The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Jasmine laid out on the chaise longue, feeling the sun beating down on the deep bronze of her skin. There was a full suite of tanning beds inside the spa, but the rare break in the Pacific Northwest cloud cover meant that she had to take full advantage of it while she could. Thick, raven mane fanned out behind her head in like shimmering black silk, she adjusted her oversized tortoiseshell sunglasses, and closed her eyes.

The curvaceous MILF could feel the sweat beginning to bead on her skin as she raised her arms above her head and stretched, back arching off the chaise. Her breasts swelled and pressed tightly against the bright melon halter-top of her bikini in a tide of smooth flesh as she did, pinky-thick nipples still slightly swollen from this morning’s activities. A drop of moisture rolled through the cavernous cleavage created by the bikini and under the band, sliding down across her sternum and over the soft, smooth plateau of her stomach to the well of her navel, adorned with a tiny blue jewel set in a silver ring.

Wiggling her behind down into the stretchy fabric of the chaise, she let one hand wander down across the slight mound below her navel, fingernails tickling along deep brown skin until they skimmed across the top of her bikini bottoms. The blue rhinestones set in her manicure winkled in the sunlight for a moment, then vanished inside the taut lycra. Her ripe thighs drifted apart as her fingertips slid in between the plush pillows of her vulva, pubic hair crinkling under her palm while her index finger gently slid up and down her weeping slit.

“Can I get you anything?” A tall shadow loomed overhead.

Jasmine opened one eye and let her gaze wander up his hairless stomach, and across smooth, caramel-colored abs to a set of firm pectoral muscles. The speaker stood at attention, arms at his sides, while he awaited a response. Her eyes wandered back down to his tightly-packed black speedos, and she let her index finger lazily circle her clitoris as it began to swell up. Jasmine bit her lip as she watched a thick black tube slowly inflate in his briefs, wandering crazily to the left along the crease of his thigh.

“First,” she said, “go and get me a margarita.” One of her sky-high espadrilles hit the tiled pool deck as her legs spread even wider. “Second, you can get between your mum’s legs and fuck her silly.”

[SOME TIME PREVIOUSLY]

“Oooh, Henry, look at that pool!” Jasmine dropped her bag and grabbed onto his arm in her excitement, pointing inside the door.

A natural pool some thirty feet long and ten across was sunk deeply into the floor of the spa. Open to the sky and surrounded by a wealth of greenery, the room was clouded with steam rising from the pool. The water itself, however, was pink as a strawberry smoothie, and gently churning from below.

“Yeah, I can see, mom.” Henry rolled his eyes like only a jaded college junior could. The woman who’d opened the door shot him a hard look.

“We call that the Heartspring, hon.” Ronnie gently closed the door. “A natural hotspring welling up from island, it’s the heart of Jocasta’s Playground.”

“But it’s pink! Why is it pink?” Jasmine asked, hooking her arm back through the strap of her bag.

“Nobody knows.” Ronnie waggled her eyebrows mysteriously. “We do let folks play around in the Heartspring sometimes, but there are two pools on the grounds—there’s an indoor lap pool down that corridor there,” she pointed down a seemingly endless stretch of wood-panelled hallway, “and a more casual outdoor pool. Not that we get to use it much, but it’s nice when the sun’s out. Are you sure you don’t want me to call Barry to come and get your bags?”

“Nono,” Henry’s mother waved her away. “I can manage.”

Ronnie gave the boy a withering look. “Maybe you should give your mother a hand.”

“I am fine.” Jasmine insisted, and Henry gave their guide a shrug.

The brunette’s hazel eyes smouldered under her pixie cut and she seemed to be about to say something when she let out a long sigh. “Alright, whatever you guys say. This way, come on.”

Towering over his mother and the receptionist by at least a foot or more, Henry nonetheless enjoyed the view as they followed Ronnie through the labyrinthine corridors of the spa, watching her well-muscled behind twitch back and forth in an abbreviated pair of black lycra shorts that let her show off every sculpted inch of her silky-smooth (if not very long) legs.

He was glad for the first female company he’d had since they landed (besides his own mother) and even gladder that she was a tightly-packed, muscular little MILF who would look fantastic seated atop his thick cock, squirming and-

“Here you go, guys. Right in here.” Ronnie swiped a card and opened the door to their suite. She ushered mother and son inside.

Henry gave her one last lingering look as she shut the door on them. Jasmine dropped all their bags on the floor and stretched.

“Oh my god that feels so good!” She stood on her tiptoes, arms reaching out for the ceiling and held that pose for a moment. The hem of her dusty pink hoodie rose up above the waistband of jeans, exposing a long slice of caramel skin. “I could just do with a cup of tea, right now.” She cast about the suite.

The room was wide open from wall-to-wall, with only differing levels of elevation to indicate changes in purpose. At the highest level, set atop its own tiny pedestal, sat a large circular bed with a commanding view of the rest of the suite, including the floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out on the misty forest beyond. On the middle tier, a granite-inlaid bathroom nook featured an expansive whirlpool tub set directly in the floor and a glass-walled shower cubicle that made no concessions to privacy. At the bottom, a gas-fed fire shimmered in the heart of a sunken firepit surrounded by a semicircle of plush seating open to the enormous windows.

Not a kettle to be seen. Nor a phone, for that matter. Or a television.

“This place is fuckin’ weird.” Henry said, stifling a yawn. He was staring at the huge bed.

“It’s a spa, sweetheart.” Jasmine said. “Perhaps they don’t go in for technology. But I could just murder a cuppa right now.” His mom let loose her bun, sending hair tumbling down over her shoulder in a long black waterfall. “I’m going to pop out and check out the cafe; did you want to come?”

He grunted, and started up the stairs towards the bed. “Nah. I’m just gonna stay here.” Halfway up, he stopped and turned. “Why aren’t there two beds?”

“I’ve no idea,” she said. “I’m sure I said two beds. I’ll get it sorted on my way to the cafe. You go on and have a nap. It’s been a long day.“

The main Jocasta’s Playground building was a maze, and no mistake. Sometimes she was looking outside, sometimes she felt like she was thirty feet underground. Sometimes the signage seemed obvious—RECEPTION THIS WAY—only to lead her to a multifunctional space or a “Yoga Grotto” or a “Massage Therapy” room.

Eventually, Jasmine passed a door that lead out into the misty forest and decided to take her chances with the paths outside. If she stuck to the right, she figured, she should eventually come around the side of the building to the front.

The fog-bound forest was wasn’t cold, but the damp cut through her hoodie and loose joggers, seeping into her bones.

Eventually, she came to a sign:

JOCASTA’S PLAYGROUND RESORT AND SPA

← CAFE 10M

RECEPTION AND GUEST SUITES 75M →

← SEASIDE OVERLOOK 100M

POOL 50M →

WELCOME, ENJOY AND LOSE YOURSELF

Reception wasn’t that far away, and she really did need something hot to shake the fog out of her joints.

Jasmine turned left, and headed to the Cafe.

It was a snug little cedar-paneled building not far off the path, well-lit with a small number of patio tables and muskoka chairs situated outside, getting progressively wetter and wetter. RHEA’S DELIGHTS was etched into the glass door, which whooshed open as she approached, releasing the heavenly, homey smells of baked goods and the promise of hot tea.

Stepping through, the inside of the shop teemed with dozens of tall glass jars, thick with teas of every type and description. Red, white, black, green, herbal in a dizzying array of mixes and blends and flavours. The counter top featured the usual assortment of baked goods—muffins, cookies, oatcakes and such. Half a dozen small tables were littered throughout, none large enough to accommodate more than two, and most were empty that evening, save for one couple sitting in the back.

“Hello, lovely!” A woman stood up from behind the counter. She was a head or two taller than Jasmine, with a tumbling, loopy mane of deep red curls; her generous mouth was twisted in a wry grin. A tight white t-shirt was stretched across the impressive swells of her breasts, distorting the Jocasta’s logo embossed in sequins over the left. She looked like she was about Jasmine’s own age, somewhere in her early forties, and very well-preserved. “Well, aren’t you new?“

“Hello,” Jasmine said, blushing a bit. “Yes. We just arrived today. How did you know?”

“It’s a small island,” the woman, obviously the proprietor, winked at her. “I’m Rhea, like it says on the door. Everybody comes through here eventually, and I haven’t seen you before. You’re not here by yourself, are you?”

“Oh no, no.” Jasmine shook her head. “My son Henry is back in our room.”

“You couldn’t drag him out with you?”

“No, he was so tired after our trip that I wanted to let him sleep, poor thing.“

“Silly boy,” Rhea laughed. “Ah well, it’s early days yet. What can I get for you?”

“Oh just a cup of tea, please.”

“Did you have a particular preference?” The redhead swept her arm, indicating the whole shop. “You’re a bit spoiled for choice, there.”

“Um,” Jasmine looked around helplessly. None of the usual varieties seemed evident, and everything else had fairly vague names—Island Rest, Heartspring Healing, Outlook Morning—that didn’t indicate very much. “Black, I guess? What do you recommend?”

“I know just the thing,” Rhea laughed again, a warm throaty chuckle. She reached down behind the counter and pulled out a half-empty glass jar of black tea leaves. “It’s our most popular blend—Grey Goddess—an Earl Grey-based tea with a few local herbal additions. Trust me, you’ll love it.” Deftly, she scooped a heap of it into a small pouch, and dropped it into a steaming mug of hot water. “We’ll let it steep for a while so you can get the full effect.”

“How much—”

“For you? Tonight?” She looked around at the nearly-empty cafe, and leaned over the countertop. “Free for you, love.” Rhea winked. “Go and take a seat, and I’ll bring it over once it’s ready.”

Jasmine picked out a table, and sat down. In the back of the cafe, a woman and a man were huddled closely over their drinks; they’d obviously been out for a run or something, they were wearing abbreviated running shorts and trainers along with still-damp jackets. Their bare legs met under the table and rubbed gently together. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d sat with someone like that; since Henry’s father passed away, certainly, and that was easily ten years ago.

Though willow thin, the woman looked somewhat older than her companion, probably by a decade or more. Her legs were long and flawless, but her age betrayed by a few crow’s feet around her eyes and traces of grey around her temples.

“Here you are, darlin’,” Rhea arrived with the tea, along with a slice of banana loaf on a plate. Wiping her hands on the apron tied around her trim waist, she sat down across from Jasmine. “Go on, give it a go.”

The mug was warm, and welcome heat seeped through Jasmine’s chilly fingers. Raising it to her lips, she took a sip, then another. The citrusy taste of the Earl Grey was dominant, but there was something else, something warm and spicy and delicious underneath. Mindful of the hot water, she took another, bigger mouthful.

“It’s lovely,” she said. “Just wonderful!” Over at the other table, the woman had spilled some of her drink. Droplets of amber liquid rolled down the length of her calf. Immediately, the man sprang to his feet, grabbing a couple of napkins; taking a knee on the floor, he began to lovingly wipe his partner’s leg.

Rhea smiled as they watched him, and Jasmine drank again.

“It’s lovely to have someone to do for you,” Rhea said, with surprising forcefulness. “Someone to lend a hand, somebody who can pick up after you, and treat you a bit like a queen.“

Jasmine blushed again. “Oh, wouldn’t it?” She drank, mulling over the other woman’s words. “But I’ve never- It’s been such a long—”

“I thought you said you had a boy?” The cafe owner turned to look at her.

“Henry?” Jasmine laughed. “No no, if anything, I’m the one who looks after him. After his father passed away, I just got used to trying to keep him safe and happy and content. A bit too much, maybe. I’ve been his live-in maid for years. I can’t remember the last time he did anything for me.“

“That’s not the way it should be,” Rhea’s voice was gentle, but there was steel somewhere underneath it. “A boy should look after his mum every once in a while. After all, you’ve been taking care of him, haven’t you? It’s only fair.”

“Oh, I suppose,” she shrank in her chair a bit, feeling like she was being judged. She took another, bigger drink.

“When my boy Charles comes over from the main building,” the redhead said, nodding in the direction of the main Jocasta’s building, “after a long day of running the kitchen over yonder, the first thing he says is, ‘is there anything I can do for you, mum?’”

Jasmine tried to imagine Henry doing the same, and took a long pull from the mug.

“You should be a bit more forceful with him,” Rhea said. “it sounds like he runs you right over like a spoiled brat, but a boy’s natural inclination is to do what his mum says, and you should remember that. It’s too bad you’ve gone and missed Madeline’s orientation session this week, you could’ve learned a thing or two. But you should keep it in your mind, any road.“

“I...I’ll think about it.” The young man had stopped wiping his partner’s leg, and appeared to be kissing it. That couldn’t be right, could it?

“Have you seen the Heartspring?” The redhead asked, taking a bite out of Jasmine’s banana loaf.

“Yes, yes it’s gorgeous. I’ve never seen anything like it!”

“You know they let people swim there when nobody’s using it?” Rhea grabbed one of the napkins and a pen from her apron. She scribbled something down and pushed it over. “Here, it should be empty around then, no classes or anything. You and your son should check it out.”

“I will, thank you!” Jasmine took the napkin and stuffed it in the pocket of her hoodie. She took another long pull from the mug. The couple in the back were getting up now, and strode past, arms linked, giggling. As they passed, the woman reached down and grabbed her partners behind, giving it a hearty squeeze. Jasmine looked down, feeling very warm and slightly giddy for some reason.

“Are you alright? You look a bit flushed.”

“Yes, yes I’m fine.” She said, looking into the empty mug. “Tea’s all gone.”

“I think maybe you should head back, then. Maybe have a bit of a lie down, think it over.” Rhea pushed herself back from the table and stood. Jasmine nodded, feeling a little overwhelmed by the redheaded cafe-owner’s height, and got up herself.

Exiting into the misty night, the cool air cleared her head a little. What Rhea had said about boys and their mums was interesting, though she’d never really thought about it before. She was thinking about it now, however.

“Mom, are you sure we can even be in here?” Henry asked as she held the door open for him.

“Pretty sure!” Jasmine enthused. “Come on, live a little!” She waved him in. Their robes were the same length, so while hers dropped all the way to the floor, his fell only to calf-length, and he found himself having to hold the front together with his hands. She slipped in behind her son, and the door banged shut heavily behind them.

“Oh, just smell that!” Henry watched as his mother took in a deep double-lungful of the moist, warm air that filled up the Heartspring atrium, despite being open to the sky. The front of her robe expanded and began to part in a fashion he suddenly found very interesting, then embarrassing. When was the last time he’d had sex, anyway?

“Breathe it in!” Reluctantly, he did, and felt a warmth suffuse through his body from toes to fingertips, making his extremities tingle a little.

“What is that smell?” It was spicy and warm and homey and something else. Henry shrugged off his robe, and Jasmine was suddenly struck by how fit her son looked; had he always been so broad? As the terrycloth settled around his feet, she couldn’t help but stare at the smooth brown skin of his abdominals; they bunched and flexed when he kicked the robe away to the side. His bright-green boardshorts fell to knee-length but draped nicely over the rounded swell of his behind. His mother licked her lips and looked back at the water, a smoothly roiling strawberry pink.

“I don’t know, but isn’t it lovely? I can’t wait to try the water!” Jasmine untied her own robe, and let it fall to the floor. She wore a modest, high-necked purple one piece suit that suddenly felt too a little tight around the chest as her nipples sparked to life. The suit was cut to conceal as much skin as possible, but could do very little to hide the impressive size of her breasts while white piping along the side emphasized the exaggerated curve of her waist as it tucked in above her hips. Looking over, she saw that Henry was staring at her. In unison, they blinked.

She edged towards the water, and dipped a toe in. It was hot, just above body-temperature, and it sent a thrill through her body. Gingerly walking into the water, she found it went no deeper than her waist; a gentle frisson of bubbles popped around her navel while she felt the tingly feeling suffuse through her lower body. On a sudden impulse, Jasmine bent her knees and jumped, diving beneath the surface.

Warm, pink water folded around her and sluiced through the gaps in her suit, briefly taking her in a heated, tingling embrace. She relished the sensation for a moment, kicking her legs until they found the bottom again and jumped upwards. Breaking through in a wild splash, liquid poured from her long black hair and face in a pink waterfall, plastering the one-piece suit to her body as it flowed over every nook and cranny.

Henry, still standing on the edge, breathing heavily of the perfumed steam emanating from the Heartspring, stared wide-eyed at his mother as her fingers combed through her hair, flipping it out of her face, back arched, breasts proudly thrust towards him. The wet lycra looked oilslick slippery as it moulded around the firm globes of her tits, jostling for space underneath her suit. As the water dripped from her face, Jasmine’s rose-petal-pink lips glistened, momentarily frozen in a gasping “O” as she sucked in the spicy air of the springs.

Before she could open her eyes again, Henry had jumped into the water ten, fifteen feet away in a terrific splash that sent a small tsunami towards her. Looking downrange, she watched him trying to float, stretching out in the hotspring as far as his long, broad body would go, and she spied a thick bulging mound gently rising over his left thigh. The sudden knowledge that she was spying on her own son’s endowment sent a forbidden thrill through her body as she briefly wondered about its dimensions.

Embarrassed at her own thoughts, Jasmine kicked away to the other side of the grotto, where the water was burbling up through the rock. The natural heated jet pounded against her legs, then buttocks as she spread her arms and relaxed against the rough granite edge of the pool.

“Oh!” She gasped. “Henry! You’ve got to- oooh! Try this!” Jasmine closed her eyes and surrendered herself to the water. He watched from across the atrium as his mother’s body gently rose in water, gasping as the hotspring pushed against her from below, pulsing insistently between her legs. Henry folded his legs in, coming to sit on the bottom, his hands below the surface, one idly resting against his insistent cock. The gently fizzing water was tickling the shaft, making it difficult to keep it from thickening to a full erection; his mother’s gasps of pleasure weren’t helping much.

But he couldn’t do anything about it, could he? Not touch it, touch it. Not here, not with his mother in the room, not while he was watching her face, framed by the twin mounds of her breasts, lips parted and gasping, tongue lashing to catch the beads of water as they rolled down her face-

“I’ve got to go,” he said, suddenly pulling himself out of the water.

“What? Already?” Jasmine’s eyes opened and she watched his broad, muscular back as he walked across to pick up his robe.

“No, I’ve got to go,” he said, hastily pulling it closed around him, hands firmly clasped in front.

“Oh, I see.” She said, disappointed, and paddled closer. “Can you please grab a towel for me before you go, Henry?” There was a chrome rack in the corner of the atrium, piled high with fresh towels.

“Mom, I’ve got to go.” Her son said, although he didn’t seem to be too eager to bolt for the door, almost as if he were waiting for something.

Jasmine crossed her arms on the edge of the grotto, allowing her lower body to rise to the surface. The thick curves of her buttocks broke through the water, pink rivulets coursing down over them to puddle in the small of her back.

“Get me a towel, please.” She said. Thinking of what Rhea had said, she put a little more bite in her words than she ever would have with her son. “Now.”

Biting his lip, Henry appeared to be wracked with indecision, eyes flicking back and forth between her face and the bobbing curves of her ass.

“Sure.” He said. “Whatever.” Jasmine watched her son stomp over to the rack and snatch one of the towels off, pulling it out of its fold. His feet splashed on the floor of the atrium as he stomped back to her, one arm extended. “Here.”

“Thank you, honey.” She reached up to take it, and their hands touched. A thrill and a flush rushed through both of their bodies as Jasmine took the towel from Henry. A sensation of...power...rolled through her as it had never done before. For a brief moment, she felt like she could have commanded him to do anything and he would. The thrill coursed through her and her nipples peaked, clearly visible through the wet lycra, while heat began building between her thighs.

Henry, a shocked look on his face, let go of the towel and, in a hunched-over half-step, stumbled out, stammering, “I-I really gotta go! I gotta go!”

“...and then he did it!” Jasmine explained while Rhea leaned over the countertop, listening with a smile. “You don’t understand! He’s never listens to me! Never! And he did it, just like that!” She snapped her fingers. The redhead’s smile broadened.

“Did you like it?” She asked. Jasmine blushed prettily.

“It was very nice, yes.” The diminutive brunette picked up her tea and took a long pull, letting the spicy warmth of the brew suffuse through her body.

“Maybe you should do it again.” Rhea winked. “Maybe it’s time to rewrite your relationship with your son a bit, yeah? You certainly look happier, excited, almost.“

Jasmine smiled shyly, remembering how much time she’d spent in the spa after Henry’s departure, letting the jet of the spring play against her body, the heated stream toying with the sensitive flesh between her legs and thinking of the thrill of telling her son what to do. She’d never told a man what to do before, nevermind her spoiled son, and it was exciting, dammit. There was no shame in that, in enjoying herself. Maybe when she got back home, she’d try looking for-

“This calls for a celebration!” Rhea declared, interrupting her customer’s train of thought. “Just a small one, though.” From behind the counter, she produced a small silver hip flask and unscrewed the top. “Here, give it a go.” Before Jasmine could say anything, she poured a glug of something amber into the mug. Then, in a stage whisper, “but don’t tell anybody, I’m not supposed to be serving alcohol in here.”

“Oh-oh I really couldn’t,” she tried to wave the drink away with an embarrassed, fluttering motion. “I don’t even drink alcohol, I haven’t in years and I would hate to get you into troub—”

“Drink it,” Rhea insisted. “It feels good to be a bit naughty every now and again. It’s only a little nip. It won’t hurt.“

Jasmine giggled conspiratorially, and took a swig. There couldn’t have been much alcohol in there, but knowing she was breaking the rules intentionally added a frisson of excitement; the knowledge of her own naughtiness, remembering how naughty she’d been in the Heartspring, sent an electric thrill through her body that sent her nipples perking up again. She wondered if anybody would be able to see them; she was only wearing a bright blue t-shirt that hugged her chest and trim waist. But there was nobody to see, only Rhea.

“See?” The cafe owner said. “Feels good, doesn’t it? A little tingle. Now imagine how good it would feel to do something really naughty.“

She took another swig, another tingle. “Like what?”

“Sometimes, people sneak into the Heartspring after dark for a night swim,” Rhea winked. Jasmine squirmed in her chair a bit, legs rubbing together at the thought of her and Henry slipping into the Heartspring after hours, easing out of their robes and-

“...very romantic,” Rhea was saying. “Who knows? You might even meet a fella down there. You wouldn’t be the first one to meet your true love down in the Heartspring.”

“O-oh?”

“Oh yes.” Then the redhead chuckled. “You certainly wouldn’t be the first to find some lucky boy to snuggle up in between your legs and satisfy other cravings, either. I’d wager what a woman like you needs is a nice, big young cock to toy with.”

Jasmine wriggled a little in her chair, feeling her panties bunching up between her legs. The last young cock she’d seen any evidence of was Henry’s and that one...that one had been quite big, hadn’t it? Knowing she was thinking about her own son’s tool sent another little trill of naughty pleasure through her. She drank from the mug again.

“Of course, you should be properly dressed for such an occasion,” Rhea said. “You do have something appropriate, don’t you darlin?“

“What do you mean?” The brunette looked down into her mug, flustered. “I have a...a suit?”

“Nothing too crazy, lovely, but something that might turn a fella’s head, you know?”

Still looking into the dregs of her drink, Jasmine shook her head. “No, nothing like that, I guess.”

“No harm, honey. You came here with your son, you weren’t planning on seducing anybody on this trip.” Rhea gave her a long, languid wink. ”But findin’ a nice ripe young lad to seduce sounds very naughty to me. Anyway, here—” she slid a card across the table. “Take that on down to the shop at reception. Tell Ronnie I sent ya. She’ll set you up good and proper, lovely. I promise.“

“Thank you!” She swallowed the last of the tea, and the remaining liquor went straight to her head, making her a little dizzy.

“For what? I haven’t done anything!” The redhead laughed. “Just make sure you come back after to tell me all about it. Just between us girls. You can come back tonight if you like! I’m here all evening—my boy and I have rooms upstairs. We can have a giggle about it and maybe a drink or two.“

“Okay!” Jasmine stood up, then grabbed onto the table, suddenly a little lightheaded for some reason. “I’ll do it.”

“I know you will, sweetheart. I’ll see you then,” Rhea picked up the empty mug and tucked it away behind the counter, grinning wryly as she watched the other woman leave.

“Mom, I still don’t know why I’m here,” Henry said in a hushed voice.

“Because I didn’t want to wander around at night by myself.” Jasmine held the belt of her robe tight, keeping a weather eye out for Jocasta’s staff as they scurried through the labyrinthine corridors. “Because I asked you nicely. Did you want me to tell you to walk me down here?“

Henry had no answer, and Jasmine tried not to think too hard about it. She was trying mostly to keep steady on her new sandals, being wholly unaccustomed to wearing a heel of any height, never mind the tall wedges the saleswoman had somehow talked her into. She’d made it sound like such a good idea at the time, but now that she had to occasionally grab Henry’s arm for balance she wasn’t so sure. At least there didn’t seem to be anybody around for her to embarrass herself in front of.

“Is it this way?” Henry asked as they came to a corner. “I fucking hate the way this place is set up.”

“Henry, language.” His mother chided. Despite himself, her son shut his mouth. Jasmine smiled a victorious little smile, and pointed left. “Down this way.” Before long, they came to the door leading into the Heartspring.

“Come on,” she said, and reached for the handle. But before she could take it, it swung open and a couple came tumbling out, the man and woman from the cafe, laughing loudly and dripping wet in their robes.

“Oh I’m so sorry!” The woman said, catching herself before they collided with Henry and his mom. Taking her partner’s hand she pulled him out of the way, and Jasmine was struck by how much younger the man looked, probably no older than Henry, really. She remembered what Rhea had said about ripe young men, and felt a little thrill by proxy, a little slickness building in her pussy.

They slid in before the door shut. Again, there was nobody else inside the atrium, which was moodily lit by garden lanterns around the perimeter.

“Henry, can you get me a towel?” Jasmine said, looking out over the water, untying the knot in the belt.

“Mom, I’m not—”

“Please?” She said, and let her robe fall to the floor. Henry’s breath caught in his throat when he saw that her back was mostly bare; the bottom half of the suit—an offwhite one-piece that contrasted nicely with the deep caramel of her skin—dipped low over her hips and stretched tightly across the broad meaty curves of her behind, which in turn attempted to swallow the lycra into the deep cleft between her buttocks. A long, smooth expanse of skin led up to a tightly-strained hook closure, then her bare shoulders, hidden beneath the silky black curtain of her hair which fell over the tie of her halter top.

“Henry?” She turned around to look at her son. The suit scooped her breasts up and into a plateau of soft, mature titflesh that jiggled slightly as she moved; large cutouts on either side created a narrow band of fabric that covered her sternum and navel and on down to the bottom half of the suit, following and revealing the dramatic curve of her waist and hips. Henry’s hands clenched and unclenched. His eyes trailed down the luscious flesh of her thighs, smooth and brown, and on down to her squatty little toes bunched up in the four-inch wedge-heeled thongs she was wearing.

Suddenly very self-conscious, and very aware that her son had probably never seen so much of his mother before, she said, “I don’t look ridiculous, do I?“

“No,” Henry said in a hushed tone. “No.” He shifted, uncomfortably. Slowly, he dragged his gaze back up his mother’s body to meet her eyes, then looked away.

“Can you get me a towel then?” He strode away, and she got a little tingle, watching him obey. “Two, actually. I want one for my hair, too.” Henry returned a moment later, and she stepped down from her tall heels. “Here, put these with the towels over on that bench.”

“Yes, mom.” He said, and bent low to pick up her shoes, then stack them atop the towels and put the pile on a nearby bench. When he turned around, he saw that there was a flush in her face, and her nipples were clearly visible through the fabric of her suit. “Can I go now?”

She turned, and began walking into the water. Henry watched the rocking motion of her hips and the jiggle of her buttocks as she splashed in and jumped under the surface. What was he waiting for? Why couldn’t he just go? He didn’t need her permission, he was a fucking grown-ass man and-

“No,” Jasmine said, firmly, as she broke the surface again. “Wait here, please, honey. I don’t want to be alone.” She relaxed backwards and floated a moment on her back, gently kicking her feet.

Henry considered leaving anyway, but the thought turned his stomach a little, so he sat down on the bench, next to her towels. That felt better, more natural. He breathed deeply of the heady vapours of the Heartspring, and relaxed. It felt good to help his mom, really. He looked over at the shoes lying on the towels, and reflected a moment on how she’d looked in them, up on a four-inch pedestal like a curvy little brown goddess. He felt a stirring in his pants, and looked away. Jasmine was doing a lazy backstroke in the water.

“You can come in, you know.” She said.

“How?” He asked. “I don’t have my shorts or anything.”

“You’ve got underwear on, haven’t you?” Jasmine floated in the water, the peaks of her breasts skimming just above the surface. “It’s okay, honey. You can be a little naughty. It’s only your mum here. It’s nothing I haven’t seen anyway.” She chuckled.

“Mom, I don’t know—”

“Henry,” she stood, facing him. “Take off your clothes and get in the water.”

“Yes, mom.” He said. The words made her heart skip a beat. Jasmine drifted aimlessly in the pool a bit, watching as her son stripped off his polo and jeans, revealing his broad, muscular body in the dim lights of the atrium. She noticed that he was wearing a pair of black boxer briefs, underwear she’d seen in the laundry on a weekly basis, but had never really considered how...well...he filled them out. Henry eased himself into the water on the far side of the grotto, and Jasmine found herself watching the muscles rippling under his skin, fascinated by the sculpted frame of his body.

“You don’t have to be so far away, honey,” she said, softly, as he settled into the water. “Come here, Henry.” Without a word, he pushed away from the wall and had crossed the Heartspring in a couple of breaststrokes.

“Here,” Jasmine said as he broke the surface, taking him by one arm and pushing him towards the granite wall. “Feel the jet of the spring.”

Her son settled his back against the wall, and felt the spout of water rushing up from below, bubbles bursting against his pendant sac. He squirmed a bit, but not from discomfort.

“It’s good, isn’t it?” She asked.

“Yeah,” he said in a ragged voice.

“Well, don’t hog it.” Turning around, Jasmine backed into her son, letting her firm, meaty behind bounce into his torso. “Hold onto your mum, now, and we can both enjoy.” His arms encircled her, coming to rest just under her breasts, and an electric trill ran through them both. The heated jet from the spring ran between their legs, and Jasmine bit her lip, thinking of just how bad they were both being. She squirmed a little in his arms, the slick skin of her ass sliding around against his six-pack.

“Isn’t this nice?” She said, resting her head against his chest. Henry grunted his assent. “Aren’t you glad you came, now? You didn’t even want to go until we watched the DVD, and even then you complained the whole way.”

“It’s good, mom. I like it a lot.” He squeezed her tighter.

“Spending time with your mum’s not so bad,” Jasmine chuckled. “Maybe you should listen to what I have to say more often.”

“I will,” he said in a hushed voice, breath catching in his throat as the words left his mouth.

“What a good boy,” she said, as pleasurable warmth suffused her through body, feeling her labia begin to swell. “And good boys get rewarded.” Her slippery behind slid down his torso an inch, and she felt the hardness of his youthful cock pressing into her flesh. Jasmine stifled a gasp, and they both froze. This was so wrong, but the sheer wrongness made it feel so good; she was more excited than she’d ever been in her life, knowing she was violating the most dearly-held rules. She wiggled her behind, just a little, feeling the thick log of Henry’s cock sinking into the deep cleft of her ass.

“Are you alright, honey?” She asked, innocently. “Your old mum’s not too heavy, is she?”

“N-no, mom.” His voice was strained. Jasmine tried not to giggle, and wriggled again. She was being an awful tease, she knew, but she just couldn’t help herself. Henry’s arms released her torso, and she felt his big hands settling down on her hips.

“Henry,” she warned. “You’re not doing anything you oughtn’t back there, are you?” His fingers pressed into her flesh, but didn’t quite pull her downwards.

“No mom,” he said again, and the rush of knowing that he was not only listening but obeying made her toes curl. Of its own accord, one of Jasmine’s hands slid between her legs, and settled just on top of her pubic mound. Over her suit, of course. The bubbles from the Heartspring played around her fingertips as she pressed her palm down.

“Mmmm, good boy.” Jasmine purred, and squeezed her ass around the insistent rod pressing into her. “It’s okay to be a bit naughty,” she said, rolling her hips a little and grinding the palm of her hand into her own delicate flesh. “But we don’t want to get carried away, do we?“

“No, I guess not.” Henry’s fingers dug a little deeper, hands trembling, but otherwise not moving.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” she said. “You just listen to your mum and she’ll lead you right.”

“Yes, mom.” Henry said, grunting. Jasmine hooked her legs behind her son’s knees, sandwiching his rampant erection deeper in between her ass cheeks, while grinding her palm harder into her pussy mound.

“That’s right,” she said. “Mum knows what’s best.” Henry was breathing heavily in her ear. “You should always do what I tell you, shouldn’t you?”

“Y-yes!” He gasped. Jasmine’s other hand reached back to entwine itself in his hair. She rolled her hips again, savouring the sensation of skin sliding against skin.

“O-oh, honey!” Her toes curling behind his knees, Henry’s mom dug her fingers into the deep cameltoe she’d created in the crotch of the suit. The heated wetness sliding around down there wasn’t all from the Heartspring, not by far. Pressing her fingertips in between her plush outer labia, she pushed her ass harder onto Henry’s thick slab of meat, surrounding it in a slippery cocoon of soft flesh, even with her suit and his shorts in the way. “It makes mummy feel so good when you do what she s-saaays!” Without warning, Jasmine’s body went rigid as a sudden orgasm coursed through her, clamping her generous behind tight down on her son’s fat cock. He grunted and held on tight as she felt something hotter even than the Heartpsring begin to smear across her lower back...

“...that’s mad!” Rhea leaned forward in her chair, fascinated. The front of her silky black robe parted as she did, revealing enough ivory-white cleavage that Jasmine was pretty sure that she wasn’t wearing anything underneath it. “Then what happened?” They were seated in a pair of overstuffed easy chairs in the living room of the apartment above the cafe.

Jasmine buried her head in her hands. “Ooooh, Rhea. It all got so out of hand, so out of control.” She shook her head. “I don’t know what happened, or why we did it. I don’t know why we didn’t stop or come to our sense. It’s all so wrong.” Rubbing her face, she sat back up.

“We stayed like that for a moment, a very long moment.” She shivered in her terrycloth robe, remembering. “Then it was like we both woke up from a dream. He didn’t say anything, I didn’t say anything. He just got out of the Heartspring and left and now I don’t know what to do. I stayed there for a long, long time and then got dressed and came straight here. I don’t even know why I did that because I was following your advice in the first place!” She stamped one wedge-heeled foot on the floor.

“Why? Because I’m your friend, darlin’.” Rhea stood, and her robe parted briefly to expose the sheer length of her legs, stark white against the black silk. “You polish off that cuppa, and then I’ll get some medicine into you.” She winked, and walked towards the stairs leading down.

“Sean!” The statuesque redhead called down. “Bring up two Mothers’ Milks when you get a chance, will you?”

“Yes mum!” Came a deep male voice from below.

“He’s a good boy,” Rhea winked. “Deep down, they all want to be a good boy for mum. Making mum happy makes them happy.”

Jasmine rubbed her face while Rhea’s words sunk into her brain. She spoke softly, insistently, but sometimes... it felt like each word was a door slamming shut in her head. Of course Henry just wanted to be a good boy for her, and it did feel good when he did what she said, didn’t it? Given her a little tingle, and he hadn’t even asked for anything crazy—just a little help, here and there—and there was certainly nothing wrong with that was there? And besides, even if she did ask him to do something wrong, it was okay to be naughty sometimes, even exciting!

“There he is!” Exclaimed Rhea, disrupting her train of thought. Coming up the stairs was a slim young man of about 20 or so, wearing the standard Jocasta’s uniform for men: a tight white t-shirt that showed off the slight v-shape of his torso, and loose black pants. His bright red hair and pallid complexion were clearly inherited from his mother. In either hand, he held a large glass goblet filled to the brim with a milky solution, a slice of pineapple hanging over the side of each glass while brightly-coloured paper umbrellas rolled along the rim at a jaunty angle. “Bring them here, Sean.” She was seated in her easy chair again, looking like a queen as she beckoned for her son to come over. She’d crossed one long pale leg over the other, and bounced her foot impatiently.

He came to his mother first, gently handing over the drink, then bending for a kiss on the mouth, that lingered for just a moment too long. They parted with a slightly wet, sticky sound, and Sean brought Jasmine her drink. She sniffed it, diffidently. She’d actually never seen a drink so large.

“Thank you, darlin’,” Rhea said as her son perched on the arm of her chair; one of her hands slid up and onto his knee. ”Go ahead and drink up, lovely. It’ll calm your nerves.” Jasmine took a sip; it was sweet and spicy and very alcoholic, but the moment the liquid hit her tongue, she could feel the tension lift from her shoulders. “See? Feels better already, doesn’t it?” Jasmine nodded.

“This is my boy, Sean.” The young man waved. “He runs the kitchen over in the main building, so if you had breakfast this morning, he’s the one who made sure it was edible. Sean, this is our new friend Jasmine; she’s staying at the spa with her lad, Henry. She’s had a bit of a fright, so she just popped in for a nip.” Rhea gently stroked her son’s leg as her guest took another drink.

“You don’t mind when mum asks you do to her favours, do you, Sean?”

“Nah,” he shook his head. “I love it. You’ve got a better head on your shoulders than I do, anyway. I’d be lost without you.” His mother squeezed his leg, above the knee.

“See?” Rhea said. “Jasmine feels guilty about getting Henry to do things for her.” She explained. Sean laughed, heartily.

“Foolishness!” He spat out. “There’s nothing I love better than ob- than doing something nice for mum.” Rhea’s hand crept up his thigh.

“Every boy wants to make his mum happy,” she said, and Jasmine nodded again. “And to tell you the truth, it’s better than having a husband! He’ll stick around, for one thing. Won’t you, Sean?“

“Oh yeah,” he enthused. “Where would I go without you?” Rhea’s hand was dangerously high in his lap.

“Mmmm,” she purred. “You’ve no idea how happy that makes your old mum to hear.” Her fingertips walked around on the surface of Sean’s upper thigh. Jasmine drank deeply of the Mother’s Milk, watching the pair in front of her. While her hand walked around in her son’s lap, Rhea was subtly rubbing her legs together. It couldn’t be a bad thing for a mother to let her son make her so happy, could it? She remembered the pleasurable tingle that came along with watching Henry neatly stack her towels on the bench, and began to rub her own thighs together.

“...not old, mum,” Sean was saying. “You’re mature—and gorgeous to boot!” One of Rhea’s fingers looked like it was sliding along the inside of his leg.

“What about our guest, darlin’?” His mother asked, gesturing at Jasmine. ”Stand up, lovely. Take off your robe.” She took another pull from the goblet and did as Rhea suggested, knowing that she shouldn’t, that she never would have before, that it was just so naughty, disrobing in front of a handsome young man she’d only met ten minutes previously. The robe fell to her feet, and she saw Sean’s eyes go wide. He breathed out in a low whistle. “Don’t be shy now, give us a spin.” Rhea made a circle motion with her drink. Still slightly wobbly on the unfamiliar shoes, Jasmine turned in a slow circle, and heard Sean gasp once she’d presented her behind to him. Emboldened by the alcohol, she bent at the waist a little, pushing her thick booty towards him, enjoying the sensation of having his eyes crawling all over her body, knowing she was teasing this young man, her friend’s own son. Forbidden pleasure coursed through her, and she rubbed her thighs together more urgently, feeling the moisture beginning to seep into the fabric of the suit. Jasmine looked back over her shoulder at Sean.

“Henry’s a lucky lad,” he said, voice slightly distant. All of Rhea’s fingers were inside his thigh now, her wrist working in short strokes.

“Isn’t he.” Sean’s mother agreed. “I told you Ronnie would set you up right, didn’t I? I’m surprised she didn’t try to sell you something even more...revealing.” Jasmine blushed. “Oh she did!” Rhea chuckled. “I hear we’re supposed to get a break in the clouds tomorrow. You should wear it tomorrow out by the pool, get some son on you. I bet Henry wouldn’t mind getting outside either.“

“That’s such a good idea,” Jasmine enthused, turning all the way through the circle. “I haven’t seen the sun for days now; not since we crossed the border. Do you really like the suit, Sean?”

“Oh yeah,” he said, panting a little. She sat down in her chair, crossing her legs slowly in a lengthy display of smooth brown thigh. She watched his eyes tracking the motion of her legs and wished there was a discreet way for her to slip her hand in between them. Jasmine went to take another drink from her goblet, and found it was empty.

“Do you want another?” Rhea asked. ”Go on and tell him.”

“Can I—”

“Tell him.” Sean’s mother insisted.

“Sean,” Jasmine began, clearing her throat. ”Go and make me another drink.” Then, after a moment, she added, “please.” He glanced down at his mother, who gave him a tiny nod.

“Yes ma’am,” Sean said with a grin, standing up and crossing the floor to take the glass from her. The curvy little brunette’s head felt hazy, but there was no mistaking the pleasure she felt telling him what to do, and another when he agreed. She gave him a searing once-over as he passed, noting that there was a quarter-sized wet stain on the thigh of his pants, right where Rhea’s hand had been.

“Feels good, yeah?” Rhea asked. “There’s nothing wrong with feeling good, just like there’s nothing wrong with being naughty.” Jasmine nodded and watched as Sean’s tight behind wiggled away down the stairs. “Don’t feel bad about feeling good, lovely. That’s what you came here for, after all. And what else is a son for, if not makin his mum feel good? Nothing, that’s what.“

Henry’s mother closed her eyes, relishing the sensations flowing through her body, fueled by the alcohol and Rhea’s words and the new knowledge being written in her brain as doors slammed shut in there. She stretched out in the easy chair, curling her toes and rubbing her thighs together as the fabric of the suit squished in between them. She giggled.

“It feels so good to feel good,” she said. Rhea laughed.

“It’s the meaning of life,” the redhead told her. A liquid lethargy began seeping through of Jasmine’s limbs, despite the sensations emanating from her pussy. She rubbed her face again with one hand; her body felt like it was floating, almost. Was it the alcohol? Somebody pressed something cold and wet into her slackening fingers.

“Is she alright, mum?” Sean’s voice came from another planet. Jasmine’s fingers curled tight around the stem of the goblet.

“She’s alright,” Rhea said. ”Jasmine’s just having a bit of a dream is all. Now come here and give your mum a proper kiss.” There were wet noises and the sound of clothes rustling. Feeling far away, she opened one eye a crack, and saw a blurry shape on the far (soooo far!) side of the room, a writhing moving mix of white and black and red.

“Oh!” Rhea’s voice came in a gasp. “Your hand is cold. Here.” More clothing rustled. “Mmmm...there, that’s warmer, isn’t it?”

“Mum I’ve been thinking about it all day, ever since this morning, when you—” Sean was cut short by something, then wet noises ensued. Jasmine closed her eye again, feeling her head (so heavy!) loll forward onto her chest. It felt like it was going to take a lot of effort to lift it again.

“That’s right, use your fingers just like that,” Rhea cooed. “Now, deeper!” Jasmine smiled a sleepy satisfied grin. Whatever was going on in her dream sounded an awful lot like foreplay. “You have been waiting for your mum all day, haven’t you?“

“Please, please touch it,” he begged.

“It’s mum’s cock and she’ll do what she likes with it,” Rhea laughed. Jasmine laughed too.

“She’s still awake,” Sean hissed.

“Nobody told you to comment,” Rhea said, suddenly stern. “For that you can get down on your knees and put your tongue to better use.”

Though more sounds reached her ears from across the room, Jasmine heard no more.

Her head pounded as she stepped outside, Henry holding the door open for her. Rhea had been right—where the last couple of days had been miserably overcast and foggy, the summer sun was blazing overhead. At least she had mastered her shoes, despite the dizzying hangover, Jasmine thought as she strode into the sun past him.

Instead of the thick terrycloth robe, she was wearing a teal cover-up the woman down at the shop had sent up in the bag with her other purchases—really just an oversized t-shirt that wouldn’t stop sliding off her bare brown shoulders. Oversized sunglasses and a floppy hat kept the sun at bay.

“Are you sure you’re alright for this, mom?”

“I think a nice long lie-down in the sun is just what the doctor ordered.” Jasmine said brusquely. “Provided you don’t mind taking care of me.” She flashed him a look over her shoulder.

“No! Not at all,” he said, blushing hotly.

“Good boy,” his mother purred. Her headache was beginning to abate already in the warm sun. The gravel in the path crunched under their feet as he followed her to the outdoor pool, a kidney-shaped area just outside the main building itself and tucked away behind a thick hedge with an imposing iron gate. A couple dozen chaise longues were scattered about, with the odd, closed umbrella. There was a tiny swim-up bar on the far side, shuttered for the morning.

“Put the bag there, please Henry.” Jasmine gestured at the foot of a chaise close to the pool, under the shade of an open umbrella. She seated herself and looked up at her son, who was standing there, looking vaguely uneasy and at loose ends. His fingers played nervously with the belt of his robe. “You can take that off, honey. You’ll bake in this heat.”

“Mom these shorts are a little—”

“Don’t be silly, honey. There’s nobody else here,” the sweep of her arm encompassed the empty pool area. “Besides, I bought them for you, and I want to make sure they fit. Now take off your robe.”

“Yes, mom.” He said, cowed. Jasmine had to suppress a mewl as a brief thrill of pleasure coursed through her. Henry let the belt of his robe fall loose, and shrugged it off. As the terry cloth flumped to the ground, she was suddenly struck by how closely her son resembled Greek god or ancient Olympic athlete, cast in bronze. From his tight cap of black curls to the pout of his mouth, the youthful flawlessness of the brown skin he’d inherited from her to the tightly packed lean muscle rippling just underneath it, she had no doubt he could have been found in miniature in some Renaissance artist’s garret. Of course, no sculptor would have included the tiny black speedos Henry wore, or the impressive bulge that they barely contained.

Staring directly at her son’s crotch, Jasmine said, “yes, they look like they fit. Turn around, please?” His buttocks stretched the Lycra drum tight across their roundness. In a fit of naughtiness, she reached up and snapped the band crossing over his right cheek. It slapped back into place with a satisfying smack, and she found herself suddenly come all over with the urge to squeeze it. There was a fluttering heat building between her thighs, but she resisted the urge nonetheless.

“Yes they look very nice.” Jasmine said in a husky voice. “Do you like them?”

“They’re really tight,” he said.

“Yes, I know.” She tried not to run her fingers over his sun-warmed skin. “That’s to reduce resistance.” Failing, she trailed her nails down his thigh. “When you’re swimming. Go on. Jump in.”

Jasmine stretched herself out on the chaise as she watched Henry dash towards the water, saw those powerful leg muscles coil and spring as he launched himself into the pool. She dropped her shoes to the floor as his long brown body sliced through the water, wiggling her toes and letting her legs drift apart. Henry began to do laps in the water as she peeled off the cover-up, tossing it on top of her shoes. Leaning back, she looked up into the canopy of the open umbrella above and frowned.

“Henry,” she called out. “Can you come here a moment and fix this damn thing for me?”

His head popped up over the edge of the pool. “What?”

“Come here.” Jasmine said crisply. “And fix. This umbrella. I want to feel the sun on my skin.”

“Yes, mom.” Henry said, pulling himself out of the pool, and she could only stare as water coursed down over his torso, dripping from his pectoral muscles and running in rivulets through the gutters of his abs. He padded over, eyes locked on the supine form of his mother.

Jasmine was wearing a color-blocked bikini in a bright blue and electric green, a stark contrast with the deep brown of her skin. The bandeau top was barely sufficient to hold in the voluminous flesh of her breasts as it was, and as she laid back on the chaise they threatened to pour out with every breath. The diminutive bottoms made for a bright triangle of colour cut across the soft, smooth skin of her stomach, dipping briefly in between the plush thickness of her thighs. Eyes hidden beneath dark glass, she regarded her son as his gaze raked over her. A smile played over her luscious mouth.

“Close the umbrella, Henry darling,” she said, gesturing at it. The thick black lump in his Speedos had grown, pushing sideways along his thigh. He reached over her body to grab the stand, fiddling with the catch and jiggling the slick black Lycra package over her abdomen. Droplets of water splashed down on her tummy. Eventually, he loosened the mechanism, and the open canopy collapsed, drenching mother and son in blazing sunlight.

“Oh my,” Jasmine cooed. “That is so very much better. Thank you, Henry.” The heat that suffused through her body was more than just solar, she knew.

“In that bag, you should find some sunscreen,” she said, rolling over onto her stomach. “I’d really rather not burn.” She wiggled her behind in his general direction. “Put some on my back.”

“Yes, of course,” Henry said, and began rifling through the bag. It felt so good to watch him jump to do her bidding; Jasmine smiled, catlike, feeling like a queen. “This?” He asked, holding up a white bottle. She nodded.

“Legs first,” she said, kicking one foot. Turning to rest her head on her arms, Jasmine was soon rewarded by the sensation of thick, sun-warmed cream splatting up and down the back of one thigh, then her son’s big, strong hands as they smoothed it out over her skin. His palms skimmed down the back of her thigh, then encircled her calf, working in the greasy lotion; she really couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so well-taken-care-of, or just plain good, for that matter. “Make sure you get my thighs, Henry. Even on the inside. The skin is very sensitive in there.“

“Yes’m,” he muttered, applying more lotion and driving his big hands between her legs, smearing it between them, knuckles brushing dangerously close to the gusset of her bikini bottoms. They both paused for a moment in shock at the near-contact, neither aware that the other was also holding a breath; then, he went back in, brushing just a fraction of an inch closer. Naughty boy, she thought to herself, as moisture began to seep out from between her labia and into the fabric.

On his third pass, she said in a soft voice, “I think that’s enough there for now, Henry. Do the other leg.” And he obeyed.

As he applied sunscreen to her other leg, Jasmine said, “it makes your old mum so happy when you take care of her like this, Henry darling. Do you like it?“

“Yeah,” he said, rubbing harder, fingers kneading. “I don’t know what it is about this place, mom... But, I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” She looked back at him over her shoulder.

“I’m sorry for being a shit.” Henry gave his mother a hangdog look. “I know I’m not- I know I don’t help out very much. I know you do everything for me. Did everything for me. But, since we got here...” he groped for the words even as his fingertips dug into her thigh. “I like doing things for you. I like it when you ask me to do things. I makes me feel good, I dunno. Really good.” He took a deep breath. “When we get home, I promise, I’ll keep on taking care of you if you want. Maybe I’ll even take a gap year or something. Would that be okay? Would you like that, mom?“

Jasmine’s body flushed with pleasure and she had to bury her face in her arms again to suppress a sudden wet moan that threatened to burst forth from her core.

“Yes, Henry,” her voice was muffled by her forearm. “That would make mummy very happy indeed. Now keep going, sweetheart. You’re not done yet.” Behind here came the sounds of the sunscreen bottle wheezing out more lotion, and his hands were back on her thighs, heading upwards. “Higher, please.” His slippery fingers slipped across the broad globes of her buttocks; she could feel her son’s fingers trembling as he touched her but tried not to but had to. Jasmine subtly hunched her behind upwards a little, letting the forbidden thrill flood through her. It was one thing in the Heartspring, where nobody could see, but out here, outside under the sun where any guest could come wandering through the gate, the feeling was so much more intense.

“You have to work it in,” Henry heard his mother say in a slightly strangled voice. He could see sweat beginning to appear across her back. Almost too eagerly, he filled his hands with her soft, springy cheeks, kneading and massaging them as he worked the cream into her skin, stopping every now and again to watch them jiggle back into their perfectly round shape.

“You have to get underneath as well,” Jasmine instructed. “I can burn there too if the elastic moves.” Before she’d even finished speaking, his fingers were under the fabric of the briefs, sliding perilously close to the cleft of her ass, occasionally slipping inside once, twice, three times. She gently wriggled her hips, grinding her mons pubis into the chaise eversoslightly. “Pull down the waistband so you can do my tailbone, too.” She felt her son’s shaky hands peeling the top of her bikini bottoms down, down over her hips until they were stretched tight over the crest of her buttocks, exposing her asscrack to the blistering heat of the sun. Henry’s hands laid gently the upper half of ass, and went back to work, massaging, spreading her cheeks just a little, gently encouraging the waistband to migrate ever downwards, and the triangle of fabric below to become looser and looser. He licked his lips, craning his neck forward to look.

“Henry,” she said in a warning tone. “You’re not being...naughty back there, are you?”

He froze. “No, mom, no. I just- I mean it was- I mean I didn’t—”

“It’s okay to be a little naughty,” Jasmine said, feeling an exhilarating rush of power flow through her, knowing she’d caught her son with his hand in the cookie jar, so to speak. “Do you,” she couldn’t believe the words that were pouring out of her mouth, “...do you like my ass, Henry?” He made a strangled noise somewhere in his throat in reply. “I can’t hear you, sweetheart. Tell me. Do you like mummy’s ass?”

“Yes mom,” he said, softly, and the thrill of power that followed made Jasmine feel like she was soaring. For some reason, as she came down from the heights, her first thought was, ‘Rhea would be so proud!’

“Did mummy’s ass make you cum last night, Henry?” He made another noise that wasn’t quite coherent. “It’s okay. You can tell mummy anything.”

“Yes,” he hissed. “I came so hard, mom. I can’t even begin to tell you how hard I came for your as—”

She bit back a mewl of her own. “Henry.” Her voice was ragged and thick with lust. “That’s so dirty, honey. You know you shouldn’t have cum on mummy’s behind, especially without my permission.”

“I’m so sorry,” he protested. “I don’t know what came over me, I just couldn’t stop myself. It felt so good and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it and I don’t—”

“Henry,” she said, sternly. “I think you owe someone an apology.”

“Mom, I said I’m sorry but I’ll say it again and—”

“No, not to me, you dirty little boy,” Jasmine admonished. “Apologize to mummy’s ass. Kiss it and make up.” Without a word, his hands slid from her cheeks to the exaggerated sweep of her hips as he put one knee on the chaise between her legs and bent to close to her behind. Gently, gingerly, he pressed his lips against soft, springy flesh of her left buttock, then murmured something barely audible.

“What do you call that, then?” She asked, pretending to be scandalized, feeling a bit carried away by the forbidden rush, the sensation of power that she suddenly held over her own son. “A kiss on the cheek? You can’t get away with a kiss on the cheek, young man. Get down there and give mummy’s asshole a proper kiss.”

Henry’s big hands spread out over her ass, easily spreading it until the dusky rose-coloured star of her asshole appeared. Mother and son knew that there was nothing more wrong than what was about to happen, and let the wave of forbidden pleasure carry them forward into the act.

“Oh, sweetheart!” Jasmine gasped as she felt his lips touch her virgin hole. “That’s right, darling. Kiss my asshole just like you’d kiss a date. She’s already given you a handjob after all. It’s only fair.” The tip of Henry’s tongue speared the pulsating, waiting sphincter of her behind and began digging inwards. She’d never had anything in there before, not even a fingertip, and now here she was, asking- no, ordering her own son to make out with her asshole. Rhea was right, so right. It felt so good to tell Henry what to do, so right to make him take care of her, and what’s more he did it, without complaint or resistance, but with great relish. This last she realized as she heard the hungry noises he was making as he drove his face deeper into her ass, his wriggling tongue slavering over her clutching hole.

“Yes, yes Henry!” She cried. “Oh honey you make your mum so happy!” The encouragement only drove him to push deeper inside her with his tongue. Resting her head on her forearm, she lay there a while, relishing the sensation. Finally, she said. “That’s enough, Henry. Stop.” He pulled himself away from her, disappointment clearly written across his features.

“Did I do something wrong?” Her son asked, looking like a lost puppy and sitting back on his haunches.

“No sweetheart, you did perfectly.” Jasmine smiled at him as he sat there, panting and watching her. “But now mummy needs you to do something else for her.” She scanned his golden-brown body, eyes coming to rest on the sorely-tested speedos he wore, his massive erection stretching the Lycra to its limits. ”Take off your shorts, Henry.” Without a word, he complied, ripping them down to reveal a towering spire of cockmeat that stood straight out from his body, a thick veiny shaft that pulsed and bobbed in time with his heartbeat. The big pink circumcised head stared at her with its single tiny eye, and winked at her, releasing a dewy drop of precum that spalled down from his cockhead to pool on the chaise between her legs. Her pussy had never felt so...hungry. “Fuck me. Fuck mummy, Henry.”

Frantically, her son grabbed the spit-sodden bikini bottoms hanging loose behind her ass and yanked them down until they hung over her right ankle; then, he grabbed her hips and shimmied himself up the chaise until the thick spongy head of his cock was bullying right up against her leaking pussy.

“Do it you naughty, filthy boy.” She growled. ”Fuck. Mummy.” His weeping cockhead slid easily between the waiting, greasy curtain of her labia, and with a grunt, he was slipping inside his mother’s eager pussy. Henry had never felt a cunt that was so eager and accommodating of his girth; every other girl he’d ever had sex with had been a struggle to get up inside, but Jasmine’s clasping, sucking vagina felt custom-fitted for her son’s cock.

“Henry, you don’t have to be so bloody gentle,” his mother said impatiently, squirming around his thick meat as he slowly worked himself inside of her. “I’m not going to break in half. I’m not one of those stupid little slags from school that you can intimidate with that fucking club between your legs. I told you to fuck your mum and I bloody well meant it. Fuck. ME.” Her face contorted into an animal snarl. Spurred on, Henry drove forward, hard, and there was a resounding smack as his flesh slammed into hers, sending ripples through the thick flesh of her firm, round behind.

“That’s more like it!” She said. “Harder!” Henry began sawing his cock in and out of her pussy, driving his hips into her as hard as he dared, pulling easily on her hips as she pistoned back onto his youthful prick. His sack, heavy and huge, swung like a pendulum with each thrust. Her pussy was a clutching, sucking mouth that rippled around him, slurping up every inch he had to give with a greedy, obscene, wet smack. He quickly found himself nearing his vinegar strokes in the velvety grasp of her cunt.

“Mom,” he gasped. “Mom, I don’t know if I can hold—”

“Don’t you dare cum before me.” She snapped her head back to shoot him a vicious look. Henry’s eyes went wide and he grunted in surprise as his pleasure reached its crest but refused to plummet over the edge for some reason. “Fuck mummy!” Jasmine shouted, mauling one of her own tits. Bending close over her, pressing himself against her back, Henry braced one foot against the pool deck and began to jackhammer her cunt wildly, reaching around to grab her other breast in one big palm that still wasn’t large enough to encompass her voluminous flesh.

“Oh fuck! Mom!” His fingers dug deep into her tit and he hung on for dear life as she rammed herself harder against him.

“Mummy loves your fat cock,” she enthused. “God mummy just loves it! You are such a naughty boy for keeping it from me all this time!” Suddenly stopping midstroke, Jasmine reached back and grabbed his greasy shaft. “This cock is mine, now.” Eyes blazing, she looked up at him over her shoulder. “The only thing this cock is meant for is making your mum happy. Got it?“

“Yes mom,” the admission sent a wave of pleasure through both of them that made Henry’s eyes roll back in his head. “My cock is yours! I’m yours!” He punctuated each word with a thrust into her greedy pussy.

Jasmine laughed throatily. “Good boy! Now,” she slowed the pace of her fucking, clamping her vagina down hard on his shaft, impeding the motion of his cock. “Would you like to do something even worse than fucking your mum?” Henry grunted his assent and she laughed again. “Then why don’t you see if you can fit that big fucking cock up inside mummy’s ass?”

He spread those thick, round, pillowy cheeks again. Jasmine’s pussy had been a custom built socket for his cock, but her itchy, twitchy little asshole was a different matter, even though his saliva still dripped from her sphincter. Henry wedged the greasy head of his cock up against it and began to push.

His mother’s knuckles went white as she held tight to the aluminum frame of the chaise, grinding herself back on his cock as it slowly worked its way inside of her again.

“You filthy, fucking filthy boy!” She grunted the words out. “Look at you, taking mummy’s cherry. Fuck it inside of me, Henry. Fuck that fat cock up inside mummy’s hole!” Suddenly the flared knob popped through the clutching ring of her asshole and she began to laugh wildly. “That’s it! Fuck it in deeper! Stretch my asshole wide!” Slowly, steadily, he fed inch after inch into the tightest, hottest hole he’d ever encountered, until he bottomed out in his mother’s ass. “Oh god! Oh god Henry, it’s so fucking full!” Jasmine was stretched so tight her eyes watered.

He began to pump in and out of his mother’s asshole, forcing strangled grunts right out of her diaphragm each time he bottomed out in her. Jasmine looked back at him over her shoulder, watching that bronze god she called her son helplessly fucking her at her command, lost in a haze of forbidden pleasure, an incoherent animal fucktoy for her to use at her leisure and a loving servant to wait on her, hand and foot. She reached up between her legs and began furiously strumming her clit as he fucked her asshole, letting the surge of power and pleasure flow through her.

If Henry was a god, what did that make her? His balls slapped hard against her sopping wet pussy as he slammed home again. His Queen. The Queen of the gods. The apex of their incestuous little pantheon. Where she belonged.

“Harder!” She barked. The ecstasy borne of absolute power over her son was building, a hard bright light from the core of her being. Nothing in her life had felt so right, so natural as taking her place as Henry’s Queen Goddess; nothing so exciting and sexy as enticing and seducing him into performing forbidden acts of devoted lust. Her son’s hips were ramming into hers in a jackhammer motion that filled the empty pool area with the obscene sounds of incestuous fucking.

“Yes!” She screamed, her voice ragged. “Yes! Yes! YesyesyesyeshenryfuckYES!” Jasmine squeezed and pinched her clit hard as her orgasm overtook her, not stopping the piston action of her hips as she fucked herself on Henry’s plundering cock, riding high on the wave of pure pleasure rocking her plush, diminutive body. “Cum you filthy boy! Cum in mummy’s asshole!” Her voice rose to a crescendo as she issued one last order; Henry’s rose to join it as he began to cum, fucking forward in time with the thick spurts of cum as they erupted from his cock.

“Oh fuck, MOM!” He shouted. “Oh fuck I love you!” At that, another, bigger shockwave of ecstasy rolled through Jasmine’s body, and she lost herself in it, screaming and cumming and clamping down so hard on her son’s cock that he felt she might rip it away at the root, but he felt so good that he didn’t particularly care. The rhythm of their bodies became languorous and lazy as they savoured the lingering shreds of orgasm, his cream churned up into a messy froth that ringed his massive tool.

“Mmmm,” she purred, a lazy smile painted across her sex-sweaty features. “What a good boy. A good, naughty, obedient boy for mummy.” Jasmine wriggled her cup filled ass, and his deflating cock slipped out easily, releasing a torrent of pent up cum.

“Now,” she said. “Finish up my back before I burn. And then go and get me a drink. I’m parched.”

“Yes, mom.” Henry leapt to his feet, splattering spent cream over her legs, and scooped up the forgotten bottle of sunscreen. As he began spreading lotion over her back, Jasmine fell into the happy doze of a satiated Goddess.

[THE PRESENT]

Her fingernails toyed with Henry’s tight black curls as they bobbed between her thighs. She took a long sip from the margarita, savouring the coolness of the slush as her son worked away at her pussy, tongue eagerly lapping up the sweet nectar flowing freely from her well-fucked hole.

Looking down, she saw that the polish on her left toenail had become chipped, probably during their vigorous fuck session in the shower that morning. She’d have to get him to touch it up later. Henry had proved a surprisingly deft hand with a nail brush.

“This is the life, isn’t it sweetheart,” she asked, pushing his mouth harder against her delicate flesh. Henry made a long low groan in the affirmative. She could see that his arm was working away, probably vigorously stroking himself as he pleasured her. Even though she knew he couldn’t cum without her say-so, she’d have to find some pleasant way to punish him for that later.

“Aren’t you glad you extended your gap year? Spending time taking care of your old mum is so much more satisfying than partying with those fools you went to school with, isn’t it?” He nodded, wriggling his tongue as he did, deepening Jasmine’s pleasant sex high.

She closed her eyes and reclined, relishing her son’s well-trained tongue and wondering what other uses she could put his sculpted body to this afternoon. Rhea’s son, manning the swim-up bar, looked on approvingly. Idly, Jasmine wondered if he’d join them when he had a break, knowing that Sean’s could show Henry a thing or two to do with his tongue.

The tattoo of feet beating against the gravel path outside the hedge snapped her out of her reverie. It sounded for all the world like somebody running for his life. She laughed to herself at the ridiculous idea of somebody trying to leave Jocasta’s. What sort of fool tried to escape paradise?

She ground herself against Henry’s mouth as the footsteps retreated into the distance.

What fool indeed?