Mum/Son Chess Tournament Ch. 11

They woke, tangled in their sticky clothes, quite early in the afternoon. "Plenty of time to visit the nude beach," said JoAnne, rubbing her sopping wet pussyfur against his limp penis as she hugged him again, "Give me a chance to see the quality of meat at this resort, and see if these old bones," she hugged him again, longer this time, "Are enough to provoke some teenage boners!"

"Still have to change into appropriate clothes for the walk there," Chesi stretched and climbed out of bed, finally stepping out of his trousers, "Swim trunks and an Hawai'ian shirt?"

"Mmm-hmm," said JoAnne, pulling her dress off over her head without even bothering to unbutton it and kicking away her sandals and the panties still twined around one ankle, "I'll put on a boring tight one-piece swimsuit and let all the little boys enjoy watching me peel it off." She reached behind her back to unhook her brassière, letting her breasts tumble out.

Of course they took a quick shower first, and JoAnne brushed her teeth, minty freshness cleaning away the musky smell of teenage chessmaster semen on her tongue.

With sunglasses and a beach bag with towels and cocoanut-oil sunscreen, they headed straight for the "clothing optional" area of the resort's beach.

The entrance to the fenced-off area was a festive arch of vines and pink and white flowers twining through a lattice of dark wood. A pale woman with very short hair sat in a folding chair beside it, wearing a T-shirt with the Bronzeville Resort logo: a figure walking out of the surf, scaled like a mermaid, but with legs, carrying an old-fashioned suitcase. The figure's hat nestled between her breasts.

"Welcome to our clothing optional beach," she said with a smile, pointing to the big sign that said exactly that, "Got to give you the standard warning that while you don't HAVE to go totally natural, there are plenty of people here who are and if it makes you uncomfortable seeing that or," she gave a long look at JoAnne's cameltoe, the two modest hills clearly visible at her crotch just below the heart-shaped outline of her pubic hair, "or if it makes you uncomfortable other people having intimate knowledge of you, well, you've been warned!"

"Why thank you," JoAnne said cheerfully, "I'm sure we'll enjoy ourselves."

"Of course," the woman said as they walked through the arch, and then, to Chesi "If you do choose to go natural, be sure to keep track of your clothes, because if that scrumptious pair of swim trunks of yours get lost in the sand, or blown away by a gust of wind, you'll have to find something else to cover up the family jewels before heading back to your bungalow!"

The way she said it gave no doubt that she'd have purely adored to see those jewels proudly on display as he walked off the beach!

Except for swimsuits or, rather, the lack of them, the beach was much like any other tourist spot: sunbathers sprawled out on blankets, big colourful umbrellas planted in the sand, people swimming, throwing frisbees, building sand castles, sitting in folding chairs reading paperbacks. One couple was sitting cross-legged, their attentions fixed on a portable chess set on the blanket between them. JoAnne and Chesi thought they recognized two of the competitors from that morning.

Another couple, an athletic young man Chesi's age and a slim, grey-haired woman a few centimetres taller, were putting on sunscreen. That is, she was standing, legs apart and arms up, so he could run slippery hands over every centimetre of her skin below her neck (she did her face).

Except before she did her face, she carefully rubbed sunscreen inside the triangle of tan lines that marked the space between her thighs, below her navel. Chesi tried to avoid staring, wondering what the boy would do. But the boy's fingers, traveling everywhere, did no more than brush the top of the stripe of her grey pubic hair.

He did seem to enjoy massaging sunscreen into her breasts; several cocks around her rose, showing the boys looking in her direction enjoyed watching the massage too. They were small and sagged, though they sagged less when she held her arms up, but they were soft and warm.

When it was the boy's turn, he followed her lead and put sunscreen on his face himself. She went to work on him everywhere else. The women watching enjoyed that, while the boys enjoyed the sight of her bending down to reach his thighs and calves.

They walked on a bit, down closer to the water line, where JoAnne decided they should drop their beach towel (and their clothes). Chesi suspected -- no, knew for a certainty! -- that JoAnne wanted to be in view of two superb young male specimens applying oil under the attentive gaze of a 50ish woman wearing nothing but mirrored sunglasses and expensive Vagabond strap-sandals.

The first thing that struck Chesi was that the boys were SO different from the woman watching them. She was big and fleshy, from her lips, which she licked from time to time as she watched her boys, to her breasts to her meaty thighs. Her dark brown hair hung down her back in a long braid. Her skin was sun-browned as dark as her hair, (even darker in her substantial cleavage) except for two ghostly triangles around her erect nipples and one framing her untrimmed pubic bush, the hair matching her braid, only it was gloriously curly.

The boys, on the other hand, were young and slim, straight black hair and light caramel skin, as if they belonged in a little village in Tahiti or Samoa or Fiji. Not the slightest evidence of tan lines, almost as if they'd never worn clothes in their lives.

One was on his back on a big, white towel, wearing nothing but sunglasses (not mirrored). JoAnne's eyes were drawn to his chest, clearly defined muscles glistening with oil, small nipples so dark they were almost black. The other was leaning over him, massaging oil into the boy's legs, slowly moving up from his calves to his knees to his thighs. As they watched, his hands went to the boy's genitals, which were little-boy hairless and smooth -- indeed, there was no hair on either boy's body south of their eyebrows!

But as he worked the oil into the skin, stretching, pulling, stroking, they all saw there was nothing little-boy about the boy's growing erection, or the way the boy's chest rose and fell more quickly as his penis stiffened and the head emerged from its foreskin.

Just before it seemed the boy was about to explode, sending up his ball-draining fountain of healthy teenage semen for all the admiring middle-aged women who were eagerly watching, the woman in mirrored sunglasses spoke up. "Don't you think it's about time to turn him over?" she said in an American accent, almost, but not quite scolding them.

The boys hurried to obey, despite the difficulty of lying face-down with a penis that, though a bit below average in size, was now at near-climax stiffness. He squirmed a bit, eventually finding a comfortable position -- he had to remove his sunglasses and close his eyes before laying his head down -- and the other boy leaned over him to rub oil on his back. He moved carefully, to keep his own erection from bumping the boy's thighs or buttocks as he did so. His buttocks flexed delightfully with every motion as he worked.

By the time his hands had made their way down to the small of the boy's back, the boy had spread his legs out as far as they would go, separating his buttocks to make it easier to hold them and squeeze them. As he kneaded the smooth honey-coloured skin, pushing his thumbs into the cleft between the cheeks, Chesi could see the boy's anus slowly rising open and closed with the rhythm of his breathing.

"Do you think they're gay?" Chesi whispered to JoAnne.

"The first time a boy is pleasured anally by another boy's penis," JoAnne answered dreamily, "That is indeed a special occasion!" Then she shook her head, as if to clear it of cobwebs, "C'mon, help me get out of this," she pulled at the shoulder pieces of her swimsuit, "For some reason, I feel the need for you to get some suntan oil on me now."