Mum/Son Tease Homestay Hosts Ch. 01

She was a transformed woman in the glow presence of Jim, like twice the woman she was. Her voice took on a slightly husky edge.

We made ourselves scarce.

***

Part 8

Vroom

We rented a sufficiently low, aerodynamic, dangerous-looking sports car for a lark, to explore the area a bit, and check out if Woodsworth's poetic ruminations were indeed true.

Seb walked slowly around the beast, inspected it closely like a horse before a race. He ran his palm over the dashboard as if stroking the neck of a large dog. It appeared he already knew where all the buttons and levers were located, like he had been born in this womb of machinery. He liked handling the manual shift, like me, although for different reasons.

He put on his aviator sunshades. His spirit soared.

Seb pointed the Lamborghini in the general direction of the Arctic, revved, and it got going pronto, throttling a free will of its own. He seemed to shift gears with great pleasure. As he drove, he sang some nothing song in an awful voice that sounded jolly good.

Seb was an excellent driver. I had half expected a young demented loose cannon terrorising the country lanes, wreaking mayhem.

He operated the car smoothly. No sudden jerks. The road was crowded in parts with daytrippers, punctuated with frequent stoplights. He was focused on changing gears smoothly. The movement of his eyes told me that. When I closed my own eyes, though, I found it next to impossible to tell when he shifted. Only the sound of the engine let me know which gear the car was on. The touch of his foot on the brake and accelerator pedals was light and measured. Best of all, he was entirely relaxed. Perhaps the driving put him in a Zen frame of mind?

Did Seb enjoy the intimacy with this machine as he did with me? I am being utterly ridiculous. An idea flitted across my mind whose time might come later.

I settled back in the leather seat. Closed my eyes. Tried to focus my mind on the sound of the engine when Seb shifted gears. But, I couldn't catch the precise movement. It was all too smooth, too mysterious. I could only make out a slight gradation in the engine's hum. It was like the wings of a flying insect, now drawing closer, now fading away. Seb made love to me this way too. A man machine.

"So tell me, what's the diff between a Ferrari, a Lambo, a Maserati and a Porsche?"

Seb removed his baseball cap, examined its shape, then stuck it back on his head.

"If you've heaps of money and you want emotion and soul, it's Ferrari. Loud and obnoxious, Lambo. If you're a pretender to the throne, Maserati. Adore the engineering, Porsche."

Seb revs the Lambo to roar, as if in affirmation.

"Speed is a killer."

"Being alive is a killer, if you think about it."

Then, the mean machine lumbered to a crawl. In front was a livestock truck, full of pigs, their red eyes peering through the slats. Could pigs distinguish between a Lambo and a Toyota? They probably couldn't. We underestimate their intelligence.

Seb musing philosophically, "Ever wondered what the personal lives of pigs are like?"

"Pigs are not persons. They can't have personal lives. Only people have personal lives. And some, the personal life of pigs."

***

Part 9

Gypsy

At Ravenglass, there was a young gypsy fortune teller, not much older than Seb. Seb was giving her the eye. Cute was not a word to describe a fortune-teller, but she was just that. Quite uncharacteristic of the trade, which was plied by wizened mystical old women.

I felt a stab of jealousy. The gypsy cast a look at me that exact instant.

Her face exuded focus. But, the impression she left behind was somehow blurry.

There was a single mole on her right earlobe. The mole called up a childhood memory. My younger brother had a mole about the same size, at another spot of his body. When he was little, I used to rub his mole with a soft eraser when he was asleep, trying to rub it off. My brother would wake up, angry. Now, why am I thinking of this irrelevant thing?

She had a trident-shaped purple birthmark, clearly not a tattoo because of its poor definition, to the right of the nape of her neck, that she seemed to have no qualms exposing. She bottomed out with black Chuck Taylor All-Star Converse sneakers.

She could well play the role of an intrepid fortune teller assisting the lead detective in a TV crime drama series.

She raised her head slowly, looking like she was listening to the wind blowing far away. This alone convinced me to let her read my palm.

"You'll live till 88. Marry three times. Die instantly in a high speed spectacular traffic accident."

"Hmm... not a bad life! Though the ending is a little inconvenient."

She sensed our skepticism, if not our cynicism, but betrayed no leak of emotion.

Suddenly, she perked up and talked about me. Who I am.

Three parallel creases would form across her broad forehead whenever she stopped to think about something, and when she finished thinking, they would disappear.

Once, four creases showed up. I wondered which part of me gave her some difficulty to unpick?

It was hard to believe, but she knew everything there was to know about me. Who was in my family, Seb's name, my age, interests, my second favourite colour, health, closest friends. She knew it all. Even things I had long forgotten, she knew everything about.

I blushed. I felt like I had been stripped naked in front of people.

And then, she gave me a conspiring gaze that said she knew deeper, maybe darker intimacies, but it would be inconvenient to say in Seb's presence.

She had this faraway look for a while, and then as if a noise she heard was actually a signal, turned to Seb, looked deep into his eyes, "You like woman machines?"

"Huh?"

She said nothing, remaining adequately enigmatic.

We didn't know what to do except to thank her. This girl had the wherewithal to summarily despatch Seb and me to jail.

I gave her a huge tip which she accepted without any hint of emotion.

***

A chill raced up my spine.

"That was creepy."

Seb reflectively, "She got your past accurate with scientific precision. But, she is a fortune-teller. Fortune-telling is about the future. Her performance says nothing about the accuracy of her predictions."

"You're to drive DEAD slow. Or else, I will drive."

"Mum, you're not nearly yet 88. And you've been married only once."

"The 88 could mean 88 miles per hour."

"Still..."

***

We needed sobering up after that experience. We went into a hole-in-the-wall dive of a pub. The stale aroma of cigarettes, whiskey, chips, unwashed armpits and bad plumbing all neatly layered before me. The place was dirty, noisy, cheap and very good.

When we moved out to the garden, we watched a miraculous brilliant sunset. It could well have been rented from Universal Studios. Everything was soaked in brilliant red. My hand. Seb's face. The table. The red Lambo redder. The world. As if some special kind of fruit juice had splashed down on everything. To think that there were still sunsets like this.

I looked pensively at my son under the brilliance. He knew my body the way a country boy knew his mountain trails. He knew all my desires. Everything I wanted and didn't. He knew how far to go, and when to stop. In bed and out. His well-mannered fingers knew how to preen my femininity. Fucking... he brought sensuality and raw energy to this collaborative project. When he was with me, in me, I felt something was just right. Made me feel like I was flying First Class.

My mind flitted back to my first time with Seb just not so long ago. I was caressing his testicles with my fingers. I cupped my hands on them, as if to warm myself, like I would on a mug of cocoa on a winter night, fixing my eyes on him, my lip lightly puckered. Discovering his finer nuances. He felt the metallic cool of my wedding ring over his sac. It gave him a chill. I felt a small polished stone sinking through the darkest waters of my heart. It was that kind of a feeling.

***

Part 10

Rainstorm

The wind had gathered strength. You could sense it, if not see it, cavorting across the valley like a wild animal. It was time to head back.

And then, the smell of rain was suddenly everywhere.

Tiny pellets struck my cheeks and forehead. I found the irregular way they landed on my face exhilarating. What a blessing rain could be. I wondered what the sensation might be like if I was naked.

It rained buckets. Someone was tipping a huge bowl of water out of the sky. We rushed back inside the car not a moment too soon. Seb's wet raincoat brought in the smell of the rain.

Seb started the car engine so that he could turn on the aircon. We got comfortable. The windscreens were streaked with water drops. A ceaseless cycle of new drops replacing the old. For a minute, I was mesmerised by the fine transformation in the patterns on the glass. Beyond these patterns laid the random, grey landscape.

Even though the Lambo was static, I could feel its reverberating, throbbing power. An outrageous power was manipulating me.

"I want to be held and told my name. Take off my clothes. Touch me all over. Enter my warm moistness."

"This is a public carpark. We're mum and son the last time I checked my birth cert. Are you sure about this?"

"Look out of the windscreen. Can you see anything with this rain at full pelt? Would any sane person brave this rain?"

The rain dominated the landscape, turning everything into strange images of itself. It fell with a vigour and perseverance that scared me a little. The scene seemed somehow apart from reality, although reality, I knew, could at times be terribly unreal.

Seb flattened both seats to be inclined at their lowest, near horizontal. He laid down on the driver's seat, face up.

I sat astride his thighs, cowgirl, facing him and the rear windscreen so that I could keep watch. His penis gave a small nod as if to tell my pussy it remembered her.

"Son, wriggle your arse down a bit till your right foot is on the accelerator pedal."

"What? Are we going somewhere?"

I said nothing.

We kind of implicitly agreed that there was no need for long refined love play. We were both too far gone for that. Foreplay could wait until later, for now, we had to free ourselves from the urgency of our overstrained libidos.

I positioned myself over the crown of his penis, and then, I slowly let him enter me. He was so hard as I guided him through my folds. I sat down on him. He filled me.

He gave a low moan. His hands came up to fondle my breasts. I felt his hard hot shaft penetrating me, fitting tight to my walls. I could not hold back a sobbing cry.

I had been penetrated many times before, but somehow, this was different.

His length was completely inserted into me. I let him rest there for a moment, clamping my walls round him. He moaned again.

I clenched his shaft again, teasing, "Do you like this?"

"Oh God, yes! Do it again."

I flexed myself again and held him in my grip for a few moments, then releasing him. I began to move a little on him, "Put it all in me. Just let it all go."

"Kiss me"

I leaned forward and kissed him until I couldn't breathe. He held me skin to skin.

I wanted to move on him again, but he urged me to stay locked in the embrace with our arms around each other and my breasts in his chest.

Finally, he put his hands under me and urged me to move.

I rose and fell on him, spearing myself on his stiffness. I was soaked inside and out.

He writhed as he slipped into my wet fire, his feet recoiled then thrust out, and the Lambo revved furiously. Seb began to understand the machinations of it all.

He slid deeper into my skin. Our lovemaking, a song of ice and fire. There was an order to our movements, a deliberateness and focus, that was working toward a unified glorious high.

The Lambo revved in unison and in harmony to my cowgirl humps. Man, woman, machine were one. The roar was so deafening amid the rain, it became almost peaceful.

Seb was alarmed.

"Will this attract attention? Someone may come over despite the slashing rain."

"Chill! Nobody will dare come close to a revving Lambo that may take off any moment."

The rev became roar.

A collective shudder, then tremor. We collapsed into a tangled body heap, lingering in the zone. I experienced an exorbitant happiness.

After he climbed down, he nuzzled, then kissed me, to thank me for making the moment possible.

We remained naked as if willing the rain to stop on us. We were in a car wash. God's wash. Any moment now, someone aptly named Alfie would tap sharply on the windscreen to indicate that the wash was done, and the translucent flow of water would stop suddenly. We'd have to move on with our lives.

I enjoyed curling up, talking, or not talking, to my man during those languid, intimate moments after making love. In this surreal watery cocoon, it was weird. But, utterly exciting.

I hummed, "There's a summer place, where it may rain or storm, yet, I'm safe and warm, in your arms.... And the sweet secret of a summer place is that it's anywhere. When two people share, all their hopes, all their dreams, all their love..."

It occurred to me that I was singing in the rain. About the rain. Sort of. I enjoyed the rain as much as a child might, without the awareness of weather and climate. I forgot the reality that surrounded me, if only for a moment.

Eventually, the sun went down, and our surroundings were enfolded in deep darkness.

***

That night, I had a vivid dream. Dreams came from the past, not from the future. But, this one did. And it rained.

***

Part 11

Let's Dance

We were listening to music. The wine had curiously sharpened and dulled our senses. There was a feel-good atmosphere in the living room. The night air from the lake was true and sharp.

Jane said that this was their song. A haunting melody that was both happy and sad all at once. J&J got up to slow-dance. Seb and I watched them. They were really immersed into the music.

As they glided past us, perceptive Jane sensed that Seb and I might like to dance, but may be bashful about it because we were naked. She encouraged invitingly, "Maybe you would like to join us?"

Seb looked at me. I smiled.

We got up. I stepped forward into Seb's arms.

Without hesitation, Seb wrapped his long arms around my nude body. He squeezed me tightly against him. I melted into him. The contours of my maternal breasts melded onto his chest. My sensitive nipples chaffed against his chest.

Seb was tall. Taller than he had ever been. More like a big brother than a son. Seb's flaccid penis pressed against my belly, pointing up. Jane stole an interested glance at us. I melded my torso closer to Seb in an earnest attempt to obscure his shaft in our body mash. Seb stiffened a little. It looked like I was solving one problem, and promptly stirring up another.

"Ouch! I think I picked up a splinter from the wooden floor," I cried, feigning a minor injury.

"I'll get my shoes from the bedroom."

When I returned to the living room in my shoes, the song was over. J&J were on the sofa.

The next song started playing. An even slower number, but more melodious. Jane asked us to go ahead and dance. They would take a breather.

J&J gave me a curious, incredulous look. I must have been quite a sight, naked, perched on high-heels. The stilettos looked like some kind of deadly weapon. The designer was inspired by an ice pick.

I felt obliged to explain, "My sneakers are caked in mud from our wet outdoor walk this morning. These are my only other shoes."

I stepped forward into Seb's arms. He wrapped his arms around my body. He squeezed me tightly against him. I melted into him. We were sewn together. People say only a body can really know another body. My taut nipples pricked his chest. My contours melded onto his, but this time, with a marked difference. In my raised high-heels, Seb's genitals were aligned to mine. I cast a surreptitious glance toward J&J. They observed this detail, and wore expectant looks, like they were willing for something to happen.

What should I do? I could mash myself tightly against Seb, to obscure both our genitals. But, it would heighten Seb's exuberance, making the situation worse. I could navigate our dance to drift farther from J&J, but that contrived social distancing might appear impolite to our gracious hosts. In any case, the living room was not big. If I kicked off my high-heels to go barefoot again, the reversal would seem odd.

I worried way too much. Seb solved our problem, though I couldn't tell whether it was by natural impulse, or by devious design.

Seb pressed close to me, and lodged himself at the junction of my mound and upper thighs. It stiffened a notch. But, it was not erect. Not yet. I could detect a hint of desire in his eyes, like a faint light deep in a mineshaft.

I felt a wave of confused lust shot through me, as Seb softly kissed and tongued my naked shoulders. I felt as if I was dancing on ground that was floating on water.

What were J&J seeing? Could they see my son nestling between my thighs? Could they see my son effectively dry humping his mum? What kind of mum would allow her son to insert himself between her thighs while dancing? Was this isolated intimacy occasioned by the poetic romance of their holiday location and circumstances? Or, were they lovers? How did the husband, the dad, fit into this?

My son's male hands felt rough on my bare back. He held me for a long time, peering deep into the back of my eyes. And me, his.


We danced this way, his warm hand running up and down my naked back, till the end of the song, and then, into the next one.

It was awfully quiet despite the music. Almost too quiet. It was like rail tracks without trains passing on them have a mysterious silence all their own.

J&J began dancing again. What if they asked to change dance partners? No, it would be uncharacteristic of them. If I read them right, they were more likely to get aroused by our taboo intimacy, and then, retire to their private space to heighten that arousal to fruition. Perhaps Jake would be inspired to roleplay their son, who was around Seb's age? The idea aroused a strange emotion in me.

I noticed that J&J were more preoccupied with each other. I took this opportunity to heighten my experience with Seb a little, since we had come this far.

I tightened my upper thighs grip on Seb, and then eased off. I felt a sweet ache.

Clenched, relaxed. Clenched, relaxed. Clenched, relaxed.

Seb felt the motherly pressure on him. It was not strong. But it was even and steady. Once cause and effect linked up, there was no escape.

Seb was in a state. He started a slow sawing motion. I could not allow this. The burrowing motion would surely attract the attention of J&J. And god knows what would happen if we carried on to its end. We would be flailing like demented souls.

On Seb's out-stroke, I clenched my thighs tight. We had to stop.

Seb was too aroused to think straight. He instinctively pressed his engorged head at the juncture crack of my crotch and upper thighs. With one hard roll of his hips, he reentered my wet heat.

I didn't know what came over me. I instinctively clamped around him. He looked like he was being burned alive with the sweetest heat.

I was alarmed. Whimpering, "No, no. Stop!"

Just then, as if the music system heard me, the music stopped. The dancing stopped. Although Seb had disengaged, I could still feel his stiff pubic hair on my thighs. His presence remained on my flesh. I instinctively clenched my junction, only to find that I was clamping myself.

J&J were looking. They saw Seb's glistening erection. Maybe they saw the glistening excitement on my thatch? Soft and silent as a new moon, a smile drifted across Jane's face.