Chapter 9
I woke up the next day, my mind hazy, the sun glowing through my bedroom window. My mind spun with the thought of the gorgeous nude treasure my mother had hidden from me for all this time. The thought of her made my cock ache again.
Last night, I managed to get into my room without suffering a heart attack. And the pent up, unbelievable lust drove me to jerk myself off, and I came, seizing, jerking off to the thought of how she felt, how she looked, masturbating so hard that I came again, and again, and again, until I collapsed in bed in a mess of sweat and semen. Wild pictures danced before me - of her wet hair across the pale curve of her back, her open mouth, her dark eyes looking into mine... the soft feel of her bare skin, the plush push of her breast as she pressed past me, slick.
And then there was what I saw between her legs. The picture of that little, carefully trimmed triangle between her legs made my jaw ache. That hint of pink.
I stared up from my bed at the ceiling, as if I could somehow see through it. Up to her room. I wanted more.
I wanted to feel, much, much more.
The front door made a creaking noise. Dad was back. I heard him groaning.
"Partied all night?" Mom's voice came from the kitchen. I guess she somehow made it down without me hearing her. Dad returned with a half-drunk grunt. Mom didn't respond. I guess she gave up on communicating with him.
I dressed for another sunny day and went out, hoping things wouldn't be too awkward. Maybe with dad in the house, mom could brush this off. Not that I wanted her to. But my stomach sank when I saw her.
She wore a lot more than yesterday, her look more subdued. She didn't wear the slight robe that revealed her delicate legs. Instead, it was shorts that went down, and stopped mid thigh. On top, she had on another tank. A shawl draped over her shoulders. It was a tourist outfit. Conservative. It showed nothing that I wanted to see.
She made eye contact with me and held it. I nodded, trying to keep cool.
"Something interesting happened, last night," said mom out loud to dad, maintaining her eye contact with me. My face went cold as the blood drained from it. Dad groaned from the couch, and I stood stuck, like prey. "Do you want to hear it, Ross?" Her voice was freezing. Tense. Chilled like ice. Her eyes like an eagle. She looked over at dad, who didn't even bother with a response. "I guess not," she muttered. She looked back to me.
A plate of sliced fruit moved in front of me. Mom set some tortillas and eggs down, a salsa dish, never looking away, trying to intimidate me.
Obviously, last night was a blunder. I started to regret everything again, and tried to think of something to say. Something to apologize with.
I tried whispering, "Last night-"
Mom raised a finger and spoke at a normal level, knowing dad was completely incapable of listening, much less participating in the discussion. "Listen," her voice was definitive. Final. Firm. She laid down a series of royal declarations and edicts, each word like a hammer blow. "Last night was a strange, strange experience, weirder than our little adventure with the TSA. I don't know what the hell has gotten into you. You've been acting so, so strangely for the last few days." She glared at me disapprovingly before continuing. "But it's nothing so strange that we can't all just," she took a deep breath, her chest making a subtle movement under her tank top, "we can't all just get over it and move on. Way past it." She nodded, as if that was the end. "Alright?"
I nodded, as if there was anything else I could do. "...Alright."
It looked like all the fantasy and fun was over again.
"We do have several days left," said mom, returning to cooking and dropping the subject. She looked disappointedly over to dad. "I wanted to show your father that beach we looked at yesterday, but clearly, he's done for now. He'll probably be out cold until dinner." She shrugged. "So we'll have to plan out today without him."
"You mentioned a waterfall yesterday," she continued. "You know where this waterfall is, right?"
I realized I hadn't exactly found it. All I had was a hint from the local I paid yesterday. "I have a pretty good idea."
"Alright, kid," she said sternly. "Get your trunks on and lead the way."
We made it onto the beach -- this time, mom was in a black one piece that tied behind her neck. Long, broad strings went down, carrying the generous fabric that sealed her breasts away. The strings came down and broadened into a flat weave that covered her midriff. There was nothing seductive about it, nothing that hinted at her chest. Just thicker cloth, stretching over her breasts, even seeming to hide her form from view. The strings around her neck kept all that prisoner.
A bigger, broader shawl was wrapped completely around her waist, mostly covering her legs. Each step only revealed the thinnest white line of her leg, just a flash of color -- none of the curve I beheld completely last night.
Only her shoulders were exposed, for a moment, but she pulled on a second shawl, a light cloth that draped over her neck, covering even the strings that held the fabric around her breasts up.
Mom was definitely wary. And cautious. These new clothes were her protection. I felt certain -- she thought her son needed a firm reminder that she was his mother, and like it or not, he was going to look at her in a respectable way.
We got to the beach, and mom didn't waste any time. She sat on an additional towel she brought, pulled out the oil, and applied it to herself without even looking my way. There was no special area of her body that needed attention -- it was already covered by her clothes in advance. My disappointment, combined with sick guilt, ate at me.
I slapped some of the same oil on, anxious to do anything that could distract me, and raced into the surf, practicing a few different strokes through the gentle waves. The sun shone bright overhead as it crept into midday. Gulls made cries overhead. They circled and watched us, glinting brightly in the noon.
It didn't take long at all for me to get bored. I launched out of the surf and onto the beach, and figured I could find the waterfall. My intuition told me to look where there were changes in elevation. Sure enough, in the palm forest, the beginnings of the hills emerged. Water had to be there. Springs were fed by mountains, the slow release of water from the stone. If there was running water, enough for a waterfall, it would be there.
"I'll be back," I shouted toward mom, who sat up, watching me carefully, silently from her towel. She gave a low, slight wave in response.
The hill rose, the palm forest grew denser. Vines seemed to emerge from the soil and worked their way upward. Rocky walls rose, jutting from the sandy soil, the ground grew firm, changed its angles. The green grew more vibrant. These were my clues.
I almost passed it, but luck was with me and I noticed a slight gap. Behind a cliff face, where a tree and its vines mostly obscured the rock, was the narrow entrance to what the local told me about. Anyone else would have passed it. It was probably a miracle that the local found it in the first place. The vegetation on the jungle floor leading through the wall seemed undisturbed... like nobody had ever been there.
I passed through, and the temperature shifted. It was cool, darker, misty. A fine spray drifted through the air, a soft light filtered through a thick canopy of vines, of tropical trees, of dark, natural stone walls painted with moss. And through it all, the sound of falling water made itself audible. A small, crisp, white waterfall poured downward, sending ripples and bubbles into a clear, pure pool. I looked down into the impossibly translucent water. It had to be eight feet deep, a dozen feet wide, easily. It was a plunge basin, where a long, long history of erosion and gravity drove the pool floor deeper, and deeper, and deeper, the process taking hundreds of thousands of years.
And now, it was deep enough, broad enough to swim. A little stream drifted off the top of the pool, wandering out through the thick mass of trees and rocks.
This was the kind of discovery that I'm sure the Spaniards would have killed for. Forget gold. This was... a hidden paradise. A fountain of youth, if there ever was one.
It was very possible that a place like this could cheer mom up. It could excite her and help her forget how strange and awkward the last few days had been. At the least, maybe it would help her forget things, just for a moment. I decided that was worth it.
I jogged back to get mom, growing more excited to show her as I sped back.
When I made it back onto the beach, mom was laying on her stomach, her face hidden by the sun hat. Her long, long legs were uncovered in the sun. A lump rose in my throat as I saw the gorgeous, pale creamy flesh that rose up along her thighs, arching into her buttocks. The slight dip between her cheeks evoked the thought of her in the shower, the water rushing down her back, around the sides of her ass and between those lovely cheeks, streaming down the inside of those beautiful legs.
I didn't want to announce myself, but did, reluctantly. She turned to her side, reaching for her shawl, quickly using it to cover herself. She looked at me from behind the sunglasses. It was hard to read her. But there wasn't much time for hesitation, and I didn't want her mood to ruin how special and beautiful that spot was.
"Wanna see something incredible?" I gave a brave smile. Hopefully she'd like it. "I found the waterfall."
