Squeaky Bed & Breakfast

My mother runs a small Bed and Breakfast out in the Lakes district. She has a large house with half a dozen bedrooms and there's only her in the old house now. Her justification for turning the old house into a Bed & Breakfast was that she needed to to make ends meet. What a laugh. I was one of the executors of my father's estate and I know what she's got squirreled away in trust funds.

Knowing she is only doing the whole B&B thing because she likes regular company in the house I was able to put my foot down when she first suggested full scale boarding with all meals provided. With my mother pushing sixty there was no way was I going to have her working all day to meet the requirements of assorted guests. Bed and Breakfast were fine and if they were staying several nights, the local township had a couple of good restaurants and the normal fast food outlets. Her guests wouldn't starve.

It was also agreed that if she ran into any problems with guests that she'd contact me or one of my siblings to help her get it sorted out. This meant I wasn't too surprised when she called me one day with a little problem. It turned out that while she was sure it was only a little problem, she didn't know what the problem was. Could I help?

Could I help to solve an unknown problem? Certainly. I'd just put on my Mr Magic costume and wave my magic wand. Problem solved. I didn't tell my mother that. I just said I'd come on over and she could tell me all about it.

I rolled up and we settled down over coffee while my mother explained.

Among her guests she had a young couple. Charming people they were. It was obvious that they weren't too long married and they were spending a week at my mother's place as a sort of second honeymoon. They'd chosen the lakes district because he liked to fish and she liked to tour around the tourist traps and visiting antique stores, hoping to find that elusive bargain.

The first evening everything had been fine. The pair had been billing and cooing and enjoying life. The next morning there was a slight change in their attitude. They had both seemed a little disgruntled. Nothing that my mother could really pinpoint, but there was an aura of dis satisfaction, and mother had this hunch that her precious B&B was being found wanting. But on the strength of one day she ignored it. The pair went out fishing and treasure hunting and seemed fine that evening.

The next day (this morning) the irritation that the pair showed was a lot more pronounced. He had been positively sulking when he left to go fishing and she hadn't bothered to go out, returning to her room. My mother had tried to get the young woman to express a complaint but she denied anything was wrong. Now, apparently, it was my turn to chat with her.

"I know you'll get to the bottom of it, darling," my mother said smiling sweetly. "You can be so charming when you want to be."

A lot of people might dispute that but I learnt long ago of the futility of arguing with my mother. I just smiled and said I'd speak with the young woman. If that didn't work I'd return this evening and have a chat with her husband.

I ambled along to Maureen's room and knocked. She answered and I saw immediately what my mother meant about her looking disgruntled.

She was a nice little blonde. Big blue eyes and stacked, breasts just standing out and begging to be touched. Looking closer (at her face, not her bust) it seemed she looked more frustrated than disgruntled. Probably one led to the other.

"I'm David, Jessica's son. My mother is worried. She feels that you and your husband aren't happy here and that she and her little B&B are to blame. She wants to know what the problem is so she can fix it. If she doesn't know what the problem is she might find other couple having the same trouble. Her place could quite easily get a bad reputation. I'm sure you can understand her concern."

Maureen bit her lip for a second before hastening to reassure me.

"Oh, no, that's silly. The place is charming and your mother had gone out of her way to make us feel welcome. It's nothing really. Tell her not to worry about it."

"I can also tell the sun not to rise," I said, with maybe a touch of acid in my voice. "Where her B&B is concerned, my mother will worry. So why don't you tell me what the nothing consists of."

There was a moment more of lip chewing and then Maureen went on.

"No really. It's nothing. . ."

I interrupted at that point.

"Ah, Maureen, you may find it advisable to tell me now. If you don't my mother will be grilling you and your husband for hours, trying to wear you down. She'll win in the end, believe me."

Maureen did some more lip chewing. I have to say it made her lip look nice and red and kissable but she was going to wear it out the way she was going. Then she sighed and gestured behind her.

"It's the bed," she muttered.

I strolled past her and considered the bed. It was my old bed from when I used to live here. It was a very comfortable bed. I could attest to that. I sat on it and bounced lightly. It felt the same as it always had.

"Ah, what's wrong with the bed?" I asked. "It seems very comfortable."

And why are you blushing, I wondered.

"Um, it squeaks," she muttered. "The squeak sort of disturbs us."

Well, yes, I could imagine it would. I'd hate to sleep on a bed that squeaked every time I moved. Funny, I didn't remember that old bed squeaking, although something was nagging at the back of my mind.

I bounced on the bed a bit more but it remained quiet. Puzzled, I looked at Maureen. She was blushing and looking elsewhere.

"Um, it doesn't seem to be squeaking now," I said. "It will be a bit hard to oil it though if I don't know where to apply the oil."

"It doesn't squeak all the time," she muttered, "just sometimes. When it does it's awfully loud and the noise seems to come from everywhere."

A light dawned. A teenager, me, practicing trampoline moves on a nice big bed. Everything had been fine until I got a nice rhythmic bounce going when I was dropping full length and bouncing back to my feet. (I got quite good at that. The bed was really springy.) However, once I got a certain speed up the bed went berserk. All the springs would seem to scream at the same time. The first time I heard it I was so startled that I'd slipped and found myself splatted against the carpet, scared that I'd broken my bed.

Subsequent to that I'd enjoy the bouncing and squeaking until my mother walked past and heard the racket. She given me a real mouthful and that was the end of my trampolining on the bed.

Now I got the problem. A young couple, happily screwing, just getting a nice rhythm going and then the bed starts wailing. Coitus interruptus time.

"Let me guess," I said dryly. "The bed protest during certain activities. You promptly stop those activities and feel frustrated. Why not just ignore the noise. It would probably be over in a few moments."

Maureen was blushing harder than ever.

"We can't continue with that noise going on," she muttered. "Everyone would know what we were doing."

I blinked, running my eyes over her figure. Damn right they'd know what she and her husband were doing at night.

"So what? Everyone knows what you're doing anyway. I assure you, one look at you and I knew straight away the sort of things your husband would be doing with you."

"Well, there's a difference between people guessing that we have sex at night and people listening to us do it. There's no way we can carry on. Can't you do something about the bed?

"Bit awkward to swap it around," I pointed out. "That would just make it someone else's problem. I'll tell my mother about it and she'll probably replace the bed, but that won't help you right now."

I glanced around the room. There was a nice sturdy dressing table there, complete with a very large mirror. There was also a very nice rug on the floor, with a very thick, soft, pile. The weather was currently quite warm. Maureen's scanty shorts and top attested to that.

"Maureen, you see that dressing table?"

She nodded, looking puzzled.

"Grab it with both hands and try to shake it."

No way known she would be able to budge it. The thing was heavy.

Looking rather bemused Maureen did as I suggested. She tried to shake it, even bending down a bit to put some muscle into it. The dressing table ignored her. I stepped up behind her.

"If you were to present yourself to your husband like this," I said, giving her bottom a friendly pat, "he could have your panties down and you getting some serious affection with no noise."

She squeaked and jumped erect, her hands on her bottom where I'd patted her.

"Mickey would never do that," she gasped. "He's a very straight laced sort of guy. He wouldn't dream of, well, what you said."

"What, he wouldn't pull down your panties and push you over the nearest solid object? What's his second name, Mouse?"

"It's just that he has standards," she snapped. "That's all."

He might have but she didn't. Her nipples were tight and all I'd done was pat her on the bottom. (And discussed her sex life, in a round-about manner.)

"Geez, a moron" I muttered, making sure it was just loud enough for her to hear but be able to ignore, although her flush did deepen a trifle.

"Well, might I point out that there is a very nice shag pile rug next to the bed? Why can't he just lie you down on that? It's soft and roomy and I'm sure you know what shag is a synonym for."

"What, on the floor? We couldn't. And the rug isn't long enough anyway."

"Why couldn't you? People have been doing it on the floor for thousands of years. And what do you mean it's not long enough? Just get on your hands and knees and let him rip."

"I told you. Mickey has standards. He wouldn't be that crude."

I rolled my eyes. Crude? She had to be kidding.

"Maureen, what could be cruder than a man taking out his dick and sticking it in a woman? It's the ultimate crudeness. What the fuck does it matter where he does it as long as you're reasonably private and happy. You're complaining that the noise of the bed makes it too non-private. I offer reasonable suggestions and you say they're too crude."

I glared at her with some exasperation.

"Well, if it has to be the bed why don't you just bend over the bed and let him take you? That should solve the noise problem. It probably only happens when the whole bed is stressed."

"You don't know that," Maureen pointed out. "Imagine how he'd feel if we started and the wailing also started and we had to stop again."

"Geez, I feel you don't want a solution. Look, I'll prove that the last suggestion is viable."

"And just how do you propose to do that?"

For answer I spun her around and propelled her over to the bed.

"Just bend over," I snapped, already tugging at her shorts.

"Wait," she squeaked. "What do you think you're doing?"

"I'm going to help you determine if you can make love on the bed the way I suggested," I replied. "All you have to do is bend over the bed. I'll drop your shorts and demonstrate. If the bed starts to squeak then you'll know you can't do it this way. If you can't, Mickey will have to overcome his scruples and bang you on the rug or the dresser, or you won't get laid."

"But, but that means you'd have to, ah, I mean, um, oh my god. What are you doing? This is just a test isn't it?"

What I was doing was flicking open the catch on her shorts and drawing them down. Now her panties were about to follow.

"Yes it's a test, but I'll need to get you going properly to set up a nice rhythm, so I'm pulling down your panties. I can't very well prove anything while they're on, now can I?"

"Um, I guess, but if the bed starts to squeak you'll stop, right?"

"Wrong. If it starts to squeak we'll keep going to see how loud it gets. It might not be as loud as you fear. Don't worry. There's no one else around to hear it."

Now I was rubbing her pussy, just gently stroking it. Her pointy little nipples hadn't lied. She was wet and horny, even if a might confused.

"Does Mickey take your top off," I asked and she nodded. "Then perhaps you'd better do that. We want to make this seem realistic."

Mind you, what could be more realistic than me screwing her arse off?

She dithered for a second and then peeled of her top.

"Can you undo the bra for me?" she asked and I was happy to oblige.

"OK," I said quietly. "I'm going to start slowly and after a while we'll build up some speed. Are you ready?"

Not that I was greatly concerned whether she was or not. I sure was. I lightly pressed my cock against her pussy, letting her feel it nudging her entrance. Reaching down I delicately eased her lips apart, easing my way into her.

"Oh my god. Um, you're just putting it in a little bit aren't you?" she asked.

"Not really," I replied. "I think you'll find it has to go right in to get you worked up and moving properly. Just let me know if you want me to stop."

With that I pressed slowly in, just easing my way down her passage, feeling her hot moist flesh yielding quite happily, closing around me as I passed. It wasn't all that long and I was fully inside her.

"OK," I murmured. "We're off to a good start. From here on I'll take it slowly, gradually building up speed when we need to."

True to my word I took it slowly, pulling well back and then pushing back in nice and slow. I wondered how long she would put up with it. Not very, it turned out.

"Um, that's very nice," she said, sounding a touch hoarse, "but I think you need to go a little faster. You're not going to bounce the bed at this rate."

That seemed fair enough. I started speeding up. Arms around her I gently rubbed her breasts, massaging them in time to the pumping I was doing. She was squirming under me, her bottom pushing back firmly to meet my thrusts, quite happily taking me deep. I increased my speed a bit more.

Relatively quickly we developed a nice vigorous rhythm. The bed was shaking with the force of our movements, but silently. It really needed a full body bouncing on it to strain the springs.

I kept on pounding away, Maureen responding beautifully. She was gasping and making appreciative little sounds. Not so little, come to think of it. Why on earth were they worried about a bed squeaking when she was almost yodelling her response? Maybe he gagged her. I was quite happy to let her sound off.

Maureen was gasping and sounding off right up to the end. It was quite an ending, too. I started driving home harder and faster, ready to blow my load. Maureen's wailing yodel just stopped dead and she started to shake. I could feel her internal muscles clamping down on me but that was fine by me. I was already letting loose.

I disengaged while Maureen was slumped over the bed then sat by her until she got herself together. When she finally seemed to be back with the world I reassured her.

"No problems," I said. "All you need to do is have Mickey bend you over the bed and it will remain quiet."

Maureen nodded, apparently satisfied.

"That will be a relief," she said. "It sounds silly I know but it seems ages since I've had sex. I'm sure Mickey will go along with the bed idea."

"Before you broach the bed idea, why don't you suggest the alternatives, the dressing table and the rug? You never know, he may be feeling adventurous. If not, the suggestion that you bend over the bed should come as a relief."

She suddenly looked down at herself.

"Oh my god, I'm naked," she gasped. "Don't look at me."

She hastily scrambled into her clothes, throwing angry little glances at me when I didn't look away.

"You're not a gentleman," she hissed at me. "You had no right to look at me when I was undressed. That was only for your silly little test."

"Quite right," I said. "I apologise. I'll speak to my mother about getting the bed replaced. Until then, just make do as I showed you."

She thanked me politely, seeing me out of her room. The frustrated look had gone from her eyes. She seemed smug, happily waiting for Mickey to get home so she could finally have sex again.

For the life of me, I can't imagine what she thought we were doing while trying out my little test.