Son Waxes Mum

"Cole asked me to open my legs wider, and relax. He started with the zone at the top of my cleft. The most accessible and straightforward zone. He took one leaf from the pile of forest leaves. And then, he did something that completely surprised me. He parted my slit a little, then rubbed the surface of the leaf into my slit. It picked up my moisture. Somehow, Cole knew that I would be wet. He did this for awhile. New moisture was generated. The leaf released a tangy sweet scent, and a faint hint of mint, which I cannot identify precisely."

Julia thinks for a bit.

"Cole put the leaf to his nose. He said it is rendered just right. He thanked me for my collaboration. He rubbed the leaf against my mound, the zone above my cleft, methodically. He said that this prepped my skin. I felt a delightful soothing cool. Cole disposed the leaf. He patted my mound and declared that I was primed."

Julia pauses.

"Go on..."

"Cole stretched my skin, then applied the soft wax in the direction of the hair. The thicker the hair, the more the wax. After awhile, when the wax had presumably set, he pressed a strip down on the wax. His held down the strip evenly to press my skin. Then, he ripped off the strip against the direction of the hair growth. I was expecting discomfort, or fleeting ripping pain. But, I felt nothing. Curiously, nothing at all."

Julia is about to continue her account, and then bites her lip.

Julian sees this through the corner of his eye, but he says nothing. She just looks at him a little nervously and can't say it. He is truly intrigued, and a little excited at what she is struggling with.

What Julia didn't say is that she then felt tender flesh on the waxed area. She peered down. Cole was rubbing his penis head on her raw skin. His soothing motion was aided by his granules of excitement. It felt strange and transcending, although she could not place it precisely. It was like you were expecting something painful, like an injection or incision, and when it happened, you experienced pleasure. Pleasantly counterintuitive. Surreal. She immediately looked forward to the next waxing iteration. But, her son's soothing motion was so good too.

Sensing that Julia is in a kind of dizzy dancing daze, he nudges, "Go on."

"Cole went on to do the left, then the right, of the first waxing zone, in much the same way. Rendering the leaf. Priming the zone with the leaf rub. Applying the waxing. Stripping the wax. Soothing the skin."

Julian curiously, "Soothing the skin?"

"Oh, I didn't mention that earlier?"

"No"

"I thought you knew. It's standard practice for the waxer to press down his palm on the waxed area immediately after ripping off the strip."

"But, you said you felt nothing after the strip was ripped off?"

"Just the customary instinctive thing for the waxer to do. Know that the waxer has no way of knowing whether the person is feeling any discomfort or pain. I guess this relieving action gives the person a psychological reassuring feeling, regardless of whether or not there is discomfort or pain."

"So, that's three of five zones done. What next?"

"Cole moved on to the left side of my cleft. He commented that my minimalist femininity, bereft of outer labia, makes waxing that much easier."

Julian runs his hand on her mound as if verifying Cole's observation.

Julia is conflicted on whether to say more. She sees the hungry gleam in Julian's eye.

"Our son ran his finger along my slit, turned it up a bit, just to be sure that there were no lurking hair strands. He started on the length of my left lip. Gave it another once over again just to be sure. He was pedantic. Then, he repeated the same on my right lip."

Julia decides to hold back on the rest. By the time Cole started on her right lip, she was quite wet with arousal.

"Cole proceeded to wax my mound on the left side of my slit. He told me that he'll be using hard wax hereon. He took care to apply the wax evenly in thickness so that when it is set, and ripped off, there would be no cracks. There was no strip for hard wax. He ripped the hard wax from bottom to top."

"Was there any discomfort or pain with the hard wax?"

"No. Hard wax does not adhere to the skin as much as strip soft wax does. Finer hairs are more easily removed because the hard wax encapsulates the hair as it hardens."

Again, Julia was silent on Cole soothing her mound with his most tender flesh.

"Cole proceeded to wax my mound on the right side of my slit the same way."

Julia omitted to say that Cole soothed her mound as usual. And then, he surprised Julia yet again. He ran his head along her slit, as it was a bit raw after the waxing.

"Cole then straightened my legs flat on the lounger cushion. He held my ankles and raised my closed legs. He placed a bolster under my buttocks."

Julia pauses.

"Cole held up my legs exposing my pussy and anus. He examined me intimately to determine the directions of my hair growth, and demarcate the waxing zones."

"Go on..."

"Cole applied strip soft wax on the oblique sides adjacent to my anus."

Julia pauses.

"That part done, Cole stretched my skin, and applied hard wax from near the bottom of my slit to one side of my anus. After the wax had set, he ripped the wax from top to bottom. I felt no discomfort."

Julia pauses.

"Finally, Cole pulled my arse cheeks to stretch my skin, and applied hard wax to the area below my anus. When the wax set, he ripped it off from bottom to top. Cole cleaned off all the little remnant wax bits. He then took a leaf from the pile, rendered it the usual way, and rubbed it all over to soothe my skin a final time. It felt good."

"So, you felt no discomfort at all?"

"No"

What Julia didn't say is that she wanted the procedure to carry on. She felt a connection with her son that was easy to identify, but hard to define precisely.

"Cole lowered my feet back down to the lounger cushion. He opened my legs. He inspected his work visually and physically, as though challenging himself to find a remnant renegade strand of pubic hair. Finally, he stood back for a minute, like an art critic in a gallery, and put his hands on his hips."

Julian emits a male sigh.

"Satisfied, he closed my legs. He looked at me this angle and that checking out the aesthetics and optics. Cole is an artist."

"And?"

"Cole carried me in his arms. I thought he was going to lower me to the ground. He tossed me into the rockpool. He said that the water would soothe my skin. After immersing for awhile, he led me to the waterfall curtain. The falling water massaged my raw skin. It was sheer bliss."

What is unsaid is that Cole led his mum behind the waterfall curtain.

There was a cave, a playful hidey-hole, behind the waterfall curtain. Its cool ambience was in sharp contrast to the glorious sunlit warmth outside. The floor was wet underfoot. 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 was a world unto itself.

Mum and son sat and leaned against the back of the hidey-hole, thigh-to-thigh, next to each other. Cole's and Antônia's hidey-hole. Cole's hidey-hole. And now, their hidey-hole.

In the thundering silence, they were observing what was around them, and eventually looked back at each other.

It was weird. It was like their time together was just theirs. Their own creation. It was like she was in his dream, and he, hers. They immersed in an aura that was a hazy unity of fantasy and reality. Their time here was completely out of time. Time. Space it out. Make it last.

Realising that they were now committed to one another in some strange way, there was an awkward silence.

Cole looked at Julia. In the dark of the hidey-hole, and the backlit radiance of the water curtain, she presented a surreal vision of loveliness.

Julia whispered in Cole's ear, "Excuse me a sec. I need to do something."

Cole was intrigued. What? He loved his mum when she was full of surprises.

Julia crawled catlike toward the thundering waterfall curtain, very slowly, as if she was afraid she might slip on the wet cave floor.

Cole watched his mother stalk stealthily away from him, like a new breed of cat, her marching buttocks quivering. Was she putting up a show for him?

She knelt down, a few feet in front of him, facing the roaring falling water, her buttocks to him. She was dead still as if she was willing something. What now? An ancient water worship ritual?

He felt a deep urge to rush forth, kneel behind his mother, and mount her as if he was a stallion in heat. But he didn't by some superhuman will of denial he didn't know he possessed.

What was that Schopenhaeur said about free will? You can choose whatever you desire, but sorry, you are not free to choose your desires. Your desires choose you.

Just as well he didn't because in the next instant, he heard a sharp feminine hiss. It sounded secret. Only to be heard by the very privileged.

Then, golden straw yellow jetting down powerfully from between the moons of her buttocks. The light from outside the cave played on her yellow stream, reflecting and deflecting. She was peeing liquid gold.

She went on like, forever. How could there be so much pee in one mother? He didn't mind so much though because it was a scenic view. It was not everyday that a son got to see his mother pee, albeit this was a nuanced rear view, which heightened the charm.

Cole felt a quick rush of electricity. It made him want to pee as well. A tightening sensation. But, he realised that it was not pee that he wanted to do, but something else more releasing.

She finished with a bidet flush of waterfall, looking like she relished the cold flush after the hot pee. Like a crazed Finn bolting out of the sauna, leaping into the wintry river. It was that kind of a sensation.

***

Julia crawled back to Cole, trying not to jiggle her hanging breasts too lewdly, and returned to her position of sitting and leaning against the back of the cave, thigh-to-thigh, to Cole. He can smell the waterfall on her.

After awhile, Cole saw his mother had moved some. She was sprawled on the cave floor languidly, halfway between lying on her back and her side, still against the back of the cave. He laid down against her. He felt her breasts pressed against his back, and then her arm as it enfolded him. She raked her fingers through his hair. Murmured into his hair. When she moved her hand around, she accidentally touched his cock.

"That thing doesn't go down often, does it?"

Smiling, "Well, it does when you're not around completely naked."

"Shameless flatterer," she snorted.

"Are you serious? You think I'm always hard like this?"

"Well, you're young and your mind is probably full of naughty ideas!"

"Yes, but that's not enough to give me permanent erections. You do know that I can't control that, like at all?"

Pensively, "What do you think of your old mum?"

"Old?"

"Sixty is. Every woman is responsible for her body. A woman's body tells the truth about her. The body a woman acquires is the result of the choices she has made, and the experiences that followed from those choices."

"You've made all the right choices. You're a sight to behold. You look nine months every year your age."

"Hmmm... looks like I raised an inveterate liar for a son. But, do carry on."

Chuckles.

"One word?"

"Comely"

"Me or you?"

She felt flowers blooming in her chest.

"Mum, it is the body you've earned, and its raw beauty is in the fully lived life it expresses."

"Hmmm... not only a liar, but a poet as well."

The back of the hidey-hole was cold as damp rock would be. Julia was feeling the cold of the cave wall. She changed her position seeking what warmth she could find. She sat in front of Cole. Julia paused momentarily as if serving Cole notice of her next move. She reclined gently. After a minute of snuggling down to fuzzy comfort, relishing the home and hearth warmth of his form, she cocked her head to look at him coyly, and then twinkled a kittenish, unmotherly knowing smile.

"Is there a name to this waterfall?"

"Pristine Falls"

Mildly amused, "Hmmm... did you just make up the name?"

Julia felt that she was in the still centre of a whirlwind. The waterfall was roaring, but it seemed distant and faint, as though they are behind glass.

She felt a perfect peace, that perfect calm. She felt a ridiculous happiness. She could stay in this cave forever, and participate in the world from here. How to live the best possible life, especially considering that we have only one of them? Not a bad question.

She saw some animated shadows on the cave wall. Is this Plato's cave? A reality unto itself?

They watched Pristine Falls fall.

***

Julia looks at Julian. He is in agony.

"You're in a state. Let me finish you off."

"I want something different."

"Oh?"

"I want to hump your pristine, smooth mound."

Julia a tad disappointed, "You would prefer a dry hump over more penetrative engagement? That is so economical."

Sheepishly, "Yes"

Julia observing, "Un bon repas doit commencer par la faim".

"Huh?"

"A good meal starts with hunger."

"I'm raring to tuck in."

In a kind of hypnotic trance, Julian guides Julia to the wall. He presses her back hard against the bedroom sandstone wall almost bruising her. He extends her arms horizontally in a crucifixion configuration. His hands pin down her palms to lock her down. She is nailed! Is this some divine symbolism?

He nuzzles his rock-grade hard shaft at the moist confluence of her lower mound and upper thighs in a sawing dry hump motion. As she tightens her clenched thighs, Julian intensifies his pistoning motion to breach the seal.

Oooh! The grind of his head against her smooth, pliant mound flesh feels so good! Tender on tender. And yet, savage. So very good!

He moans and then stops himself, "Oh mmmm... mum"

Animistic pagan growls and howls. Can the neighbours hear them? His perseverance pays off. He gets in, by dint of forceful persistence.

Julian closes his eyes. He sees a single blob of violent colour. As does Julia.

Oh yes, the climax is over, Julian knows that. But, it is not over, not until he feels it. It is not over until it stops pleasing. And he is pleased now. He needs to get over the pleasure. A strange thing to think.

Julia smiles beatifically like a Virgin in a Sunday School colouring book.

As Julian climbs down, he nuzzles, then kisses Julia, to thank her for making the moment possible.

Julia looks back at Julian with a smile of gratitude far more than is called for.

They stretch out on the bed. In the quietude of afterglow, they talk, cuddle a little. She plays with the hair on his chest. He doodles on her mound. His finger traces her contour of breast. A fleshy swell of rise, an icing stage of denser and darker flesh, a summit eruption of nub.

***

Chapter 4: Unfinished Business

Fast forward.

Five thousand miles away. A motherly cellphone chime tone emanates from Cole's trousers. He feels the vibration in his loins.

A message, "In town? Lunch sometime?"

"Bangkok. Le Coq, Fri, 1230?"

"Be serious!"

"Le Coq, 1 Flagstaff Rise"

"Mmmm... Lovely!"

"Mums the word."

Julia rereads the message thread. She feels a tingle of anticipation, although of what exactly, she can't tell. She smiles. This is so Cole. The person who can most reliably delight her.

It's a little strange. She thinks of Cole more and more as her younger brother than as her son. Maybe it's because of his towering size relative to her. Maybe because his demeanour is so like the young Carl. Oh God, she so, so misses her Carl.

She thinks back to the blindfold game she once played with Carl on their treehouse, at the bottom of their garden. She was twelve, and he, ten. All the while, she was fearful of falling off the treehouse. And yet, she did not wish the game to end. And when at last she thought she fell, she did not. And here she is now, on a kind of cusp to something unknown, but frightfully exciting. A gentle kind of haunting.

For some inexplicable reason, her mind flits back, again, to another time when she was young. There was a cliff edge near her clifftop cottage home. One day, for no particular good reason, she decided to stand at the edge. After a time, still frozen at the cliff edge, she took out her handkerchief and blindfolded herself.

Julia thinks of Kierkegaard's "fear of falling". Anxiety, dread and angst are unfocused fear. When the person looks over the edge, she experiences a focused fear of falling. But at the same time, she feels a terrifying impulse to throw herself intentionally off the edge. That experience is anxiety or dread because of her complete freedom to choose to either throw herself off, or to stay put. The mere fact that she has the possibility and freedom to do something, even the most terrifying of possibilities, triggers immense feelings of dread. The dizziness of freedom.

***

Julian is on business travel away for a week. Julia has a collection of hours to spend. Cole is in-between assignments, a week, a window of idyll.

Julia flits from the hairdresser, to the nail salon, to the beauty parlour, like a wealthy, bored housewife. Then, she buys new underwear. She wants to be fresh and exciting. She stares at her immaculate fingernails. Splays out her pedicured toes. Runs her fingers through her hair, smooth all the way through, no split ends after the cut. She spends the rest of the day in a sort of emotional preparation. Her heart, giddy and excited.

***

"That was a lovely lunch. What next?"

"Sailing"

"To the cove and the rockpool?"

Cole reaches out a hand to touch his mum's cheek, moving a strand of hair back behind her ear, "We've unfinished business."

She just loves his attention to her detail.

"Unfinished business?"

***

At the rockpool.

"Mum, you do me, the same way I did you."

"What?"

"Antônia used to do me. The operating principles are the same. There's a symmetry to it all."

"But, you're built differently."

"Yes, but I'll be out of your way."

"Huh?"

"You'll see."

They frolic native in the rockpool. Cole swims the crisp five strokes to the far end, flips at the rock face, and then back. He moves like a gorgeous dolphin. Just the sight of this relaxes Julia for her task. This dolphin is smooth. She will be making it smoother.

Cole lies on the lounger cushion. He feels in and of the moment, so immersed in the here and now. And yet, he is reliving some delightful past of uncertain definition. His emotions in a wave.

He remembers his halcyon young days at the county fair, riding painted ponies that go up and down. He remembers his mum, pressing into him, holding him tight so that he doesn't fall off the carousel.

She inspects her son. This rush of detail makes her a little giddy at first. Only the second manhood in her linear life. And now, so up close and personal. But, she enjoys the lift. Her finger parses the trees from the forest as she zones him out for the waxing. The tower of sequoia is so imposing. Height, trunk, girth, canopy coverage, volume, mass and age. But, it doesn't get in the way of the forest.

He instructs, "Mum, take a leaf and render it as we did when I waxed you."

It takes Julia a full five seconds before she realises what she has to do. In an act of socially conditioned modesty which is not particularly logical under the circumstances, she turns away from Cole and renders the leaf.

Julia preps Cole. True to form, he gets out of the way for her to wax his every nook.

When Julia is done, she playfully gives Cole's still in flourish penis a smack, "Son, you've been most collaborative. Thank you."