Jenny was, in our modern parlance, comfortable in her skin. And comfortable to be only in her skin, even in front of her son. She didn’t mind him looking at her; the youngster had to learn about females sometime. Nor did she mind looking at the image of what her hubby must have appeared to be like as a teen. Joey’s erection didn’t bother her; it was a natural reaction to being out in the open, with the draft across his fluff covered balls and cute tush. He was only being male, after all. Jenny liked males, and she loved the memory of her husband, her lover reincarnate in their son.
It was okay with her that her breasts were smaller than the voluptuous cover-girls. David had taught her not only NOT to be self-conscious about her physical self – but to be aware that her physical attributes WERE just as attractive as any other gal. She knew that her nipples had just as many nerve endings as the big busted bathing beauties in the magazines. She had a flat tummy many women her age would give a tiara for, and it was crowned with a magnificent bush she trimmed to keep from being too tangled. Her navel was a setting for a jewel and her hips the slender girlish figure so many ladies lost with middle age.
She wore the looped cross of eternal youth, the Ankh, ancient pagan symbol of everlasting life, draped from her neck so that it hung directly over her heart, as a reminder of her connection with the male virility that made this place special in her life. It stood too, in her mind for the female fecundity that gave birth to the offspring of Jenny’s and David’s union, the youth with prick now proudly piking toward the blue sky. It was all natural, the way it was when humans were first coming to understand their place in nature and how the world was also changed by the forces of creation and life. Pregnant Venus figures appeared as early art and were venerated as the mother-earth goddess back then, nude statues of fertility.
Jenny felt a connection with that primitive sense of being one with the natural world when she was naked – no – nude. As she had explained to Joey on the way to the seascape of serene privacy and secluded sensuality, being nude was being natural, unclothed and innocent. Nakedness was naughty, Adam and Eve had realized they were naked after having tasted the apple. Before they were simply nude like the animals, but when lust came into the world and sin entered peoples’ hearts, then divesting of modesty was associated with animal behavior – indiscriminate appetites for all things lascivious and licentious.
Joey had the hots for his mom and almost any nice looking gal for that matter, but especially for his mother because she was so lonely since his father had left. Now they were here once more at their secret beach, alone, nude – well she was, but he was naked – and he knew the difference. He was unsure how he could take away the pain, but if it was to be in a physical sense, there would be no better time than this day to do it. No wonder he had a stiffy, and his mother made no pretense of not seeing it, in fact she gazed at it longingly, as if she was looking at an old photo of his father.