DISCLAIMER: The following story contains scenes of nudity and sexual congress involving such themes as femdom, mind control, and incest. If these are not to your particular tastes, I suggest you look elsewhere. Comments and criticism are always welcome, but any of either that suggests you ignored this disclaimer will be likewise ignored.
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 hot spring 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
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?"
.... There is more of this story ...