Unspoken Pleasure

She touched the back wall and broke through the surface. I followed. She shook her head, made a wuh sound, and swam away from me. Once again, I watched her slip through the water, my eyes finding her thong as it cupped her crack, and then her gusset as it cradled her wet pussy. Jesus Christ, but Mom had to know that I wasn’t going to just beat off after this when I had Jenna offering her juicy clam to me.

I followed Mom back to the shallow end of the pool, my dick swinging in my shorts. Every kick of my feet and twist of my body sent a buzz through my cock. My dick wanted pussy. My mind wanted pussy. Fuck, my soul wanted pussy, and it wanted it right then.

“I think it’s time for some sun,” Mom said, standing in the shallow end with the water lapping around her thighs. I didn’t hide my gaze this time, looking down her dripping wet body and focusing on the triangle of cloth that left the softness of her outer labia uncovered. “Don’t you?”

“In a second,” I said, hidden up to my waist beneath the water’s surface. “I just”–my heart thumped, creating a hollow boom within my chest that I was aware of but too excited to feel–“want to watch you get out of the pool.”

Mom’s eyes widened, and she seemed a little taken aback, but then she smiled with a kind of gotcha quality to her lips. She turned around and walked toward the steps, her ass and thigh gap holding my cock’s attention. I just wanted to be between her thighs.

Eighteen-year-olds weren’t meant to be virgins, not when women–adult, fucking women–who shined like my mother were teasing them.

Mom walked around the front of the pool, her body dripping and her hair plastered to her body, its light, bright color at odds with her golden skin. I loved it. The sides of her almost-little tits jiggled, bouncing just enough to make my blood pump. Her body was the picture of classically toned slenderness not influenced by today’s Instagram-fit girls or the pre-woke, skinny-girl chic, runway models, and it made every nerve ending through my flesh buzz with adrenaline.

Mom grabbed her towel, drying herself off with long sweeps of the terry cloth. She dried her arms and legs with pushing motions, turning her body so that whatever side she was drying was turned away from me, giving my eyes the freedom to roam over her skin without shame. Mom finished, put on her sunglasses and visor, threading her hair through its headband, and she sat down on her lounge chair. She lay down as the sun beat down on her. She lay with her legs slightly spread and her bikini panties cupping the tender folds between her legs. I could see the faintest impression of them, and I oh-so-badly wanted to touch them.

I walked to the edge of the pool–staring. After a minute of this, when Mom spread her legs further apart, I pressed my cock against the side of the pool, nearly coming. I wasn’t about to hump the wall, but I wanted to. Instead, I bent my knees and dropped beneath the water, placing my hands on the lege and pushing myself underwater. I held my breath until a fire burned within my lungs and my throat convulsed–my heart speeding up for another reason. I did this until my erection softened enough not to hurt when I walked, and then I sprang out of the pool, no longer thinking about what I was doing as I walked to my lounge chair.

My towel found its way into my hands, and I dried myself off, taking my time as I stared down at my mother. Was she looking up at me through her sunglasses? She had the hint of a smile on her lips, and her breathing was far from mellow. Her slim stomach rolled downward and up, her breasts rising and falling with them, her nipples reaching heavenward with unashamed stiffness. Could she feel my eyes on her–even if she wasn’t looking at me?

“Pass me my tanning oil,” Mom whispered. “I think I could use just a bit more color, don’t you?”

“Sure,” I said, bending over and picking up the bottle of oil.

Mom didn’t need more color. She had perfect skin, from its flawless complexion to the sun-cooked gold of her tan, but who was I to argue?

“Mom,” I said, my voice shaking, “I can put it on for you.”

Mom’s smile straightened, and I saw her swallow as time slowed. The movement of her throat seemed exaggerated, and it cascaded down her breast, her stomach lowering and rising as well.

“That’s okay,” Mom said. “I can do it. Why don’t you sit down and enjoy yourself.”

I licked my lips and said, “I think I’m going to go see Jenna,” in a quiet, almost guilty tone.

Time stopped.

I heard the wind and the static-like rustle of leaves blowing in the breeze. The sun moved, its rays growing hotter as it curved through the air, and then a chill hit me, and I shivered despite the heat.

“Okay,” Mom whispered.

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“Okay, what?” I asked in a whisper of breath.

“Okay, you can put the oil on me,” Mom said in a tone that matched mine. “My back first.”

My shorts moved outward as my cock grew, and Mom’s chin tilted down, her eyes staring a straight line toward my growing bulge. She froze for a moment, her breathing heavy, and then she rolled to her right, away from my cock, and turned onto her stomach. She turned her head away from me, crossing her arms beneath her cheek, and she laid her head across her small forearms.