I was excited, as this trip had many firsts: This was the first time I was leaving the country. This was the first time I was going to see an ocean. And this was the first time I was joining my mom on her business trip.

Mom, who was a manager at a high-end furnishings company, traveled a lot for business trips, but I never got to be with her on those visits. This time, after three days of meetings and networking in the capital city, she had booked a hotel room for five days on an island, where I was going.

After an 8-hour flight, the plane finally landed. Thankfully, immigration didn’t take too long, and I reached the hotel without any trouble. Mom, who had arrived less than two hours ago, was already waiting for me in the lobby. We went to the room, and as she asked me about the trip, I looked around, checked the bathroom, and went out to the balcony. Some tourists were lounging at the pool below.

“Do you want to sleep or go outside and have a look?” she asked me.

“No, let’s go. I want to see the place. It’s only 6 pm.”

Since the hotel was on a street famous and infamous for its nightlife, many bars and restaurants were opening. We took one whole round of the street and then headed to the beach. The first thing that caught my attention was the sound of waves. I had never heard it and was immediately riveted by it. I just stood there and watched the waves hit the shore. Though there were many people there, it wasn’t crowded.

I folded the legs of my jeans to my knees, took off my shoes, and began walking at the edge of the shore. I didn’t go further into the water as I didn’t want my jeans to get wet. Mom didn’t have to worry much about that, as she was in shorts.

Mom bought two ice creams, and we sat down under an umbrella. I noticed that some women were wearing only bikini bottoms, nothing on top. Though it wasn’t a topless beach, I guessed it was allowed.

Around seven or eight feet away from us, a blonde woman with big breasts was sitting topless with two teenage kids, a boy and a girl. Mom and I watched her. There were also a lot of hawkers selling all kinds of things, such as beads, tops, and massage services.

We stayed there for nearly two hours and then went to a seafood restaurant for dinner. From the restaurant, we came back to the hotel room. Mom did some office work, and I took a shower and lay down with my eyes closed as I wanted to rest before heading out again.

When we got out of the hotel, the street was bustling. There were rows and rows of bars, with all playing pulsating music, and nearly all were like temporary structures with no walls and roofs that weren’t built of permanent materials. In some bars, girls in tight tops and short shorts were dancing on tables.

Some were standing on the curb with menu cards and asking tourists to try their bar. There were also some young men, probably in their early 20s, who were asking men whether they wanted girls. It was in every sense a totally new world for me.

We saw some empty chairs in one of the roadside bars and quickly grabbed them. Mom ordered a beer and a margarita.

“You can drink, it’s allowed here,” she said, sliding the beer to me.

Letting me, an 18-year-old guy, drink in a bar was another first for me.

Taking the beer, I looked around the bar. The girls behind the counter were somewhat dressed conservatively, but all the girls serving customers were in tight tops or tops with deep necks and short shorts. Some girls were standing very close to a few guys and probably trying to convince them to have a “good time” with them.

We just sat there watching young men hawk girls to tourists, girls hawking themselves to men, and bar workers hawking drinks. Everybody was hawking something.

Around an hour later, a tourist, probably in her mid-20s, got on a table and started shaking her hips and feet perfectly to the music. Her eyes were closed, her blonde hair open, and her head was keeping pace with the beats. Mom and I began watching her in fascination.

Twenty minutes in, her face was red, and her forehead was covered with sweat. She took off her top and threw it to her friends, who were cheering her on, and kept dancing in a bra and jeans.

After dancing for nearly 40 minutes, she stopped and lay down on the table on her back, with her feet dangling from the table. She was breathing fast, her chest was heaving with each breath, and her entire body was drenched in sweat. Everybody at the bar began clapping.

When she went back to her friends, Mom called a waitress and told her to deliver a bottle of champagne to the girl’s table. The girl lifted her glass and thanked Mom. We stayed for 30 minutes more and came back to our hotel room.

I changed into a top and pajamas, Mom into a top and shorts, and we went to sleep, with me on one side of the bed and her on the other side.

In the morning, after breakfast in the hotel, we went back to the beach. Unlike yesterday, it was cloudy. I immediately took off my jeans and top and headed to the water. I started jumping up and down in the water like a child. I was standing in the water when I saw Mom walking toward me. We swam, dunked our heads, and watched the water hit our bodies.

Coming out of the water, we grabbed our towels, dried ourselves, and sat down on sun loungers. I was gazing at women, especially the topless ones, while Mom, who was in a two-piece bikini, was drinking coconut water from a coconut, when a man came and asked her if she wanted to buy beads.

She asked him to show her the beads. He sat down near her and began taking them out of his bag. She tried a couple of wrist beads. Then he showed her a longer one. She stood up and put one around her waist.

“How is it?”

I gazed at her bare stomach and replied, “It looks lovely.”

The man took out more and said, “This is a set of seven. Each chain is made of glass, and all are in multicolor.”

Mom took the set from him and asked the price. She kept looking at the multicolored beads because she wasn’t sure.

“They look beautiful,” I stated.

“Try them,” the man urged her.

She tied them around her waist, but the man, who was peering at her naked stomach and hips, told her to push them down, so now the first four chains were on her waist and the rest across her bikini bottom.

He then showed her neck beads. Mom put a small necklace made of beads around her neck. He looked at her and gave her a longer one.

“This will look better on you,” he suggested.

Mom put it on, and he wasn’t wrong. It was somewhat shaped like a tie with a small knot in the middle, and the tail was sitting in the center of her voluptuous boobs.

“This looks beautiful,” he commented, watching Mom’s breasts and the tail between her half-naked cleavage.

“It looks lovely,” I added.

“Take a photo and let me see,” she said.

So I took a photo of her 39-year-old body in the two-piece bikini, wearing beads on her neck, wrist, and hips. She looked at the photo and decided to buy them and some more for her friends. When the man left, she put all of them in a plastic bag.

A little later, we went once more into the water and, after I had finished eating an ice cream, we put on our clothes and walked back to the room for a quick shower.

From there, we rented mopeds and decided to explore the island. We returned to the hotel late in the evening. This time, we picked a different bar to listen to music and enjoy a couple of drinks.

In the morning, we again rented two mopeds and headed to a beach that was a little far from the hotel. There weren’t that many tourists or hawkers. I stripped down to underwear and waited as Mom took off her jeans and top. Mom was donning that bead necklace.

As we walked to the water, I said, “Why are you wearing that?”

“Natalie bought it for me. You remember I went shopping with her last week. She gave me this and another one as a present,” she answered, referring to her friend.

“Doesn’t it look nice?”

Though I wanted to shout that the thong was making her firm and smooth ass look extremely sexy, I replied in a flat voice that it was nice. After staying in the water for about 30 minutes, we went back to our sun loungers.

“Please take a photo. I want to send it to Natalie, to let her see how it looks.”

I took my cell phone out and clicked a picture of her whole body from the front and then from behind.

Whether we were in a mall, a restaurant, or anywhere, I always saw men checking her out. I hated that, but there wasn’t much I could do. Out here also, I saw some men ogling at her long bare legs and her half-naked boobs.

She was lying on her back on the chair with one knee raised when a mid-20s man came and asked her if she wanted a massage. She asked him what kind of massage he offered. He said anything from feet only to full body. She asked me if I wanted it. I said no.

After asking him some more questions and then thinking about it, she decided that she wanted it. He asked us to follow him. On the way, I stopped at a shop and grabbed six beers.

About 50 feet from the beach, there was a structure standing on four wooden poles. It had no walls and only a wooden roof. He opened a sling bag, laid out a rug on the sand, and then a bright white sheet on the rug. He asked Mom to lie down on her stomach on the sheet. I understood why he brought us here. There was much more privacy.

He asked Mom if she wanted him to focus on a certain area. Mom shook her head. He told her he would start slowly, and she can tell him if he’s applying too much pressure or if she’s feeling uncomfortable.

Kneeling down on the sand beside Mom, he started with her feet. Slowly, he shifted to her knees. After rubbing her knees, he opened her legs and sat down between them. His hands moved up. He began caressing and kneading from her knees right up to the thong’s waistband.

As Mom lay there with her eyes closed, he ran his hands all over her smooth thighs and her tight ass. I was sitting opposite her face and drinking a beer on a plastic chair.

“Your girlfriend is very beautiful,” he remarked as he slowly dragged his hands from her thighs to her ass cheeks and pressed his hands tightly into her ass cheeks.

He repeated this process four times.

“He’s not...” Mom tried to speak, but I cut her off.

“My friends also say that. She’s enjoying the massage,” I interjected.

Mom opened her eyes and glared at me. I winked at her.

“Can you open this?” he tapped her bra strap with his index finger.

Mom undid her bra, took off the bead necklace, and closed her eyes again.

Still kneeling between her legs, he began massaging her back, right from her waist to her neck. He was pressing her back with all his weight. As his hands touched every inch of her back, I rubbed my thumb and index together and signaled to him that I’d pay him more if he massaged Mom’s side boobs. He shook his head, signaling that he won’t. I again rubbed my thumb and index finger.

His hands slid down her waist toward her chest, with his fingers slipping the bra straps off her back so they fell onto the sheets, and he ran his fingers on her side boobs. Seeing no reaction from her, he slid his fingers along her side boobs again in one seamless motion.

With her lying on her back, her weight was squeezing her big breasts, making them pop out. She knew that I could see her side boobs, but she did not attempt to hide them. He touched her tits four more times.

The masseur then told her to turn around and lie on her back. She brought her hands behind her back to clasp her bra, but he told her to leave it as it is for now. She cupped her bra with her hands, turned around, and closed her blue eyes.

He lifted her right leg and, placing it on his shoulder, he ran both his hands all the way from her feet to her groin, just narrowly avoiding touching her pussy. He then dragged his hands with his fingers tightly gripping her smooth skin from her groin to her feet. He repeated the same process twice more before spreading her legs straight on the sheet and getting up.

He knelt down opposite me beside her stomach. He started to gently caress her stomach, especially her belly button area.

While he was doing that, I asked, “How did you start this work?”

“My family has been doing this for generations. I’ve been doing it since I was 14 or 15. This is what we do.”

“Man, you are lucky,” I sighed.

He simply smiled when he heard that.

“Why is he lucky? This is work. Do you think he’s doing it for fun?” Mom queried, staring at me.

Ignoring her, I continued my questioning.

“Do you get weird requests? I mean, what’s the weirdest thing someone has asked?”

“It depends on customers. Some people want long sessions because their doctor has suggested it. Some people, especially families, call me to their hotel because they prefer privacy.”

“Families also call you?” I exclaimed in surprise.

“It’s not what you think,” Mom interjected.

“No, no, not that. Some people want their whole body massages, some only their feet. Some couples want a massage together, but the man wants a female masseur, so I would call my wife or my mother. A woman came with her daughter and son-in-law, and she wanted her son-in-law to learn how to give a good massage.

“My wife tried to teach him, but he was very hesitant. He didn’t want to be touched anywhere. His wife and mother-in-law would be there on the massage tables in my house in their birthday suits as I massaged them, and he would be in jeans and a shirt. It took my wife five days to convince him to take off his boxer shorts. My wife kept telling him that she had been a masseuse for years, that she had massaged many men. She was taught by her father, who is considered one of the best masseurs here. Then she practiced under my father. Finally, on the fifth day, he lay down with them in the buff.”

“Were you also not wearing anything?” I wondered.

“We go by whatever the customer wants. They wanted us to be au naturel, so we were. The next time he came, he had shed all his inhibitions and was massaging each and every part of his mother-in-law. She was very happy.”

“Who taught you?” Mom queried.

“My mother and my eldest sister. My sister now runs her own massage and spa center in Brookesfield.” (Brookesfield was the national capital.)

He was now massaging just above Mom’s groin, with his thumbs on the waistband of her thong. I thought about asking him to put his thumbs inside the thong, but didn’t, as I knew he wouldn’t do it, and she would kill him if he did that.