Nora in the Sun

Chapter 5

I changed the next morning, and made every effort to keep from looking at myself in the mirror. Then I went down to breakfast, every waking moment making me feel dirtier than I ever had in my entire life. I especially couldn't bear to look at my right hand. Or the tissue box. You fucking pervert, I punished myself.

Dad seemed chipper, despite everything. "Did you know they've got four hundred real channels here? Real channels!" He seemed so surprised. "Whatever you want. Cowboy movies, sports shows, crime shows, even American news." Off to the side, a Mexican cooking channel played, and a pleasant rhythm of words poured out of a couple hosts mouths as they dished up tortas. The sound blended with a gentle rhythm of the waves outside.

"I'm halfway certain American news broadcasts everywhere," replied mom, dishing up some eggs. She seemed calmer, too. A new day. Another shot at a family vacation.

She was in a bathrobe, a silky white one that accentuated her hips with a thin tie around her waist. She leaned to the side as she put a couple eggs on my plate, and it took every ounce of remorse and self control I had to keep from looking down her chest again. Her breasts looked so round and perfect under the silk.

I couldn't believe I had seen in her in this as a teen and didn't realize what I had in front of me.

Though I could have guessed. Sleepovers with friends always included jeers from them that my mom was a total MILF, jokes that I always returned with a heavy and defensive punch. I bit the inside of my cheek, trying to hold on to the normalcy.

But mom looked especially gorgeous today. The sun was rising over the ocean, filling our villa with a host of soft reds and yellows. Her skin was positively glowing with an otherworldly beauty. I realized as I admired the curve of her back as it jutted out around her ass that I was salivating. I shook myself out of it and tried to focus on my plate as she passed by with a couple slices of fresh toast and a bowl of fresh salsa. The aroma of the bread and eggs rose with a fresh breath of cilantro.

My stomach roared... as did my mind, desperate for another breath of her.

She's not wearing much under the robe. She probably has a scent to her. Not like clean shampoo. Not like laundry. A musk. A scent. She probably has a scent like a woman. I squinted my eyes to keep my vision to my plate.

The guilt, thankfully, overwhelmed me. I made a new resolution. All this ridiculous thinking about my mom was over. Done. Now.

I was going to relax, have a nice vacation, and get the wifi going so I could find something normal to jack off to instead. Girls my own age. There was unbelievable amounts of porn out there, right? Or I could go into Chetumal, find an expat or a local for a fling, right? Something normal.

"I'm dying for the beach," mom interrupted my train of thought excitedly. Her tone told me that she had forgotten about the argument she had with dad last night. "I haven't gotten a tan in... forever."

"A tan sounds great," I jumped in. "But maybe I'll check out the city." Anything to keep it as family friendly as possible. Though my mind of course, entirely against my will, took off with the thought of mom tanning. Lying in the sun. She wouldn't be wearing much. Her flesh would shine, slick with oil. She'd lay there on the beach, her soft skin beautifully exposed, where anyone passing could see her. My gorgeous, gorgeous mother.

Mom continued, "I read some of the notes our host left for us. The tanning oil here is complimentary. I could tan on the beach, but there's also our patio. I think we could do dinner on it, later, but until then, it's also got those sunning chairs that I could use..."

Dad snickered at mom. "Oh baby, maybe keep it inside? Nobody wants to see baby beluga." The instant his words went out, I could see his eyes widen with the realization that what he said was a huge mistake. "Oh, Nora, I didn't - I mean, not like a whale, you're just so pale..."

Mom's spatula smashed against the counter with a crack. The plastic was broken. Pieces of egg fell to the floor.

Silence thundered in the kitchen. The only sound left was the sound of Mexican cooking show hosts cackling about how delicious their food was. Mom's hands shook. Her lower lip trembled. Her chin was up, defiant, furious, angry. Dad looked around in shame.

"Not like a whale, huh?" Mom challenged. I felt like sneaking out the front door, but I was practically between them.

"Oh, come on, Nora."

"Wow, look at those colors outside," I looked out there, trying desperately to change the subject and salvage the moment. It wasn't working.

Mom continued, her voice shaking in rage, her soft words breaking in frustration, "I have worked, so, so hard to make this vacation happen, and you can't lay off about how I look for one day," she started to tear up.

Dad jumped up. "Look, hun, I'm not saying you're fat. You're just..."

What was left of the spatula flew past his head.

"GET OUT." Mom grabbed the frying pan next. Dad jumped up, cursing.

"Goddamn, woman," he seethed. "For one fucking day, you can't stop from being so fucking sensitive, huh?" The pan flew into the living room next, smashing against the wooden television stand. The Mexican food hosts rocked back and forth. Dad rushed out. "ALRIGHT!" He moved like a blur toward the front door. "Enjoy your fucking tan, Nora! Sorry you can't take a fucking joke!"

The door slammed. He was gone.

Mom's chest heaved. Her face was red, her eyes darkening with tears. I got up to see if I could comfort her, but her hand went up and she lightly pushed against my chest. "Just..." her voice broke.

"Just go out for a while," she whispered, "alright Brett?" Mom looked up at me. I could see she was trying desperately not to cry.

"...Alright." I got up, collecting my sunglasses and wallet as I reached the front door.

"Go see some sights," mom called out from the living room. I could tell she was crying. "Maybe we'll go to the beach a little later, alright? It'll be a good time. We'll make this a good time." Her voice trailed off.

I felt a horrible sinking feeling, crushing my chest. "...Yeah, mom." I turned back to say goodbye and saw her on all fours, picking up the mess in the living room.

She looked so beautiful, so tragic, her hair loosely brushing against the floor, her soft hands picking up pieces of the food and décor that lay scattered around the room. The silk robe she wore glimmered in the light of the sunrise, as did her skin, the soft, pale arch of her neck turning in the aura, her teats falling forward, rocking back and forth under her robe as she cleaned. She was ethereal in her beauty. Her legs revealed themselves a little more as her robe hiked up, revealing a firm, creamy curve.

I turned before I could see more.

I could go to town. I could spend some time there. I could get some culture, see sights, walk the beach.

But what I wanted more than anything in that moment was to hold her, and to tell her she was like a goddess.

That she was the most beautiful woman in the world.

...

Chapter 6

I came back an hour later, equipped with a powerful discovery thanks to a helpful tip I picked up from some traveling boards. All you need to do is go up to the locals and see if they've got any special places they'd be willing to show you. Flash some money, double or triple digit denominations. They'll show you something world class, every single time.

Thanks to that tip, I stood on a beach just a few minutes to the south, accessible through a carefully hidden footpath through the palm forest. Mom was going to love it.

It really was perfectly hidden -- for some reason, there were no signs that led there, and the footpath was the only clue that hinted that there was anything at all to see. But the winding trail along the palm-covered hillside opened up into a sheltered little beach, barely a few hundred feet wide. There were no footprints. There was no sign that anyone had been there. It was a secluded little patch of paradise, a true secret of the locals, a gorgeous gem, waiting for me and my family. At least, if dad could shape up.

The thought of sharing this private beach with her was a relief. At least I had something I could show her that was really, really beautiful, something she wouldn't have seen if she just let dad take the reins.

The sand was impossibly fine, softer than fleece, whiter than snow, with a dainty palm forest on a hill surrounded it. The local said some other words to me. Secret. Agua. Falling. I grinned to myself, wondering if there really was some kind of waterfall in there. This place was going to be the saving grace of this trip, I decided.

I practically ran back.

I opened the front door and yelled for my parents. I heard the patio door opening. Mom emerged from the patio. Pale. Mystical. A thin cotton shawl, wrapped partially around her waist, only halfway covered her red bikini bottom. Her legs peeked out, the entire length of her right thigh completely bare. I bit my lip and coughed, trying to smile and keep my eyes above her waist. But the red bikini she wore made my stomach do flips. The fabric was so... thin. I could almost see the shape of her areolas lightly pushing through.

"Hey," I said, trying to keep cool. Like she was a girl I met at a party.

"Hey yourself," smiled mom softly, wrapping a beach robe around her, sealing away all the glorious white of her skin. "You caught me right as I was about to get started on my tan. You want to join?"

"I found a great place for that, actually." I said, trying to keep from imagining her laid out on the hidden beach, her pale skin soaking up the sun... and tanning oil. "Where's dad?"

"He's drunk by now," sighed mom, playing with her sun hat between her fingers. "He sent me a few pictures of the bars they have up north. They look like a lot of fun."

"I think you'd rather come with me," I encouraged her. "Come on. I found something pretty amazing. Wait here." I changed as fast as I possibly could in my room and then ran out. She waited for me just outside, a little smile on her face. She looked a little less sad.

But that was who Nora was. Always making the most of every situation. Strong. Ready to enjoy a new moment when it came. She picked up her hat with both hands, bravely, the one with a wide, wide brim. I took her hand and we walked out of the villa, arm in arm.

"Something pretty amazing, huh?" She smiled and teased me, her bag dangling by her side, the sun hat bringing a smooth shade over her neck and face. "What could it possibly be?"

We went around the corner and toward the stretch of palm forest that hid the foot path. I moved along, pushing aside leaves, letting the cool dark of the forest cover us, until the bright white of the beach ahead peeked into view. As we approached, I heard mom start to gasp. When the light adjusted, and when we finally emerged from the palms, mom started laughing excitedly.

"Oh my god, Brett!" Her smile was pearly, white teeth, her pink tongue moved gently as she gushed.

"I hear there's a little waterfall around here too," I added, hoping to see more of her joy. And I saw it. She looked at me, eyes sparkling. Her smile was so wide, so infectious. For a brief moment, I completely forgot about all the issues our family had. This moment was enough.

I was entranced. She looked around, back and forth. The soft sand moved between her feet. The waves were gorgeously blue, a deep aqua, the mild green of the palms dotting along. Mom lightly ran on ahead, toward the water, the shawl around her waist waving in the wind. The white of her legs flared in my vision, the immaculate smoothness shining in the light. "Oh, baby!" She shouted, her arms raised.

"This place is so incredible! Oh my god..." She turned and tried to take everything in. "The beach alone -- this is -- there's a waterfall?" She laughed. "We'll just do the beach today -- this place is already so..."

"Alright. We'll do the waterfall tomorrow." Her smile only grew. She ran ahead through the sand, her pale, little feet kicking rushes of it behind her.

She was happy.

That made me happy.

"I love you, mom," I said out loud. But not loud enough for her to hear it.

She turned back, the sun hat also seeming to flow in the breeze, and came up, took my arm. "Come on, muscles," she teased me, "let's get a tan!" She took the shawl off of her waist. It waved in the wind... and I saw the fullness of her ass beneath her bikini. I took a deep breath and started to realize the possibilities of what I could see.

We laid out in the sand, stretching just a few yards from each other. The wind blew, cool and calm. The surf roared. Mom sat back on her shawl and pulled out the lotion. She poured some into her hands, the liquid dripping down her white wrists, her hands moving quickly as she brought it to her chest and neck. The texture of her skin rippled in the light. I realized with all the sun that all that creamy whiteness would change in her tan. I didn't want it to. I wanted to see her pale, fragile skin, forever.

"I hope you don't burn," I finally said, struggling to get the words out. "You haven't gotten sun in a while."

"Aw. Sweet. But this is some really expensive stuff." Mom smiled at me, her thick sunglasses reflecting the sun at me. "I'll be thorough."

I laid back and tried to enjoy the moment. To feel the wind. To listen to the surf. To breathe. I kept seeing her move in my peripherals. She really was being thorough. The lotion came out, a clear bronze oil that melted along her fingers. She kept moving her hands, around her chest, up the delicate features of her face, along her neck. Reaching down to her legs. Between them. Up her thighs. Up and around her pelvis. The bikini elastic quietly snapped as she slid her fingers under it. I slowly turned my head.

Everything was changing in my mind. All the remorse and regret and shame I felt earlier, I didn't feel like really embracing it. She was so beautiful.

Her fingers moved gently, running beneath the elastic bands, spreading the tanning oil. To get everything, to make sure she didn't burn. To make sure every inch of skin that the sun could kiss was oiled, shining.

I felt my cock spring up. I jumped up faster, and took off toward the water, hoping to drown it in the coolness of the ocean, hoping she didn't notice. It worked, but just barely, and the saltiness and the rush of the sea wiped my mind clean. The water brought some sense back - maybe it was time to get back to that whole regret thing.

Mom was laughing along the beach, watching me. I splashed a few times for effect and lay back to float. The surf brought me up and down. "Don't you burn either, dear!" She called from the shore. Her voice pulled at me. I wanted to be close to her. I came back, walking slowly toward her as if drawn by a rope.

She lifted her head, serious. Her arms, her shoulders, her legs and calves glistened in the heat. "My back, baby," she asked, "Can you get it?" I felt something rising in my chest. It was anticipation.

You can touch her.

I tried to keep myself... calm. Or normal. Or something.

The secret desire moved through me as I knelt and picked up the tanning oil. She turned onto her back, her forearms in front of her, her round behind jiggled slightly as she nestled into position over the sand.

I took a deep breath. The oil felt cold. Surprisingly cold. Like a fresh spring.

I let it pool in my hands. It ran over as I maneuvered closer. The oil fell in crystalline droplets along her lower back, some landing on her ass, some gathering, pooling at the base of her curved behind. A string of the oil moved up her lower back, in series, dotting all in a row.

Like cum.

I had vivid flash backs to college. To fucking. To the girls at my dorm, their suppressed sex noises. My cock rose as I started blending the image of my mother, the drops along her back, and the memories of pulling out, spraying jizz over gasping girls and their lower backs, of hoping with everything I had that all of the pleasure didn't turn into pregnancy. My erection throbbed uncontrollably under my trunks.

The droplets on mom's back slowly dripped, down, along the indent of her spine. Along her waist. Flowing over her sides.

Like... cum.

I must have been staring at the droplets of tanning oil on mom's back for way too long. Mom cleared her throat, suddenly. I started upright.

She turned slightly, not quite looking at me, but I could see her frowning. "Brett? You alright, baby?" It's lucky she didn't turn any farther, to see what was going on with my pants.

"Fine," I said. "Sorry," I felt a deep surge of confidence. "You're just very..." The confidence stopped before I could say it. I wanted to say sexy. I wanted to say fuckable. I wanted to compare her to girls I had been with. I wanted her to know she looked incredible. I wanted to tell her something, anything that hinted at what my mind and cock were uncontrollably fiending for.

"You're just very sure about this oil," I tried moving in that direction instead. Like a coward. Or a sane person. It was hard to tell. "I get that it's expensive, but you're sure you won't burn?"

Mom snorted. Her ass gave a slight jiggle with her laugh. "Hurry up," her voice barely reached my ears. "I can't reach back there." My vision narrowed as I looked up her smooth, white back, to the red string that kept her breasts contained. The oil would go there. I'd make it happen. I'd press my fingers all along her.

"Can't reach where?" I croaked.

"Bra line. Come on. Chop chop." She laughed again. At least she was enjoying herself. Not that I wasn't, in a 'desperate internal struggle' sort of way.

I took a last deep breath and moved my hands down. I poured the handful of oil along the center of her back. Brought it up, letting it drip across her upper back, the soft muscles underneath creating little paths for the oil to drip. I opened my hands... and moved them to her.

Her skin was as I expected. Impossibly soft. Impossibly smooth. I pressed, deeply, it sinking in with the firm resistance of feminine love. Mom gave a little breath. "No time for a massage, dear, I'm burning up," her voice came a matter of factly. But there was something in it. Something concerned. Something wary. But the barrier my mind would have put up before was gone. I needed more.

"Yeah. Okay." I moved a little closer. I wanted her to say something for me. I wanted her to ask me to move my hands under the string of her bra. She needed to ask. I needed her to need me to ask. My mouth went dry as I tried it. My palms went up, along her shoulders, down to the center of her back, above her bra string. My hands lifted, and skipped the bra. I went down to the center of her back, and pressed down. Hard. Her flesh pressed down. This is the sensation my hands would have... if something more happened.

If you gripped her from behind.

I savored the feeling of my fingers pressing into the softness of her lower back.

"Under the bra string, baby" said mom, a mild tension in her voice. My heart pounded. It worked. She asked. But her back tensed. I had to move faster.

"Alright," I barely whispered. My thumbs went upward, pressing along the firm muscles that lined her spine. My fingers splayed out, carefully, toward the red line of her bra. It was like I could see microscopic details - I touched the fabric, the oil on my hand absorbed lightly into it.

I committed -- both of my hands went up at the same time, moving under the thin string that kept everything on her chest sealed away. I felt the string dragging along the back of my hands. I held them there for a second. Mom's breathing grew even more tense. Her head went down, the soft white of her neck suddenly revealing itself to the sun.