Mum's Intimate Pictures

Pip (quipping): Well mum, you raised me. In more ways than you intended. So, you know best.

Julia: Hmmm... now, don't you get too clever by half with me!

Pip: So, my exuberance is that obvious, huh! Yes, I am hot and bothered. To say the least.

Julia (smirking): There is hope yet for your venerable matriach mum.

Pip (pointedly): Mum, know that you are hot.

Mother and son gradually ease up to a sensual visual equilibrium. They enjoy each other's nudity with diminishing bashfulness as they banter. The air warms up with the rising sun, baking the beach sand.

***

Julia suggests that they trek to the rockpool waterfall at the western nook of the island, to cool down.

A ten minute hike. Pip gets a second viewing of his mum's marching orbs as she tracks purposefully ahead. Is his mum exaggerating her movements? Is she clenching her cheeks with every third step?

As mother and son thread through a concealed opening in a towering tangle of vines and creepers, they emerge from the thick of the muggy forest. A pixel-perfect postcard scene greets them.

As nude Julia steps into the light of day again, she bows dramatically, stretches out one hand, then introduces "Voila! Pristine Falls".

The falls cascade gently from an upper serene pond, then roar fast and furious into a rockpool. Poetic tranquility and graceful turbulence in the same sweep of vision.

Pip's eyes light up. He has hiked through many waterfalls and rockpools in his sojourns over many countries. This is the closest to heaven that he will ever get to without the inconvenience of dying.

Julia savours the satisfaction of seeing her son in awe. She remembers her own wondrous awe the first time she stumbled upon these falls by fortuitous exploratory accident two years ago.

And better yet, Julia tells an enthralled Pip that there is a small hidey-hole cave behind the waterfall curtain. It is a blissful experience chilling inside this watery cocoon of nature. She insists that he must experience it, or he hasn't really lived.

Julia enthuses, "Let's enjoy our moment here. Let Pristine Falls work its magic on us. Last one in is a rotten egg!"

Shortly, they are in the rockpool. Julia dips her head into the filmy water, then, dramatically flicks her head back, to form a peacock flurry arc of spray. They frolic like born again teens set loose from institutional captivity, basking in the euphoria of skin engaging water, sun and wind.

Their horseplay starts innocently enough. Mother and son goofing around. Splashing. Upending each other.

This culminates in the obligatory horse ride. Julia mounts her son's shoulders. Her soft smooth creamy calves brush his nipples. Pip feels a rush as his mother's bushed mound grazes the back of his neck. Is this his imagination, or did his mother tighten her genital grip on the nape of his neck?

They venture into the deeper water.

With childlike eagerness, in her element, Julia trills, "Let's check out the waterfall hidey-hole."

They swim over to the waterfall. Pip heaves himself up at the face of the waterfall, relishing water crashing and foaming over his face in a violent yet pleasant pummel. A raw therapeutic watery massage.

He then helps his mother clamber up. As he pulls her up, he can't help but notice the torrent of falling water jiggling her breasts. As she emerges out of the torrential flow, the sag of her breasts quiver. Are her hardened nipples because of the cold, or the caress of the water?

Pip peers behind the water curtain. A small cavern. The hidey-hole is not anything like what his mother had described. It is infinitely better. Its cool ambience is in sharp contrast to the glorious sunlit warmth outside. The incessant heady roar of falling water. The soft showering caressing stray sprays. A moving cinematic view of the world through the surging water curtain. A dreamy water cocoon that is a world unto itself.

Pip sits and leans against the back of the hidey-hole in wonder. Their hidey-hole. Julia does the same next to him. They, particularly Pip, are at a loss for even the most basic words. They immerse in an aura that is a hazy unity of fantasy and reality.

Pip gazes at his mother. He is assaulted by mother nature on every front. In the dark of the hidey-hole, and the backlit radiance of the water curtain, she presents a surreal vision of loveliness.

The back of the hidey-hole is cold as damp rock is apt to be. Julia shunts over seeking warmth. She sits in front of her son. She pauses momentarily as if serving him notice of her next move. She reclines gently. After a minute of snuggling down to fuzzy comfort, she cocks her head back to look at him, and then twinkles a kittenish knowing smile.

Mesmerised, mother and son watch Pristine Falls fall.

Pip is about to say something. She places one slender finger on his lips, and gently shushes him, knowing better that the spoken word has no place in this cocoon of thundering water. She glides her dainty finger from one corner of his lips to the other and then, draws her finger away.

She leans in and places her lips on his. They are soft, warm and moist. He drinks in her scent.

She comes up from the kiss and smiles again. He is speechless. Again, she kisses him. And again, he feels as if he is in heaven. She breaks the kiss and moves back a little. Her eyes holding his.

She puts her hands on either side of his face. She slowly presses her breasts against his face. She grinds his face, as if intent on gouging his eyes with her painfully erect nipples. He closes his eyes not a moment too soon as her pointed nipples glide across his eyelids. Now, he knows he is in heaven as her soft, smooth, warm flesh engulfs his face in a sort of pleasant suffocation.

He lays her back gently on the cave floor. He kisses her. Then he kisses her neck, and slowly moves down towards her breasts. He licks and kisses them, sucking on them and gently teasing them with his teeth. As he sucks at her nipple, she cradles his head in her arms. For a moment, she is his mother again, and him, her son. Then, he lifts his face and continues kissing his way down. She is his lover again.

He kisses over her stomach, running his tongue over her soft skin. He continues down, and all too soon, he is between her legs. He kisses the inside of her thighs, where her skin is softest. She cannot suppress a tiny wriggle as he gently grinds his teeth on her. And then, there is the moment when he cannot tease her anymore. He has to do it. In one silken, slow motion, he runs his tongue over her most sensitive zone. She moans softly, arches her back and grunts deeply as he licks her for the second time. Her moistness. She tastes like heaven.

He runs his tongue over her vagina lips again and again, getting faster and more confident as she moans in response. His tongue feels her opening, begging for something inside. He raises a finger and slides it in. She bucks slightly as he probes inside with his finger, while playing with the small pink button hidden in her pink lips with the tip of his tongue. He slips a second finger inside her. She is moaning softly as he lifts his head. She catches his eye and beckons him with a finger.

He kisses his way back up to her face. She rests a hand on his shoulder. Their hips are against each other. Gazing passionately into each other's eyes, she nods gently.

He moves his hips. In one swift movement he is inside her. All barriers are broken. A line crossed.

She closes her eyes as he slides in. All the way. As he reaches her deepest sanctum, she whimpers and grips his shoulder tight. He holds for a second, then slides back, only to come straight back in. He slides in and out of her until she is comfortable. Then, he slowly increases his pace.

He is suddenly aware how small and fragile she is, lying beneath him. Completely dwarfed by his shoulders. Perversely, his mother is his child.

He builds his pace again. She grips his head. Draws him to her. He is holding her body tight against him. Grinding in and out of her. She is holding him. The only sounds are their laboured breathing, their mumurs and groans of pleasure.

The wondrous feelings of impending ejaculation start in his loins. They spread through his groin and stomach before consuming his mind and body.

He is ready to cum. He grips her tightly. She responds, one hand running up and down his back, her nails on the other hand digging into the flesh of his arse. He pushes himself as far into her as he can reach, and then holds his penis rigid all the way up her vagina. She pushes back.

He explodes inside her. All niggling thoughts of this act being dreadfully wrong fade away from his mind. His mother shudders in telepathic harmony and unison.

Spent, he sits languidly against the cool damp cave wall facing the waterfall. His equally dazed mother reclines on him as if he is a lounge chair. He circles his arms around her waist, then tightens his arms as if buckling her down. They make some fine adjustments to engage their body contours. After awhile, he eases the tension, as if she is now secured in place.

He moves his left hand to her left nipple. He rolls the nub between his thumb and forefinger one way, then, the other. One way, then, the other.

He shifts his right hand to her mound, pauses, then begins doodling cryptic patterns on her vee. They again watch the movie that is Pristine Falls playing before them.

Wise men of yore say you can't jump into the same river twice. And so too a waterfall. It never falls the same way twice. Mother and son are transported into a serene slumber.

She stirs first. It takes her awhile to ascertain this unlikely spacetime capsule she is in. Curiously, she feels cold and warm in equal measures. Cold on the outside. Warm on the inside. A warmth that is easy to identify, but, hard to define precisely.

Her movement causes her son to awaken. She feels a wedge of pliant softwood pressing against her arse cheeks. Her son is truly awake now.

She turns her head back to gaze into his eyes. A twinkle of eager expectation. She smirks knowingly. The excesses of youth! It is in abundant flourish here. Like this waterfall.

In the muted cave language that mother and son have become fluently conversant in, he rises, pulling his mother up as well. He pushes his mother's back against the cool damp cave wall. He grabs her wrists. Pulls her arms out so that she is in the position of a crucifixion. This makes her breasts stick out invitingly.

She looks divine. Is this some sort of subconscious deep symbolism that is coming to the fore?

Still holding her wrists, he presses his hard against her confluence of smooth upper thighs and mound. God, this triangulation feels so good!

They kiss passionately as he dry fucks his mother standing up. His mother instinctively tightens her clenched thighs, as if provoking him to piston harder, to breach her seal of thighs. His pace quickens as if goaded on by his imagined increasing thundering crescendo of the waterfall.

She senses her son welling up. She abruptly disentagles from him. A wave of despair washes over him, that his mother feels that this has gone far enough. This is where they must stop.

His mother surprises him.

She drops down to a classic doggy position. Pip's loins reignite in delicious anticipation. In a reversal of configuration from the earlier dry fuck, Pip's back is now pressed against the cave wall.

At his first stroke, his mother bucks, instinctively raising her arse further up. She backs her son flush against the cave wall while he humps her mercilessly. His hands grip her hips, guiding her pushes and grinds while his penis makes movements inside her. His first ten measured strokes result in another of her vaginal contractions. She keeps pressing her arse harder against his strokes, pinning her son against the cave wall. The hot, meaty penetrations of her love canal is getting to feel more pleasurable with each new stroke now.

He feels his sperms welling. He starts pushing his mother away a little, grinding faster, trying to initiate long strokes, while cryptically warning his mother by his tightening grip on her hips that he is climaxing.

She jams her son harder against the cave wall, swivels and grinds her arse tightly, as if demanding him to leave it in.

She orgasms again. He feels a joyous jolt of semen lava. He is wedged. He can't pull out. He shoots again and again
deep inside as he tries to pull out. But his mother slams him, to milk his every drop. He is astounded by his mother's savage sexual aggression. When she at last senses that her son has fired his last salvo, she gently, mercifully crawls forward. He exits.

Mother and son collapse into a tangled body heap. They stretch out on the cave floor, in the surreal cocoon bounded by rock and water, a world unto itself, cuddling in an unstated bond of silence.

Finally, the fragile silence breaks.

Julia whispering conspiratorially in her son's ear as if the world is craning over listening in, "This is to be our only time. And we are never to talk about it."

The sun climbs down the far horizon. As it has risen, it now sets, spent for the day. Shortly, the sky will slam shut.

Julia (pensively): You know, your dad is my first. You, my second.

Pip (quipping): Thanks mum, for saving yourself for me.

Julia playfully slaps his restive phallus, setting off a suggestive pendular harmonic motion.

Julia: Oh no! Not again!

Day is done. They are done.

Mother and son swim back to the cove in easy languid strokes.

DAY SIX

Pip leaves Cliffcombe after breakfast to catch his flight.

***

That night...

Bedroom banter.

Julian: How was your day at the cove with Pip?

Julia: Lovely! Pip was enamoured of the whole works. The secret bush access. The wild cliff path. The cove. The coral island. And the fact that none of these show up on Google Map. The thrill of going off radar without leaving our planet. We had a lovely lunch on the sands.

Julian: You were in your Wicked Weasel?

Julia: As is my custom.

Julian: What was our son's reaction to your bikini?

Julia: I guess he must have found it intriguing. He was ascertaining his mum with scholarly interest. Sheepishly at first. Then, throwing caution to the sea wind. But, my yellow peril had an unexpected competitor.

Julian: Huh?

Julia: Pip had on, what he calls a euro-bikini. A continental style penis sheath-like male bikini bottom that masquerades shamelessly as a swimsuit. He said it is de rigueur on continental beaches. A cock sock that pretty much leaves nothing to the imagination.

Julian: What did you think of his euro-bikini?

Julia: Seeing that yours is the only manhood I have ever seen in the flesh, it was educational, to say the least.

Julian: The lad had a boner?

Julia: Looked like it. I think it is the combination of our minimalist wear, and the palpable frisson of the situation. The garment was stretched taut at the seams.

Julian: What's his endowment like?

Julia: He is clearly his father's son. And all fathers like to see their children do better than themselves, do they not?

Julian: You are a diplomat! I am cool with my son outgrowing me.

Julia: Pip then asked to photograph me in my bikini. He reminded me that he has a minor in photography in uni. So, I posed for him. You know, our son inherited your 'visual' genes.

Julian: So, he enjoyed the shoot?

Julia: Judging obliquely by his euro-bikini, yes. It grew a size. He enjoyed the shoot as much as I did. I am flattered that my young son has interest in photographing his dowager mum.

Julian: Any memorable poses?

Julia: Pip had many innovative posing, composition and perspective ideas from his uni photography course. It was a flurried blur for me. He instructed me on this and that, and was orbiting me, shooting me serially like a pro. Some of the compositions are not unlike the poses we used during our birthday/anniversary shoot. We can view Pip's pictures on our PC later if you wish. You can critique them.

Julian: Did you swim over to the coral island?

Julia: Errr... yes, after some deliberation...

Julian: Huh? What's there to deliberate?

Julia: Errr... It started with me telling Pip that it is my routine to swim there nude as I enjoy the primal feeling of abandon and freedom. But, since he is with me, I will swim in my bikini. Pip then insisted that I should not change my routine on his account. He intimated that he had so wanted an all-over tan, and this is his last opportunity to sun. I was conflicted. This brings us to a whole new level of terroir. Pip rationalised that we be a nudist family for a day. Long story short, we swam nude. Pip looked away, while I got into the water. I started swimming. He joined me.

Julian: And you both stayed in the water the whole time once you reached the island?

Julia: To swim round the land-facing rocky shore, to the ocean-facing beach, we have to skirt a patch of sharp rocks and corals. We decided not to risk it, especially since we are unprotected, exposed to the marine elements.

Julian: So, you landed on the rocky side?

Julia: We did. Self-evidently, there were moments of anxiety when we first saw each other naked. As you would expect from a healthy young lad, Pip was in a state of extreme exuberance. I thought it would wear off after a while. It heightened instead.

Julian: And then?

Julia is about to meander onto the waterfall and the hidey-hole. Then, she thinks better, and bites her lip. Did Julian notice?

Julia (tentatively): I'm not sure if I should I go on... this is awkward...

Julian: Skinny dipping is commonplace. And the lad was obviously in distress because of it. It is nobody's fault if the view of his mum caused it.

Julia: Those were my thoughts then too. And this is the point where we test our openness and trust between you and me as we never have before.

Julian: Our openness and trust are always a given.

Julia: I so wanted to help Pip get his relief. Whichever way we rationalise this, I am still the source of his trauma. Of course, Pip can be relieved in a number of ways. There are options, and they are all not unpleasant. Pip can relieve himself. The visual stimulation is there, and can even be heightened. And if I can be so forward here, I can administer the relief in a number of ways with varying levels of engagement. But, the honest truth is I needed relief more so than Pip. There! I said it! I can attribute it to, or blame it on, a number of factors. My first sexual engagement besides my husband. The surreal lure of the taboo. The appeal of a young stud. An imposing piece of manhood flourish in my face. The frisson of the moment. The ambience of the private beach. All that photography tease in the last few days. A raging perfect storm.

Julian: How was it?

Julia: Intense. And I told Pip that it is strictly a one-off. And that it never happened.

Julia observing Julian.

Julia: You are making me nervous. Are you alright?

Julian: Mum, just one more time?

Julia: Oh God! One husband and two sons is two too many!

***

EPILOGUE

Fast forward.

A year on.

Somewhere in a marginal corner of this lonely planet.

Pip is backpacking as a travel writer. Today is his birthday.

Ping!

He has mail!

Ten attachments. He scrolls to the bottom.

"Mum's the word"

The End