As the ferry ploughed on through the fog, Nate's phone buzzed again. He slipped it out of his jacket pocket; the second-to-last bar winked out, as they had been doing steadily since departing from the terminal.
Jessie: i miss u
He thumbed past the lock.
i miss u too. i can't believe i have to do this.
Jessie:its ok. just try to have a good time!!!! :-)
middle of nowhere. not even any signal out here :-( this place better have wifi. i'll text u when i get there.
Message not delivered. No bars. Nate cursed quietly.
"Yours not working either?" His mom, Marie, poked her head over his shoulder. "I told your dad I'd call him when we got there. I guess we'll have to wait until we hit the room." She sniffed. "Not that he cares."
Nate bit his tongue and inhaled. It was going to be a long two weeks if he was going to have to listen to her complain about his dad the whole damn time. He looked around the boat; a couple of the other passengers, all of them couples or single women his mother's age, were tucking phones away in purses or suitcases. At nineteen, he was almost definitely the youngest occupant of the boat. The ferry's pilot was at least three times his age, a greying sinewy hippie of a woman with beaded hair, a tie-dye broomstick skirt and an enormous bubble vest in safety orange.
A dim light at the end of a dock-shaped shadow rose up through the mist. People began picking up their luggage, and the pilot throttled the engine down to a dull putter. A few steel radials hanging over the side of the hull scraped against the dock as she bounced to a stop.
"I cannot believe I let you talk me into this." He shouldered his pack.
"Look at it this way," Marie said, "you and Jessie are going to be gone to Cuba the day after we get back, then it's off to college and I won't see you again until Thanksgiving or Christmas. I'm sorry I didn't win a trip to somewhere a bit more fabulous, and I'm sorry your dad's a dickhead who couldn't be bothered to put in the time off to come, but maybe we should just make the best of it? Okay?"
"Okay, sure." Nate hopped onto the dock, and gave his mom a hand as she made the jump herself. The other passengers filed over on the gangplank. They all clustered around a sign:
JOCASTA'S PLAYGROUND RESORT AND SPA
RECEPTION AND GUEST SUITES 30M -->
CAFE 45M -->
<-- SEASIDE OVERLOOK 10M
WELCOME, ENJOY AND LOSE YOURSELF
The mist swallowed up their footsteps as the group sauntered off to the right, a looming treeline almost visible in the distance. The website's promo shots had promised an island of primeval Pacific forest and kilometers well-groomed hiking paths. Almost none of this was visible. What Nate did notice was a change in the air: it was warmer now, sweeter almost. He took a deep breath, and for the first time since leaving the house this morning, he felt better. It was hard to put a finger on, but he felt more at ease or relaxed or something. Nothing like good, clean, fresh air.
A few of the other passengers spoke together in hushed tones, some of the couples walking hand-in-hand, everybody huddled up in parkas or raincoats in the wet grey. Ahead of them, chimes tinkled and soon a warm square of light appeared in the mist. Eager to find relief from the chill, Nate and his mom quickened their pace, her long stride easily matching his.
The passage from dank grey afternoon across the threshold of the spa was like walking out of a shadow and into sunlight. The lobby of the spa was bathed in warm light from amber pots overhead, illuminating a wide, open space flanked on one side by a modern reception desk and on the opposite side by an enormous statue resembling the Willendorf Venus set in a natural grotto. Opposite the entrance, a set of floor-to-ceiling windows looked out on a huge garden.
The air in here was even sweeter than it had been outside somehow, and Nate was immediately very warm in his jacket. Before he had time to process this, he heard the approaching sound of heels on hardwood.
"Oh my darlings," said a lyrical female voice. "You're all so wet. What a simply miserable day to arrive! Let's get you checked in on to your suites at once." The approaching woman was a statuesque blonde, with a mane of loose curls shot through with the odd streak of grey; she was wrapped up in a loose white labcoat and wide beige palazzo pants underneath. No amount of loose fabric, however, could hide the dramatic curves of her bosom and trim waist as she strode towards the group of damp travelers. The left breast of her jacket bore a nametag that read "Madeline," and what Nate assumed to be the logo of the place: a black circle with a pair of red figures inscribed within, in the style of a Greek urn -- the pneumatic motion underneath the labcoat made it hard to discern what the figures were doing, exactly, but they seemed entwined. He had only a few seconds to take it all in as his eyes were drawn upwards to her mouth, pink and pouty and frosted in a thick layer of gloss. Madeline was a well-preserved woman of middle-age, but she was shockingly beautiful nonetheless.
"I see some of our regulars have returned at last," she strode between Nate and his mother in a cloud of perfume and into the crowd. "Katherine it's so good to see you again! It's been simply ages. And I see you've brought Jeffrey, your fine young man." She clasped the hands of a couple close to her chest, then released them dramatically. "But I'm keep you all. Go, go! Get out of these wet things and explore!" She waved them on to the reception desk; as they walked away, Nate looked back and saw her speaking to Katherine and Jeffery. He hadn't noticed before, but Jeffery looked at least ten years younger than his wife.
"Hey, stop staring, Romeo." Marie hissed in his ear. "You've got a girl at home, remember? Besides, she looks older than I am." He blushed hard.
"Sorry mom," Nate mumbled as they queued up for the reception desk.
The woman behind the desk was a petite, older brunette with mischievous green eyes, and a black lab coat in the same style as Madeline's, only this one bore a white patch. There was only one figure on the patch, a woman's head, depicted in the same Grecian style.
"Hi," the receptionist said in a smoky voice, "my name is Ronnie; welcome to Jocasta's Playground. Are you two first timers here?"
Nate and Marie shared a look. "Yes," she said. "I won a trip through ModernMommy.com; I didn't even know I'd entered!"
"Oh good," Ronnie said. "You must be Marie and Nate Whitby! We always like to expand our little family circle." She looked down at her screen. "It looks like your suite is all set up; you two are in the Lilith. Here's your key, and a list of services we provide here at Jocasta's. Of course for you, everything will be comped for the duration of your stay." A keycard slid across the desk, tucked inside a brochure. Her fingernails, trimmed short, bore a fine sheen of mother-of-pearl; the oilslick colours seemed to almost swirl in the light. Nate didn't even realize how intently he was watching them until she slid her hand back under the desk.
"Comped?" Marie asked.
"Compensated for. It's all free for you guys," Ronnie winked conspiratorially. Marie gave the brochure a quick once-over and nodded appreciatively. "Now if you'll just follow me, I'll show you up. It's a bit of a maze, I'm afraid."
"What about our bags?" Nate asked.
"Oh, don't worry about it." Ronnie shook her head. "I'll get Barry to bring them up." She knocked on the door of the office behind her, and a tall, very well-muscled young man in his early twenties opened it. He was wearing a tight white T-shirt and a pair of loose white gym pants. "Barry honey, be a dear and bring these bags up to the Lilith suite, will you?" She patted him on the cheek, and Barry's blandly handsome face lit up with a smile.
"Sure thing, mom." The tall young porter bounded around the desk and scooped up Marie and Nate's luggage. He headed off in long, powerful strides, and vanished down the corridor.
Ronnie shook her head.
"He's a a good boy," she said. "But maybe a little too eager. This way, guys." Ronnie walked around the edge of the desk: below the hem of the short coat, Ronnie wore a pair of smoky-grey yoga leggings that flowed through every curve and muscle in her legs, obviously the work of many hours in a squat rack. A tiny version of the logo on her jacket flashed on the back if her left calf as she walked. A pair of black spa sandals slapped against her bare feet as her toenails, painted in the same mother-of-pearl as her fingers, glistened wetly. Nate found himself staring again, and was a little disappointed as she passed by. He wasn't so disappointed that he failed to appreciate the sway and bob of her labcoat as Ronnie led them down the corridor, the hem bouncing just below her buttocks. Every now and again, he was treated to a hint of her curvy behind. Maybe this wasn't going to be such a terrible vacation after all.
His reverie was broken by a sharp elbow in the side.
"Do you mind?" Marie hissed in his ear. "I realize you're a walking sack of hormones, but can you at least try to keep your eyes in your head while I'm around? You can do what you want on your own damn time."
"Sorry mom," he muttered.
Meanwhile, Ronnie was explaining the purpose of the rooms they were passing, unheeded. The walls were largely floor-to-ceiling glass panels, those on the left showing the mist-shrouded forest, the ones on the right largely frosted to obscure what was going on within; occasionally someone would emerge from a sliding door marked "Yoga Grotto" or "Massage" or similar, breathing hard and coated in a sheen of sweat, in a fluffy white spa robe or some flavour of athletic gear.
"Coming up here on the right is the centrepiece of Jocasta's -- the natural hotsprings." Ronnie waved at a frosted door. The title read 'Heartspring.' "Go ahead, take a peek."
Marie and Nate shared a look, and she pulled the door open. A rush of warm, wet air flooded the corridor.
"Holy shit," Nate said.
Sunk deep into the floor of the resort, the Heartspring sat neatly in a natural pool some thirty feet long and ten across. 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.
"Nobody knows exactly why the water looks this way," Ronnie spoke softly behind them. "But it's a stunning sight, wouldn't you say?"
"Yeah." Marie replied.
Nate just stared. Not at the water, though. At the far end of the pool, a couple snuggled in the corner, very obviously making out. The woman wore a long shock of silver hair, while her partner was some decades younger.
"We should probably let them have their privacy, hey?" Ronnie intruded on Nate's thoughts. "It's a popular spot for pairs to relax after a long day of detoxing or enjoying some of our more ... strenuous ... pastimes." They let the door slide shut, and followed the receptionist onward into the depths of the resort.
The way wasn't as labyrinthine as first described, but it was quite a walk; it was another five or ten minutes before they reached their suite.
"Here you are, guys." Ronnie winked at them, as she keyed the lock and slid the door open. "Enjoy yourselves, now."
The "suite" was an enormous, open-concept room in hardwood panelling and glass, with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the darkened forest. An overstuffed cream-coloured couch was turned towards a modern-looking fireplace, where a shimmering, gas-fed flame rippled.
"Holy crap, it's not exactly long on privacy." Marie gestured at the steel and glass-enclosure that was the room's only bathroom, including a shower with an array of heads and separate inset tub that looked large enough to accommodate a Roman orgy.
"Mom," Nate pointed. "Look at that." A king-sized bed beckoned from a pedestal three steps up from the floor. All around it and on the bedside tables that flanked it, candles burned, filling the room with the same warm, sweet aroma he'd detected outside. Music played in the background, barely audible. "Why didn't you ask for a double room?"
"I thought I did." Marie scratched her head. "Get your stuff settled, and I'll call down to the front desk. Where the hell is the phone, anyway?"
"Sure." He dropped his knapsack and stretched, overcome by a sudden drowsiness. The bed looked so big ... so comfortable. Nate climbed the steps, and from somewhere he heard a phone ringing. It didn't seem very important, though. Not while the bed was there, all crisp clean white sheets and thick, luxurious pillows. He hoisted himself up onto it, feeling the springiness of the mattress, embracing him like a warm hug from a loved one.
He was asleep before his head hit the pillow.
"Nate? Nate honey?" A hand nudged his shoulder. "Are you planning to wake up today, or what?"
"I'm up, I'm up!" Groggily, Nate pushed the hand away, and cracked an eye. Marie loomed over him, grinning impishly, her ash-blonde hair a tousled halo around her head; the crazily-looping locks and slight blush in her cheek gave his mother that freshly-fucked look he'd seen on his girlfriend. Nate felt a sudden surge of guilt at the thought of Jessie, though he couldn't put his finger on why.
Marie was wearing a white tank-top and loose matching pants in some flowing cottony fabric; the Jocasta name and logo were stitched out in rhinestones across the front of the tank, sparkling in the bright daylight flooding the suite. Still sleepy, Nate watched them shimmer as she shook him again, eyes tracing the contours of her breasts; her posture and the skimpy shirt made them impossible to ignore, and ... was that a hint of pink he could see through the fabric?
"Waaaaaake uuuuuppp," Marie laughed, giving him one last shake before crawling off the bed.
"Shit, sorry mom," Nate struggled to sit up in the bed. "Sorry. I must have passed right out last night."
"Don't worry about it, hon." She said. "You slept like a log all night, but you missed all the excitement."
"Excitement?" He was wide awake now. "What excitement."
"See for yourself," Marie jerked a thumb over her shoulder. Their bags stood in a jumble near the door. "That dumbass who was supposed to bring our bags up last night rammed them into a cart of massage oils instead and ruined just about everything. All my clothes, most of your stuff, everything."
"Holy fuck!" Nate rolled off the bed and strode over to the luggage. His bag squelched loudly when he touched it.
"The spa said they'd pay to replace everything, but for now, they've given us free reign in the proshop."
"Awesome." He said.
"Anyway, I'm going to go take a shower. I don't know if you want to run down there to pick up some extra clothes or what -- I doubt you want to be in here while I'm naked." Marie gestured at the highly-visible-from-every-corner-of-the-suite shower cubicle and waggled her eyebrows.
"Oh, right." Nate stood, suddenly very aware of his sweaty, slept-in clothes. "I guess I'll be back in..."
"Twenty minutes!" He said.
"Good boy!" Marie enthused, and turned to walk into the 'bathroom.' He noticed that the seam of her pants had crawled in between her buttocks, defining her meaty behind as it jiggled slightly and twitched back and forth. Jessie's was so much skinnier, and flat besid-
"See ya!" Nate shouted, and hurried out the door.
Even following the signs on the walls, it took him at least ten minutes just to get back down to the lobby, winding his way through the labyrinthine corridors. Everywhere, it seemed, couples strolled through the spa, lingered in half-empty function rooms, or cuddled up in the occasional nook hidden throughout.
Taking a hard left, Nate almost walked into a pair quietly occupying a bench overlooking the fogged-in Pacific Northwest forest. They both wore thick, fleecy robes emblazoned with the Jocasta logo, and the woman at least wore very little else; the robe was pulled back over one long, bare thigh, exposing her up to the upper curve of her hip, and the loose vee revealed a deep, succulent cleavage. The man was lying back with his head in her lap while she stroked his hair. He was so suddenly astounded by the sheer volume of exposed female flesh that he it took a moment for him to recognize Katherine and Jeffery, who had come over on the ferry with him the night before.
Ducking quickly back around the corner, Nate couldn't help but peer at them, reflecting that Jeffrey was a lucky dude. He really hadn't noticed Katherine the night before, but the morning light was apparently very flattering for her: hair that had been lank and damp the night before had unfurled and curled out into a thick chestnut halo around her face; her eyes twinkled in the grey light from the window, and plush sensuous lips made love to each whispered word she spoke to Jeffrey. She looked like an absolute goddess, to be frank, and that was before he even took into consideration the smooth ivory of her leg or the swell of her breasts under the thick terry robe.
Long fingers toyed with Jeffrey's hair, and she laughed a low and smoky chuckle.
Once again, Nate noticed how much younger he was than she -- ten years at least, though she looked so radiant somehow it was hard to pin down how much, really -- but they made it look so natural; an experienced, older woman taking a young man in hand, guiding him, teaching him, making him her loyal pup-
Nate shook his head. What was he thinking? Where the hell had that come from?
Looking over, he saw that Jeffrey had rolled over onto his stomach; he was kissing the flawless skin of Katherine's thigh as she curled her fingers in his hair, and she was saying something to him that Nate couldn't catch; he responded, and Nate's breath caught in his throat.
Shifting slightly in the seat, Katherine spread the robe further, pushing Jeffrey's head between her legs; her hips lifted, drowning the young man in her firm flesh as both hands held his face still. Low, wet moans filled the cubicle, but Nate was no longer there to watch. He'd backed away and walked as quickly and quietly as he could down the corridor, head spinning, sure he hadn't seen what he thought he'd seen. It wasn't possible. It was crazy. He was no lip reader any damn way.
There was no way Jeffrey had called her "MOM" before finding his way between her legs.
It was a considerable relief to finally make it to the 'proshop' -- really just a capacious gift-shop near the entrance -- if only because his surprisingly persistent erection made it difficult to walk with any speed away from Katherine and Jeffrey's tryst. Here, at least, he could hide among the clothes racks while it subsided.
Even if everything down here was comped for them as well, it wouldn't do him much good. He flipped through another rack of sports bras, each with a rhinestone logo printed over the left breast.
"Nathaniel, honey?" A voice quietly asked behind him. "Did Marie let you get away?" He wheeled around to see Ronnie's impish green eyes looking up at him from under the fringe of her pixie-cut, only an inch or two away. Somehow her lips looked extra pink and slick this morning, and Nate was very aware that the white tank she was wearing under her black labcoat did a dismal job of concealing the hard, firm swells of her small breasts, unbound and apparently unaffected by gravity.
"I'm surprised she'd let you out of her sight, a strapping young man like you," her eyes raked him up and down and she smiled hungrily. "There are all all kinds of unsavory characters out here who might prey on a-"
"Hey mom, I got it," Barry stumbled in through the stockroom door, carrying a cardboard box half again his own size. He dropped it on the floor unceremoniously, and Ronnie turned to chide him loudly. Nate heaved a sigh of relief, and quickly moved to put the sports bras between them.
"Now then, Nathaniel," she turned back towards him. "Is there something I can do for you?"
"Oh, uh, well all of our stuff got kinda ruined when your son sort of, well-" Nate gestured and made a face. Ronnie shot a look over her shoulder, and Barry gave the floor a hangdog look. "So I need new stuff to wear while we're here, but it's all, I mean it's, you know." He pulled a bra off the rack and shook it.
"I see I see," she nodded. "We do have a ... limited selection of menswear, but I'm sure you'll like it. It's very comfortable. Barry wears it all the time." The look she gave her son this time was one of appraisal. "Don't you, sweetiebear?"
"Yep!" Barry grinned. "It's real stretchy n soft!"
"Over here," Ronnie strode over to a single rack on the far side of the store, near the back; Nate followed. From one side of the rack hung a dozen or so pairs of black pants; from the other, white t-shirts. She plucked one of each from the rack and handed them to Nate. "Here, Nathaniel. These look about your size. You go ahead and get changed." She indicated a changing room. "And I'll take your old stuff down to the laundry room to get cleaned."
"Take it?" Nate asked. "Uh, I don't think that's a good idea. I'd rather keep my-"
"Take it." Ronnie said, firmly. The words sounded like doors slamming shut, and he found he was suddenly unwilling to argue.
"Sure," he said, and took the clothes from her. She gave him a wink.
Well, Barry's endorsement certainly turned out to be true - the loose-fitting jersey of the pants was luxuriously, decadently soft. After sliding them up his legs, Nate decided on a whim to freeball it, and whipped them off to toss his underwear on the unsightly pile of sweaty stuff on the floor. The tee was similar, if more fitted than he usually liked -- his swimmer's body was much more prominent than usual -- but the fabric just felt so good.
Nate was so distracted by the clothes that he didn't even see Ronnie's hand slip under the door to filch his old stuff.
"How's it going in there?" She called through the door.
"Great! It's a good fit!"
"See? I told you. Come on out whenever you're ready!"
Padding back out into the store in bare feet, Nate found Ronnie and her son conversing quietly behind the counter. At least, it looked like they were conversing; hugging, really, though Ronnie's hands roamed across Barry's broad back.
"Hey, uh, I'm gonna take these if that's okay?" Nate watched Ronnie's fingers dig deep into her son's back, then let go. When they peeled themselves apart, she looked flushed. Barry didn't even turn around, just headed into the backroom.
"Of course that's okay, Nathaniel." Ronnie said, and motioned for him to come closer. "Just give me the tags so I can ring it through."
Her fingers lingered a moment in his palm as she took them.
"Did you want to grab something for Marie while you're down here?"
Nate looked around helplessly. "I'm really not sure where I'd even start."
"With basics, honey." Ronnie said. "Fundamentals." She winked at him, and out from behind the sales counter. She swept back the tails of her cardigan and stood with her hands on her hips. Ronnie's tank top hewed closely to her compact, obviously-sculpted body, from the firm-but-small handfuls of her breasts to her six-pack rack of abdominal muscles. He could even see the knot of a bellybutton ring protruding through the white cotton, but the stiff peaks of her nipples drew his eyes upwards.
"For example, how's she fixed for pants? Every girl needs a couple pairs of basic leggings these days, and I'm sure she doesn't want to wear those pyjamas we sent up last night. Now, take these-" she gestured at her legs. The burgundy leggings she'd been poured into came to just below the knee, showing off the thick plates of her calves and the corded muscle of her thighs. "They're made out of a material similar to your pants, so they're super soft and extra comfy. Why, I practically live in these things! Why don't you come here and feel for yourself?"
"That's probably not-"
"Come here. And feel. For yourself." Again, somehow every word was like a door slamming shut in his brain. It couldn't hurt, really, could it? He had to see for himself. For his mom.
Nate stepped forward, only vaguely aware of the erection slowly unfurling in his pants.
Ronnie took his hand in both of hers and gently laid it on her thigh. It was warm. So warm. And firm. His fingers squeezed a little, reflexively. She squeezed something and the flesh underneath his hand became like steel. The thin skein of fabric was stretched tight, into a smooth layer that was almost hard to keep a hold of, but was so luxurious and soft to the touch that Nate kept having to readjust his grip, just to touch it slightly longer.
"Feels good, doesn't it? They've got just a little bit of sheen, but they're completely opaque. No matter how close you get, you'd never be able to see through them."
"No?" Nate said, distracted.
"Not at all. Here." She turned around, and suddenly the twin globes of her ass were pointing right at him, thick and muscular and begging for his outstretched hand. Ronnie slowly began to bend at the waist. "Why don't you get a little closer and see-"
Barry barged back in through the stockroom door. "Hey mom! Was that long enough?" Nate's hand shot back and she stood up, a petulant look on her face.
"Yeah, just send some of those up, I guess?" Nate's face was flushed as he backed away from Ronnie, very much awake now and very aware of how large the other young man loomed in the doorway. "I'll just head on up. Maybe mom can come down herself? Thanks for all your help!" This last was shouted as the shop door closed behind him.
He returned to the room in a fraction of the time it took him to get to the lobby in the first place, motivated not a little by the prodigious erection that refused to behave itself; the soft fabric of the pants didn't help much, gently caressing the shaft as he walked, thick head straining against the front.
Nate had just worked it around to a less embarrassing position -- hand firmly in pocket, holding it down -- when he scuttled back into the suite.
"There you are!" Marie said, hands on her hips. "I was starting to wonder if you'd died out there." She was wearing a thick white robe, much like Katherine's had been. Had hers been so abbreviated? Had his mom's legs always been so long?
Marie shook her hair out of the towel it was wrapped in, giving it a gentle shake and then a vigorous rub.
"Is that what they gave you at the shop?" She said, padding over. "Lookin' good, handsome. Jessie's going to love it when she sees you in that."
"Aw, mom." A flood of shame washed through Nate at the thought of his girlfriend. Marie's arm slid over his shoulders and gave him a squeeze. Her hand lingered, gently fingering the fabric of the t-shirt.
"Ohmigod, Nate. It's soooo soft." She giggled. "I hope the women's stuff feels just as good." He tried not to think about the feel of Ronnie's thigh in his hand. "If not, I might just have to steal this from you." She leaned in closer, and he was suddenly enveloped in a perfumey cloud.
"Oh, phew honey. You might look scrumptious, but you smell like a locker room. Go and wash up, please." Marie pushed him away playfully. The warmth of her arm over his shoulders lingered for a short while.
"Yeah, sure." He started stripping off his t-shirt, then turned to Marie. "Uh, aren't you gonna ... you know..." Nate nodded at the door.
"Don't be silly, sweetie. I've still got to dry my hair and make myself presentable before I can go out there, and you need to wash something awful." She strode up into the bathroom, smooth inner thigh flashing with each step, and started rummaging through the vanity drawers for a hair dryer. Nate looked away as the hem of her robe rose perilously high. "Besides, it's nothing I haven't seen before."
"Mom, come on." He protested. "I'm nineteen. It's not-"
"Appropriate?" She bent over a little further, to search the lowest drawer. He stared at the ceiling, pointedly not looking, even if he could still kinda see a little something in his peripheral vision.
"I'll tell you what, honey." Marie gave a little cry of triumph and pulled the dryer out, then turned to face him. "You take a shower, and I'll turn my back. I won't see a thing, I promise."
"Scout's honor, Nate." She put one hand on her breast and saluted with the other. "Or is it the other way around?" She switched hands. The front of her robe gradually fell into disarray, revealing an ever-deepening vee of plush boobflesh.
"Alright, alright, alright." He quickly strode past her, pulling off his shirt. Starting the shower, he didn't yank his pants down until he heard the dryer start. Looking over, he saw Marie was standing on the other side of the suite by a window, giving her hair the once-over and watching the last wisps of fog burning away in the sunlight over the forest. He heaved a sigh of relief, and, feeling safer than he had in an hour or so, stepped inside the glass shower cube.
It was still soapy and damp from Marie's shower, and the smell of whatever she'd used to wash was much more powerful here. A wall-mounted soap dispenser dripped with a pearlescent substance. He thought briefly about going back out to his bag to get his own shampoo and stuff, but it just smelled so ... good in here. Comforting, kinda. Warm. A little bit spicy, a little bit something else. He reached over and pumped a quarter-sized dollop into his hand.
The label on the soap dispenser read: "CRAFTED here at Jocasta's Playground from an ancient mixture of local herbs and minerals found only in our very own Heartspring, FRIGG's TEARS is a unique, deep-cleansing aromatherapy shampoo and body wash designed to relax and enhance your stay with us here at the Playground. Lather up, breathe deep, and enjoy yourself!"
Nate looked down at the puddle of goop in his palm, and smeared it across his stomach, lean and muscular from half a decade leading the school swim team. The lather was thick and vaguely silky and rewarded him with a burst of that smell. A smile lazily crept across his face, and the muscles in his shoulders relaxed. He let out a deep breath and felt the worries that had knotted up his stomach all morning untie themselves.
He worked in the soap, building up a good creamy coat across his midsection, just relishing the feel. It was smooth and buttery and good to touch, much like Ronnie's thigh had been.
Nate closed his eyes and thought of her, hand scrubbing downwards. He pumped out a second squirt of soap, and began washing around his cock, which had never quite deflated, though it was slightly soft and floppy. With a second burst of the FRIGG's TEARS perfume, it thickened almost immediately, standing to attention as he wrapped his soapy fist around his member. It felt fatter than it ever had before, somehow, fit to explode.
Slowly working his cock, the image of Ronnie's thigh, the feel of it under his hand, the thick, sculpted roundness of her ass, barely contained within the confines of her pants, kept rolling through Nate's head. He was working up such a lather around his stiff pole that he almost didn't catch the sound of somebody knocking on the suite door.
Painfully aware of the commanding view of the shower that was offered by virtually every corner of the room, Nate whipped around to face the rear wall and stood stock still, hoping that the steam on the glass would at least offer some coverage of his naked ass.
Outside the cubicle, he heard the hair dryer shut off. Then,
"Oh! Barry, isn't it?"
"Yeah. Mom said Nathaniel left some stuff for you at the store, and said I should bring it up."
"Well isn't that lovely?" Marie trilled while Nate silently cursed Barry (not for the first time). "Thank you, Barry. Do I owe you anything or..."
"Nono, Mom says it's all on the house since I wrecked your stuff. Sorry about that."
"Don't worry about it; these things happen." The door clicked shut. "Nathaniel Whitby! I never would have thought you had it in you to pick out clothes for your old mom. Thank you so much, honey."
"Uh, no problem. The lady at the store helped a lot." He wondered whether Ronnie had included a pair of the leggings she'd insisted he feel. Nate reached over and got another squirt of the body wash. Quickly checking over his shoulder to make sure that his mother wasn't looking, as per her promise, he started scrubbing again, and was rewarded with another relaxing burst of scent. It wasn't very long afterwards that his hand began wandering southwards again.
This time, he resolved, he'd think of his girlfriend, who'd fueled more than one shower fantasy. Jessie was a lissome blonde no taller than Ronnie, but half her size nonetheless. Skinny, really. Rail-thin, like her legs, which had nothing on Ronnie's muscled sculptures or Katharine's long, ivory columns and plush thighs.
Nate shook his head and tried to focus, working himself a bit harder. His dick refused to respond much further than half-mast. Every time he tried to picture Jessie in his head, he kept comparing her to somebody else, and she kept coming up short for some reason. Even that cute little butt (that she'd promised he could have when he got back from this enforced vacation) seemed pinched and ... flat, really, once you got down to it, if you compared it to Ronnie's or even his-
He cast another look over his shoulder, making sure his mother wasn't watching. Marie had upended a bag onto the couch, and was sifting through the pile of clothing, making noises of approval. Turning back around, he gave his cock another shot of the soap and just let his mind wander.
"Do you like them?" Jessie asked in his imagination, wearing the burgundy leggings Barry's mother had been showing off. He couldn't shake the feeling that her legs looked kind of like grape pixie stix in them.
"Touch them. See for yourself." She turned around, and suddenly he was looking at Ronnie's thickly muscled globes. "Just get a little closer, they're completely opaque."
In the shower, his cock came surging back to life.
His fingers sank deeply into warm, luscious flesh. "That's it, honey." Looking up, he saw Katherine's face, smiling down at him. "It feels good, doesn't it?" Her behind was plush but firm and inviting. "Try getting on your knees, sweetie."
Imagination Nate knelt as she turned around in his hands. The leggings were suddenly gone and he was staring at a bare pussy, dripping with excitement. Where Jessie's was a small, discrete peach between her legs, Katherine's had fully blossomed, fat labia framing deep scarlet, swollen inner lips beneath a neatly trimmed triangle of hair. It looked like nothing less than a decadently sweet fruit, just begging him to taste. Her hand settled on the back of his head, and pushed him forward. "Just how it was meant to be, honey."
In the shower, his cock gently pulsed precum over his fist.
"Ohhh, Nate, these are just divine." Opening his eyes, he glanced back. Still facing away from the shower, Marie was pulling a pair of black yoga pants into place, just tugging the waistband up over the upper curve of her ass. It bobbed gently with each pull, firm flesh jiggling under the smooth black spandex, but springing immediately back into shape.
His balls jumped and contracted, and a thick plume of cum splashed against the back wall of the shower cubicle. Nate grunted despite himself as the orgasm swept through him, pumping out what felt like a gallon of sperm as his fist continued stroking it out. It wasn't until the final spurt dribbled over his knuckles that the shame overtook the afterglow, and he frantically tried to wipe the thick goo from the glass and encourage it into the drain.
"Nate? Are you alright in there?" Marie knocked on the door. He couldn't bring himself to turn around. "You've been in there a while."
"Yup! Just finishing up!" He quickly dispensed another squirt of FRIGG'S TEARS and washed his hair. Less than a minute later, he was out, vigorously towelling himself off and avoiding eye contact with his mother.
"Honey, these leggings are beautiful. I could just live in them. And so many colours! Thank you so much!" Marie hugged him from behind.
"No problem, mom. The lady at the shop helped, like I said." He shrugged her off. "Can I get dressed now?"
"Well, I appreciate the sentiment, anyway." She laughed. "But you might have thought about picking up some underwear."
Nate yanked his pants up and hauled his shirt on, trying not to think too hard about that comment.
Marie had changed into a loose white tunic that draped over her chest in a clingy jersey cotton. It was high-necked but there was no disguising the prodigious swells of her breasts, or the peaks of her nipples. The hem fell to mid-thigh and Nate thanked whomever was watching over him for small miracles.
"So, I'm going to a class for eleven o'clock, but after that, did you want to get out and explore the island for a bit?" She said, sitting on the couch indian-style and tugging the hem of her shirt over her knees.
"Yeah, sure. What kind of class is it?"
"Some kind of meditation class or something," she pulled a brochure from between the couch cushions and opened it. "It's called Finding your Voice - Discovering the Goddess Within. It's only an hour or so; then maybe we'll go get some lunch or something?"
"Okay. Do you know where my phone is? I thought maybe I'd text Jess while you're gone." He cast about, suddenly worried that maybe he'd left it in the jeans Ronnie had sent down to the laundry.
"No reception here, remember? It's a retreat."
"Ah fuck. Is there a phone in the room?"
"Probably, if you can find it." She gestured at the windows and scant furniture. "It might be in a drawer somewhere, but I haven't seen one. There's not even a TV here, Nate. You might have some luck at the reception desk." Nate had somewhat mixed feelings about asking Ronnie for a phone to call Jessie.
Marie shrugged. "I was thinking -- maybe it's not a bad thing if we don't call home so much? It's not like your dad gave enough of a shit to come in the first place, and quite frankly, I think you and Jessie could probably cool it a bit. I don't want to end up the first grandmother among my friends. I'm only 40."
"Mom! That's ridiculous! We're going to Cuba-"
"Nate," Marie used her best mom-voice. "We'll talk about it later, okay?"
"Fine, whatever." He folded his arms. "Maybe I'll hit the pool or something."