“You don’t mind me going on, do you, love?”, she asked.
The first depth charges had already been released. In for a penny, in for a pound. After all, she’d done my nappies and potty for a while, hadn’t she? I flushed.
She showered off her legs and then went on to her armpits. I kept sitting on the can. It’s one thing to poo in front of someone else, but wiping is so intimate, isn’t it? Having done her armpits to her satisfaction, Mum pulled on her pubes. I hadn’t seen them in ages, a few sprigs and stubs if you looked really close at her crotch in her bikini, sure, but never the full bush.
She had kept them trimmed as I did actually, a rectangle of about three fingers across, last tended to the night before I got on the plane to Greece. I checked mine. It wasn’t getting straggly or tufty or anything, but a little more length and extra stubble there was.
“What do you think of going really bare?”, asked Mum.
“I wouldn’t want to look like a little girl,” I said.
“No, you’re right. And I don’t want any ants in my pants for the rest of the trip. Still, I do have more than some and I’d like to be presentable…”
Her bikini line wasn’t as white as mine, that was for sure, but it was still not quite as chestnut brown as the rest of her. She’d had three more days in the nude than I had. Her dark brown pelt was frizzing out a bit, and like me, she had a few hairs just peeping out, at the junction of twat and thigh. She came out of the shower and walked over to the shelf above the sink where the three tubes of shaving foam were. She grabbed Dad’s and came back over to me.
“Hold your hand out, love.” She squeezed some foam onto my fingers, before putting two fingers over the middle of her vagina. “Put the foam either side,” said Mum, “spread it down all the way, yes, just a little bit under and around too.”
I spread the shaving foam on Mum’s puss with my fingers, used the side of my thumb to go down and around towards her bum. I could feel every prickle of hair on her skin.
“All done? Now, the hard part I think.” Mum handed me her razor. “Can you?” I guess I’d have to. “Here, let me make it easier, love.” She put her right foot on my left thigh, her pussy was centimetres from my face. Her outer lips were outies too. Like mother, like daughter. Deep breath. Hand as steady as possible. I shaved down the left side of her pussy, the outer side of the razor flush with her fingers. Mum then then widened her stance so that the undercurve became accessible, “this is the bit you really need to do well, love,” she said. My vision was filled with her vagina, I didn’t want her to have any nicks. I focussed. In among the holding of my breath I could smell her almost minty soap, feel the heat rising off her body towards me.
It was the same for the other side. It took no more than two minutes all told probably, and after Mum had rinsed off, (I still hadn’t left the toilet bowl), she came up to me again. “Have a feel. What do you think?” She felt smooth either side of her thin layer of fur. She felt good. “And not a nick or a cut anywhere. Thank you, love. ” She knelt down to give me a kiss on the side of the mouth, “I can do you later if you want.” I felt as gobsmacked as I had ever been. My hands mightn’t have been shaking, but the rest of me was.
“I met an Austrian woman yesterday who said the ancient Greeks would tweeze out each hair one by one, she even does it herself, she says, I can’t begin to imagine how much that would hurt, can you?” Mum was shimmying some moisturiser over her body when —
Dad came in. In my rush I had left the door unlocked — he beat a hasty retreat. Mum laughed. I felt my face going red.
Mum put on her short robe and left me. It had been quite the five minutes. I cleaned myself up, jumped in the shower for a minute, leaving my hair for later, and saw Dad waiting outside the door.
Walking away I wondered whether Mum ever would, or whether he himself, trimmed his pubes. I had seen a bit of ‘manscaping’ among the gay men at the beach. It was nice, I liked pubes though. And I liked cock as much as any gay man.
We had just three days to go. Shah and I tried another beach the other side of the church at Potomakia, which also had a nude section for us to enjoy. Most of the people there were Greek, or German, older than us but there were also quite a few families with kids and some teenagers whose daringness I admired. You could always tell who the teens were from a distance, they were always the bushiest. A few of the blondes had matching collars and cuffs, some didn’t. I noticed how my white bits had browned up, the rest of my tan had darkened. I was practically as brown as Shah was back in London, the lighter skin under his watch strap showing how much he too had tanned while in Greece. No sign of Mum and Dad or Chris all day.
In fact we didn’t see either of them that evening either, I was a little worried when it came to Chris, but I could see he’d been back for a change of clothes and, given the emptied Nutella and baguette crumbs all over the table, had taken an early supper too. I guess he’d found some new friends, maybe even a girl or two to spend some time with. Good for him.
We’d been dancing, stoked to a hormonal rush. There had been too many people around and about the club to fuck up against a wall. The short scooter ride back couldn’t end soon enough. We went to our bedroom, took off our clothes and did the hot and sweaty fuck thing. I love sweaty sex, it’s so real, you can smell the whole day and the whole person, really know them truly, how they wash, how their own scent mixes with store-bought fragrances, how they really are. Plus, it’s a great lube for skin on skin, isn’t it?
In a hot room lit just by distant streetlight through the open window, cooled by a stand-fan, Shah fucked me from behind first, my face deep in the pillow. Silent and savage, it was just fucking. I pushed back as hard as he pumped forward. The squelch of pussy on cock was thrilling. He flipped me over to missionary, alternating his kisses and nuzzles of my ears and throat with long, deep sucks on my tits as he kept moving in and out of me. I came early, laughing with the joy of it all, shuddering until the last wave of my orgasm left me. Shah’s face dripped sweat onto me. “You’re mine,” he said. I was. I pulled his head down and kissed him tenderly. “My love, yours.”
I nudged him up so that he straddled my chest. My breasts at that time weren’t really classically tit-fuckable but I still knew that it was something men liked. I pushed them as close together as I could and let Shah’s cock slide up and into my mouth. His wasn’t a monster-cock by the way, it was 5 and a half inches, and for me it was just right. I wanted him fully in my mouth, and pushed his bum even further forward. Sweat, cum and cunt-juice is what he tasted of and I wanted to taste more of his cum. I swirled his cockhead with my tongue, tickling the tip and the underside. I’m a great believer in edging, prolongs pleasure and keeps them hard and where I want them. Plus, pleasure delayed is pleasure magnified, isn’t it?