Chapter 7: Introspection

We checked into our hotel in Jandia after a flight that I had indeed slept through – actually we all did, still feeling the exhaustion from the wild night before. The room was nothing much to write home about. It was a typical tourist hotel, but the beautiful beach and the fantastic weather more than made up for it. Considering that it was late October and still thirty degrees centigrade, it certainly reminded me of Pasadena. Heck, it was even better than Pasadena.

Jenny had noticed that something was bothering me and she'd decided that while she would check out the local shops, I should spend some time with mom.

We'd gotten ourselves a rental car – a Suzuki something that looked like an open-top SUV that's been washed too hot a few times. We headed south through Morro Jable and then turned off the paved road towards Puerto de la Cruz at the southern tip of Fuerteventura. I'd done my homework of course. We had to drive about eight miles along a dirt path through a desert-like no man's land until we arrived at the estate we'd bought. The sign above the main entrance said something in Spanish I presumed, but half of it was covered in rust. Just looking from the outside I knew we'd probably need all of the seventeen million bucks that were currently gathering dust in our bank account. I opened the big gate, which wasn't easy as its hinges were as rusty as the sign.

Mom drove the car in and joined me in taking a first look at our newest purchase. The buildings were typical sixties design tourist silos, but at least they looked structurally sound. Instead of starting to inspect them – we'd do that with Jenny the next day – we headed straight to the only place that wouldn't need enhancing – the beach.

I guess for mom it had become somewhat second nature that clothes were optional, so as soon as she had laid out a few beach blankets she stripped down to nothing. This time I did the same and after we'd covered our naked bodies with sun cream, I took mom's hand to take a walk.

"Mom, I'm getting a bit worried," I said. "I know dad was a bore between the sheets, but lately I'm getting a bit worried about your, let's say, extreme ideas. I probably have to take some of the blame, having encouraged you..."

"I'm overshooting the target, aren't I?"

"I'm afraid so," I agreed. "I'm fifteen and I've done more things between the sheets than most people twice my age. Don't get me wrong. I love to make love to you and I'm the happiest guy in the world that you and Jenny go naked most of the time to please me, but frankly mom, the best sex we'd ever had was not me raping your ass or you role-playing as a perpetually horny maid. It was the slow tender love we made in the kitchen. The one that's now being shown as a picture series on your website."

Having said my bit, we continued in silence. I could tell mom was thinking hard about something.

"I think I should undergo that hormone treatment," mom said pensively after we'd walked silently for about five minutes. "I can't say I didn't like exploring new things, but I think you are true. I'm on the way to seriously mess up my body. I think that whole Sex Olympics thing was a hormone-induced flight of fancy."

"And you thought you'd need to keep me entertained, didn't you," I said. I may be wrong, but somehow I think you've still not overcome your insecurities and you think you need to invent something new, something even kinkier, every now and then to keep me interested."

I didn't know if I had hit the target or hurt her. What I did know was that I had said something that had impacted mom, because I could see her cry. It wasn't all-out bawling, but tears were silently running down her face.

"I'm so afraid to lose you, sweetie," mom admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "I love it when you smile to yourself when I go naked for you. You always make me feel so good about myself. But there's always the nagging fear that one day you'll grow bored with me. I'm not getting younger."

"Do you really peg me as such a shallow jerk, mom?"

Her eyes went wide in surprise when she heard my clearly disappointed reply.

"I didn't ... Oh, sweetie, I'm sorry..."

I took the beach towel I'd been carrying around my neck and put it on the ground. It was just big enough so that we could sit down and face each other without having to fear we'd end up with sand in our asses.

"Mom, it's obvious that you haven't worked through all your problems, so when we go back to Germany I want you to make an appointment with Dr. Schröder. This time you should also tell him about us. I understand it'll not be easy, but he needs to know about it to help you properly."

"What if he demands of me to break off what we have?"

"If that's what's needed to cure your problems, so be it," I declared, putting a brave face to it despite the heartbreak I felt. "I'm not going to lie. I'll always love you as my mother, but I also love you as a woman, and I do so with all my heart. But if I'm an obstacle for you overcoming your problems, I'll accept the broken heart."

Mom was properly crying by now and clutched me close to her chest.

I had tried to put a brave face to it, but it all hit me full force during the night. I was sitting on the balcony of our hotel room in the middle of the still warm night, trying to blink back the tears that threatened to fall from my eyes. My look was empty and directed straight at the ocean.

"Tell me what happened?"

I hadn't even noticed that Jenny had come out to look for me. Since we'd all been in bed already, she was stark naked. That obviously didn't concern her as she sat down in my lap, facing me.

I told her about the talk with mom and the possible implications.

"That was a very selfless thing to do," Jenny said once I'd finished my explanation and she kissed me gently.

"Selfless maybe," I sighed. "You see, on paper I should be hoping he'll convince her to break off any intimate relations with me. We'd no longer be breaking any taboos and you'd have me to yourself. But..."

"Ronny, I don't want you to myself," Jenny said, surprising me. "What would happen if I did? I'd have half a boyfriend. You aren't complete without your mom. You wouldn't be the same anymore."

"I was complete without mom when we met," I argued.

Jenny snorted softly.

"No you weren't. All you ever told me about your life in America was all about your mom. You always paced the room like a caged tiger for two hours before your weekly Skype chat. I think you've always been in love with her, you merely didn't admit it to yourself. What happened when you came back, your dad running away, your mom in bad condition – that all just forced you to show your love in full. I think it has always been there."

"I can't bear the thought of losing her," I said and lost the fight against my tears. Jenny embraced me and pulled me against her small chest.

"You won't lose her, sweetie," she whispered and kissed my tears away. "Your idea was good, but it has a flaw. Not your mom needs to see Dr. Schröder, we all need to, together. He needs to know what our life is like and if he can't understand that he'd be healing her back to an incomplete life unless we're all part of it, he's not the right one to ask for help."

The rest of the week went past very quickly. We'd inspected the estate again and Jenny had a whole host of ideas about how to turn the drab concrete silos into something that people would actually want to spend their holidays in. The only redeeming feature of the sixties brutalism buildings was that walls could be knocked out almost at will without endangering the structural integrity of the building, which would help with creating theme-rooms by merging several hotel rooms into one large chamber.

Jenny had requested the schematics of all buildings and spent most of the week planning the new layout. She could have done so once back in Germany, but it didn't take a rocket scientist to work out that she wanted mom and me to spend as much time as possible on reassuring each other that we'd not lose anyone from this complex love triangle.

Most of the days we made slow tender love on the beach of the estate, just how I loved it, although twice mom asked that I do so through the backdoor. That was just fine with me. I loved mom's taut ass. What I didn't love was the idea of her trying to be impaled by objects the size of a milk-truck, and she never mentioned any of her crazier ideas again.

For the moment, those memories had to be pushed back though as Jenny had just finished explaining the events of the last six months to Dr. Schröder. He spoke better English than most Americans I know, but Jenny had decided to explain in German, thinking that in their native language she could make him understand every nuance of our complex relationships. Once she was finished, Dr. Schröder sorted through the notes he'd made for several minutes. For mom's and my sake he addressed us in English.

"The development of incestuous relations between mother and son is not as uncommon as most people think, but in most cases it is a very temporary development. However in your case, I can see that it has progressed to a stage of seriousness that exceeds most of such examples."

Mom blushed a little and my cheeks where heating up as well. Jenny took my hand to reassure me.

"From a medical point of view, I would strongly suggest that you are protected at all times and do not engage in any attempts at procreation. The risk of genetic defects would be too high. From a social point of view, it is not my business to judge and the information you gave me is covered by doctor-patient-confidentiality.

"Thank you doctor," we all said in almost perfect unison.

"If I'm allowed to be this forthright. When you told me about your ... business endeavors Mrs. Caruthers, I acquired a membership. Observing the various publications has allowed me to observe your psychological development, although, as a man, I'm not shy to admit that the sheer beauty of the work – and the model – have made the professional interest a mere fringe benefit."

Now mom was bushing an alarming shade of crimson. The doctor seemed to ignore her predicament.

"Again, speaking as a doctor, your apparent self-esteem issues are mostly misplaced. Strictly scientifically, your aging process is behind the curve, so to speak. Considering that you have gone through a pregnancy, you seem to have suffered very little physical decline. I suppose you are undergoing a strict fitness regime?"

Mom nodded. "After ... well after finding me wasted out of my skull, Mark made me go to the gym regularly. These days we have one at home, and I never stopped working out."

"From a medical point of view I can only encourage you to continue your work-outs. They are the best measure to delay physical decline," the doctor said, making another note. "We will need to work on your self-esteem issues and I would like to include Mark and Jenny once in a while. An intimate relationship between three people is complex but not unheard of. As a psychologist I also work as a relationship counselor on a voluntary basis. Believe me, your constellation is by far not the most unusual I have encountered."

Jenny couldn't suppress an amused snort.

"As for your everyday life," the doctor continued. "As Jenny has explained, you and she seem to have substantial exhibitionist tendencies. There is nothing wrong with that, especially as Mark seems to appreciate that quite a lot."

My cheeks felt like I was about to go aflame at any moment.

"As long as any ... exposure happens in the sanctity of your home, I would even encourage it – it obviously helps overcoming your insecurities, but since you are concerned about the physical decline of your body, I would suggest you wear at least an open-cupped bra. This would help supporting your bust and delay the loss of elasticity of skin and tissue."

"She has lots of them," Jenny said with a giggle.

"I would advise you do the same, Jenny. You might think your bust is smaller and therefore less prone to decline. At age fifteen that may well be the case, but in ten to fifteen years you might be grateful for having taken good care of your body from an early age. Many women avoid wearing bras because they find them to be uncomfortable. At age thirty they regret it when gravity had had a whole decade to work on their unsupported breasts."

"Point taken, doctor," Jenny said as if she was a soldier answering an order.

"We will schedule a weekly session," Dr. Schröder told us. "For the moment I'd suggest that you do not change your daily routines. They seem to work well. I will let you know whenever Jenny or Mark are needed to attend."

Mom came back with many open-cupped bras in 32A for Jenny. Just because Dr. Schröder had spoken to us like adults, didn't mean we were allowed to enter the sex shop where mom had procured all the goodies for the night before our trip to Fuerteventura.

When we got home, both of them quickly disappeared into the bedroom and came back out wearing "uniform" - garter belts, open-cupped bra and thigh-highs, nothing else. Today was the blue period, apparently. I certainly wasn't going to complain.

"Make love to her, slowly and gently," Jenny whispered in my ear while mom was busy preparing dinner.