I gunned the Porsche Carrera up the freeway out of Honolulu, past Pearl City and on towards mom's beautifully secluded home just past Waimea Bay.
Seated beside me, Sharon's dark hair streamed behind her, jet-black and gleaming in the strong tropical sun, her upper body bare save for a tiny little black PVC bikini top that attracted lots of stares from truckers and SUV drivers as we roared past them back on the busier part of the freeway.
My lovely little bikini model lover was wearing a pair of denim cut-away hot pants and high heels. It was all that I could do during the drive north to keep my hands away from her, the tempting little tart!
It had been four weeks since Karla, my still hugely attractive 50-year-old mom, had taken scores of photos of me and Sharon for her new series of paintings and now we were on the way to her North Shore beach home to enjoy a "sneak" preview.
"You don't need to bring bikinis," said Karla, "my pool is totally secluded, as you know, and I thought we'd go nude."
"Oh yes, and you'll be able to ogle my little darling, eh Karla?" I laughed, when we had spoken the day before.
"No way, Sharon and I will wear bikinis and we'll be keeping 'em on!" Fat chance, and I knew it, but what the hell, I thought I'd put up some token resistance.
I steered the Carrera into Karla's courtyard and as I did, the security gateway behind us swung across, making the property inaccessible. Mom values her privacy.
It was a lovely property, overlooking the fabulous and famous stretch of Oahu's surf coast, but the pool was surrounded by a high fence and at such a level that neighbours on each side could not pry on the area. Which was just as well!
Sharon and I walked into the house, and Karla greeted us with warm hugs. They had to be warm because she had obviously been lying out in the sun, her naked upper body was smelling of coconut oil, her 40-inch breasts swinging lush and free, her nipples huge, her areolae stunning.
Sharon, I noted, rubbed her equally stunning 36-inch PVC-covered breasts against mom's with obvious relish! Karla's pussy region was covered by a tiny little red g-string, which contrasted erotically with her chocolate brown skin.
"Thank heavens you're here," said Karla, "it means we can crack open a bottle of Dom." From her hugely spacious and hugely expensive kitchen area, she fetched a bottle of Dom Perignon and produced three flutes.
After pouring, Karla clinked glasses with Sharon and me and announced: "Here's to a successful preview and a good sale!"
We drank, then Karla said: "Into your bikinis, ladies and we'll go see the paintings." Sharon stepped out of her cut offs in a flash, revealing a matching PVC thong, which gleamed over her lovely prominent pudenda.
I pulled off my T-shirt and shorts to display my 38-inchers covered by a snazzy little white bikini top, which went superbly with the chocolate skin I'd inherited from mom. Matching briefs, thong-style completed my outfit. We'd both kicked off our high heels at the door.
Mom then led the way into her display studio, where three canvasses, draped by large white sheets, stood in the center of the room. Karla walked to the first and whipped the sheet from it. Sharon gasped!
The picture was trademark mom! It stood as high as those which Sharon had seen back at my place, but since the subjects were two women, not one, they were a foot or more wider. Again, the subjects were in vivid colours, the backdrop totally white to enhance the effect made by the coloured models.
Sharon gazed at herself in the painting, standing beside me, her little red harem bra and harem pants, revealing her nipples and pussy. She looked docile, devoted and delicious, her lovely face turned to mine, regarding me with sweet submission.
I looked pretty darned dominating, too! I was clad in a black leather quarter-cup bra and my 38-inch breasts stood up firm and roundly inviting, the nipples as hard as ebony. I was leaning my elbow on Sharon's shoulder, but ignoring her gaze, staring with a "Don't dare fuck with me" look, straight out of the canvas.
My pussy was bare, the parts where my razor had shaved back my bristly dark hair leaving a darker hue to my skin. My piss flaps were plainly on view, and my shining black leather boots, which gleamed half-way up my thighs, added an air of domination to my clothing.
This was added to by the cruel leather lash I was holding in my right hand, its tip touching the floor, giving it a slight bend.
"Where's my Muir cap?" I asked Karla, noting that she had omitted the little leather military cap I had worn in the photos she'd taken.
"I thought you looked menacing enough without it," she replied.
I could see her point, I cut a pretty formidable figure!
"Does it have a title?" Sharon asked, in admiration.
"This one I call 'Domme and sweety', which I think sums you both up," said Karla.
Then she threw back the sheeting from the middle picture, again producing a little gasp from my darling.