Incest, Mom and son, A naturist mother and her naked son at a private beach
She believed in things being natural, as it was in nature; but, was what they did at their secret beach a natural sort of activity between a mother and her son?
It was one of those days where the air was perfect. It was the right temperature, the right humidity, a slight breeze, perfect. You know how that feels, when the atmosphere is just exactly at its most comfortable. It is a sensation that makes you want to be nude, shed your clothing and have the air touch every square millimeter of your skin. The senses are alive with a heightened sensuality from experiencing that light touch of air on your whole body; your very pores seem to drink in oxygen and energy.
That must be the way we came out of the trees, but now we are the “naked ape” to use Desmond Morris’ phrase. And so much the better! To have the full contact of air with bare hide, with nothing to hide our epidermis, neither fur nor fabric to hamper our frolic, to stifle our freedom of being uncovered to the elements is certainly the excellence of exposure. That day the air was perfect, sun bright, water cool, stones warm and smooth, the sand soft and fine like sugar.
In their ‘secret beach’ Jenny, and Joey her son, took advantage of the day to be natural. It was a hidden cove that Jenny had come to for many years, though not since her husband had been killed in the war. Now the young widow returned for the first time, at last thinking she could handle the emotions of the memories the shore held. Here they had first made love, her first time too. Here between sheltering rocks they had conceived Joey. Here they had said good-bye before he was shipped off to die, a day of intense passion and racking grief at parting.
Yet Jennifer Dalton thought she could handle it. She had a smile on her face and she knew what a perfect day it was for being a naturist, an interest her spouse had introduced to her and which she joyously embraced. They could not afford an expensive camp on Army pay, but they could borrow a jeep. One day while exploring they had found this hide-away tiny bay, accessible only by an all-terrain vehicle. Where could somebody get one of those back in the forties but from the armed service? Thus jeep-ers (so to speak) were able to hide from the ‘peepers’ in private at this their secret beach.
No trash was ever left nor did any other evidence indicate that others had been there beside themselves. By the end of the millennium the spot was over run; but now, mid-twentieth century, it was isolated and as devoid of humans as any place had been since creation. Here they were Adam and Eve, not in a garden of innocence, but at the shore of knowledge, carnal and otherwise. He had given her an Ankh, the Egyptian cross of eternal life and promised to return. He didn’t mean to break his promise, she forgave him, still she grieved for a more than a year.
Her heart finally could no longer bear the burden of his death and so she had looked to the renewal of life, hers; and his – for in her son she saw the perfect heir. Joey was the splitting image of her husband, David. Jenny could not help but bear up to the responsibility of raising a carbon copy of the man she had loved so totally. This new man, a grown boy, now just turned eighteen, had become her new purpose, the resurrection of her beloved and the being that gave life a vigor and vitality that burst from her like the dawn’s rosy rays.
So she had brought Joey here. It wasn’t that he hadn’t ever been before; but now as an adult, it was time to become acquainted with the naturist tradition his father had shared with her, which she had come to enjoy as well. He would be taught by his mother that it was not just fun to go naked, like running around the bedroom as he had done as a child, waiting for the bath to fill at home; but that it was special to be in the open on a warm, soft, perfect day, outside and nude. Jenny could bear that responsibility to educate her son about being bare. To convey to Joey the raw truth of the matter, that we are born without clothes, that it was natural to be undressed.
Joey loved to come to their secret beach. Kid at heart he relished the rumbling ride across the rough region between road and rocky seaside. There the water was cool, but not cold, the sun heating the shallows to make the temperature of the inlet comfortable much of the time during the summer. The waves were wonderful, but the topology prevented unexpected undertows and discouraged dangerous wild life. The spot was a paradise as his parents had proved.
When he was last here, some time before his dad had died, the whole family had skinny-dipped. At the time he thought it was because they had somehow forgotten their swimsuits. Innocent back then but more knowledgeable now, today he understood from talking with his mom on the way to their special spot, that this was a philosophy of living, a way of life – at least when in private and when here, at their secret beach. Jenny had instructed him that they would leave their clothes at the Land Rover. She had bought the vehicle for practical – as well as sentimental reasons. They disrobed and followed the path down to the isolated beach.
Oh yes Joey knew this was a special moment, the first that they had been back in a long while, since his sire had died under fire. It’d also be the first he and his mom would expose themselves to each other since his pop was killed. He understood it was a rite of passage, even if the term was not consciously thought about. He comprehended that today he would become a ‘naturist’; which his father had believed a birthright of every human being. Nonetheless, Joey was eager to be risqué, to prance on the stones like a monkey, devoid of civilization; to romp with his rump bare-assed and flounce his cocky dick in the salty sea air.
AND SEE HIS MOM NAKED! Jenny might think he was mature enough to distinguish nudity from sexuality, but he was a youth with hot hormones and curious about the female form, reproductively and the fun of playing with the opposite sex and of course intercourse. He would do his best to act grown-up, but the thing most grown was the pointed prow of his peter. He took every chance to steal a glance at his mother’s body at home, not wanting to be too obvious about it. She was beautiful, not like a movie star with a large bust, but like a pretty college girl more his own age rather than ‘old enough to be his mom’. Today he intended to get a gander at her charms without having to be so shy about looking at her body.
Jenny was, in our modern parlance, comfortable in her skin. And comfortable to be only in her skin, even in front of her son. She didn’t mind him looking at her; the youngster had to learn about females sometime. Nor did she mind looking at the image of what her hubby must have appeared to be like as a teen. Joey’s erection didn’t bother her; it was a natural reaction to being out in the open, with the draft across his fluff covered balls and cute tush. He was only being male, after all. Jenny liked males, and she loved the memory of her husband, her lover reincarnate in their son.
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