Mum/Son Tease Homestay Hosts Ch. 01

All this was quite erotic. Seen, but not really. If my son found his mummy appealing enough to immortalise her in pixels for posterity, shouldn't I, a mature late fifties woman, be feeling good, if not be rejoicing mutedly?

I was more relaxed now. Almost becalmed in spite of the palpable taut erotic tension.

After what seemed like the longest time, I felt sufficiently emboldened to turn over to reveal my front.

A special moment. I opened my eyes. The moment of full disclosure. Divine revelation. This moment was only for once, never to be replayed. I wanted to see his eyes with my own eyes.

My son saw my naked breasts for the first time. I unconsciously cupped my breasts, pressed them together, held them up, as if offering treasured objects for his private inspection. Never exposed to sun, my white mounds felt raw. Could he make out the thin, blue veins that traveled to my nipples?

I could hear his intake of male breath. Like the sound of a velvet curtain being drawn aside on a peaceful morning to let the sunlight in to wake someone very special to you.

I crossed my right thigh over my left, thigh flesh pressing thigh flesh in a lock, maintaining a remnant of modesty on my most feminine. A tuft of bush peeked out from my junction. My slit was obscured. Or maybe the top of my slit was showing a little? I couldn't really be sure.

Just then, a tiny gypsy moth blew in from nowhere. It fluttered about like a scrap of paper. It landed on my nipple. Lingered awhile. Then flew off again. Was this a sign of something?

From nowhere, the gypsy moth reappeared, fluttering between Jim and me. It landed on his head, seemingly sucking up the droplet of male excitement near his slit. We exchanged astounded looks, at a loss for words. Serendipity?

Jim looked at me with a monk's focus. Chin drawn in, lips curled, he took some time to look me over from head to toe. I imagined that any minute, he was going to whip out his tape measure and start measuring me everywhere.

He said I reminded him of Tuscany. Huh? All hills and curves.

I was highly aroused. I felt the air around me grew thin. My nipples tightened under my skin. My peeking pubic hair glistened like grass in the rain. A streamlet of female arousal seeped down my thighs. Jim saw this telltale. I was about to feign a movement to scratch an imaginary leg itch, to wipe off the unseemly evidence. My units of shame were multiplying fast. I should be properly ashamed. But I wasn't. I was relishing the shame.

We felt like we were in another world. The energy of our nudity was working on us. It made us feel truly free. So this is nudism? I could live with it. My son and I could live with it. The whole meaning of life was happening right then.

Every moment happens twice. Inside and outside. And they have different histories.

I told Jim no touching. That would be crossing the line. Or rather, a line. But, I couldn't help it. Not before giving a little touch on his charm throttle. I just let my little desires sweep me along.

I so wanted to touch flesh then. But, I had to make do with my own. I was feeling myself, as if groping uncertainly for the meaning of my own flesh.

Sensitive, perceptive Jim soon followed my cue. This would have to do. His unhurried movements gave the attic its own special flow of time. After a while, a gentle smile played around the corners of his mouth, as if something wonderful was about to occur.

He was extravagant. Enough to put out a small fire.

***

After that, we spent pleasurable agonising moments just looking at each other. That was all we did. Informing each other back and forth. A dialectic. Pleasant, but I could also sense a kind of friction in the air, and it made me tense.

Silence wove itself into the spaces of everything around us. If only we could stay this way forever.

He studied my top. Then, my bottom. As if unable to make up his mind, he maintained a broadened field of vision, his line of vision fixed on my whole being.

"You don't think they're starting to droop? They're natural, you know."

"I know you said no touching. I respect that. But since you asked, I've to make a determination."

He slid his hands under my breasts. Kneaded them. Moved them this way and that. Took my nipples between thumb and forefinger, gave them a hard pinch, as if assessing their pliancy for edibility.

"No, they're perfect."

I opened my legs a little. Not so wide as to be lewd. Just enough. He could see more of me now. I combed my rip curl of thicket a little with my fingers to work it into some obedient form. Could he see any pink?

He said it looked as if it had been made moments before. Like a freshly baked madeleine. A little puffy. It appeared to be turned outward, like a dainty ear, trying to listen closely to something.

He said he felt like he had been privileged to join a secret club, with its own code word and special sign, and degrees of initiation. Jim always had a way with words.

I closed my legs a little. He said he liked the way my lips tightened into a straight line.

"You're trimmed to a delightful heart shape. So pretty."

"It's natural. I've never done anything to my bottom all my life."

"But, it's so perfectly shaped. I find this hard to believe."

"I know I said no touching. But just this once...," I trailed off.

He fussed over tiny details. But, he was awfully generous with big things.

I sniffed a hint of sexual desire. It frightened me. There was no turning back now, was there? Even if we could turn back, we would not end up where we started.

***

That morning, my son expanded the outer edges of my world.

I felt as though I was standing alone on the summit of a hill, the wind swirling around me. Well, I do live on a hill.

***

The memory of the attic returns to me sometimes, traveling down a very long passageway to arrive. And when it does, its unexpected power shakes me a little.

I find myself sitting in front of the mirror longer than ever before and examining my body more thoroughly. I am not being narcissistic. I inspect my body from a number of angles, as if it is somebody else's. Sometimes, I think I see my son on the other side of the mirror. It looks to me like my own soul is being sucked into the other side of the mirror. I love that vision, and at the same time, it frightens me.

***

Last night, I had a dream...

I'm in a small room. A nice neat room that is a comfortable place to be. It has ribbons of many colours hanging from the ceiling. Ribbons of different shapes and lengths. Each rippling ribbon in its own way sends a thrill of excitement through me. I want to pull one, and the ribbon wants to be pulled by me. But, I don't know which one to pull. I feel that I might pull a ribbon and have a whole magnificent spectacle open up before my eyes. But that just as easily, everything can be ruined in an instant. And so I hesitate, and while I linger in confusion, another day would end.

I wish I knew Jim knew what I'm dreaming of. He has shaken my heart from a strange angle.

Why is anyone attracted to anyone? It's a confluence of factors, no? Memory, fantasy, desire. Who's to say?

The best questions, they never have satisfying answers.

Reality is what we take to be true. What we take to be true is what we believe. What we believe is based upon our perceptions. What we perceive depends upon what we look for.

I have this strange feeling that I am not myself anymore. It's hard to put it into words. It's as if I was fast asleep, and someone came and disassembled me. And hurriedly put me back together again when I showed signs of waking.

You know the feeling of exhilaration when you board a long-distance train without luggage. It is as if while taking a casual evening stroll, you decided to do something radical. It is as if you have been singing in the shower all your life, and now, you want to sing in the rain.

***

I haven't planned on revealing this. There's something more that adds to my angst and urgency. I know I've no right to load this on you like this. But, it is eating me.

The day after tomorrow, I've to go to a hospital in town to get a second examination for breast cancer. They found a suspicious shadow on my annual x-ray and told me to come in so they can run some more tests. If it really turns out to be cancer, I might have to have an operation right away. Maybe this is why I feel the things I feel now...

***

Oh, Saula, I've said way too much. I'm a little ashamed of my outpouring. I just know that the moment I hit the send button, I'll immediately regret it, and recoil in mortification.

What should I do? I want to find something that I feel that will find its own form.

Hugs and kisses.

Bye!

Jane

xxx

***

Epilogue

My transcendental meditation done, it was the business part of my morning. I cupped the coffee with both hands, and drank it slowly, preciously. The slightest glow came to my eyes.

I launched the homestay app to look at my messages.

A booking from a woman. A special request. Could I be so kind to accommodate, she asked?

The End

To be continued.