickers. I used the loo and cleaned my teeth and went and lay in bed. I could hear Mum and Dad talking through the thin wall but couldn’t really make out what they were saying, and then they went quiet. Oh well, I guess it had been too much to hope for, and I lay back and closed my eyes.

The sounds started, the unmistakable sounds; Mum and Dad were shagging. Good, excellent, and my finger found its way into my crease, and as I heard the slaps and grunts from next door, my finger pushed inside me, and I was finger-shagging myself in time with Dad shagging Mum.

Slap, push in, ease out, slap, push in again. In my mind I was reliving Dad shagging me, and without realising what I was doing, I had three fingers going in and out of my fanny, and my palm was slapping against my mons. I was making my own slap noises next door to Mum and Dad, and I was gasping too, in time with Mum.

My pleasures were flowing and my pressures were building; my gasps were getting louder and more intense, and as my orgasm exploded and erupted through my body, it was all I could do not to shriek. Gosh, no, I didn’t want Mum to hear me; goodness, no.

As Mum and I ate breakfast in the diner next door to the hotel, Dad had gone off to get the RV and to return the hire car. The logistics of how he would do that were beyond me and more than I needed to care about.

“I did what you suggested,” Mum said as she finished a bowl of grits, not my favourite, but it would do.

“What’s that, Mum?" I asked, knowing full well already.

“We were intimate.”

“Oh, good for you, and is all well with the world?” It had certainly sounded like it last night, well, to my ears, anyway.

“I am not as young as I was, Celia.”

“Well, no, I guess not, but everything is still in the same places, I presume.” I mean, what else could I say?

“Yes, but I am not as flexible as I was.”

“Mum, you don’t need to do gymnastics, you know.”

“Celia! Look, your father is rather well endowed, okay?”

“He has a big dick, do you mean?”

"Celia, for goodness sake!”

“Sorry, Mum." I wasn't, of course, but I couldn’t let on that I knew exactly how big his dick is.

“Well, yes, his is large, and I am not as flexible, you know, down there, and it was more painful than I remember.”

“Oh. I don’t know how these things work; presumably the more you do it, the easier it will get.”

“I am not as young as I was, Celia. I am not sure that it will get easier; the elasticity seems to have gone.”

“Oh no, poor you, poor Dad, just as you got back into it.”

“I think your father needs someone younger, someone who has a flexible, er, area.”

“You mean fanny, Mum." Why can’t she just say it?

“Yes. But I am not sure I can cope; I am afraid I am not young enough, and your dad needs someone young or someone with a lot of flexibility.”

"Well, Mum, all he has is you, so I am not sure how that helps; we don’t want him going off with anyone else, now do we? The whole point was to try and ensure that didn’t happen.”

I could hear Mum sipping at her coffee, and then the cup was put down. And she slid my coffee towards me. “Your coffee is cool enough to drink now, sweetheart.”

"Thanks, Mum.”

I heard Mum swallow as if nervous.

“Celia.”

"Yes, Mum?”

“You are young.”

“Well, yes, I guess.”

“And I imagine that you are flexible.”

“Flexible? What do you mean, Mum? I don’t know; I suppose I am a bit bendy.”

“That wasn’t what I meant, Celia.”

“I am not with you, Mum; one minute we were talking about you and your fanny and then… Oh.”

“Yes, yours. Yours will be flexible.”

“Mum, I am confused. What are you saying? Are you suggesting that I do what you can’t?” That is exactly how it sounded to me, that Mum was suggesting I shag Dad because her fanny was not elastic enough anymore.

“You are not some flighty thing trying to steal your father away, and that is who we are trying to keep away from your dad, and as he showed last night, he still has his needs.”

“Can’t you, I don’t know, use your hand or your mouth and work on increasing your flexibility?"

“Yes, but I am not sure if I can ever be flexible enough for your father. Last night felt like I was giving birth again; it was very painful, and I don’t think the other things that you suggest would be enough for your father, not now that I have, er, been with him properly again.”

“Oh.”

“It occurs to me that you are young and are probably flexible.”

“Well, yes, I am young and possibly more flexible than you. I mean, I don’t exactly know; I don’t have a lot of experience in that regard.”

“You are not sounding totally opposed to the idea. I did think that you might be horrified; I am surprised."

It seems I hadn’t played my cards well, but then who expects their mum to suggest that you shag their dad? “I am still trying to take in what I think you are suggesting; I don’t want to get the wrong end of the stick and embarrass us both, Mum. What it sounds like you are suggesting is, well, it’s weird to say the least.”

“I am suggesting that you have relations, sex, with your father because I can’t and I don’t want to lose him.”

“God, how will this work? Like The Handmaid's Tale, where you hold me whilst he does the business? I don’t think I could deal with that.”

"No, Celia. I will be out, and you and your father can do it whilst I am away, or perhaps at night when I have taken a sleeping tablet. I don’t want to know that you are doing it; I just want to know that you are, if you see what I mean.”

“And what will Dad say? He will be horrified, surely."

“Let me deal with your father. Do we have an agreement?”

“Er, yes, I suppose. God, I am terrified, Mum.”

“You’ll be fine; you are young.” She held up four fingers and wrapped my hand around them. "This is the size.”

"Shit, Mum, that’s a shitload bigger than a tampon.”

“And a heck of a lot smaller than a baby, which of course, with your father, you won’t have to worry about.”

Perhaps not, but I am still going to the doctors and going on the pill. I have heard that these sterilisation things are not entirely reliable, and getting pregnant by my father is the last thing I want to consider.

“All the same, Mum, you are asking a lot.”

I finished my coffee, and then Mum announced that Dad had turned up in a big RV, so we gathered our things and went outside to meet him.

Mum and Dad were talking quietly, and I was walking around the RV, touching it with my hands and my stick. It was absolutely huge; it was like a house on wheels. Dad came back and took my arm. “Come on, love, let’s get you inside.”

Inside,...