Julian is on the webcam with Julia.
Julian excitedly, "Darling, the travel and accommodation bookings are confirmed."
"Brilliant!"
"I'll email the travel documents to you shortly."
"Perfect! Cheers for making all the arrangements."
"Oh, by the way, I was killing time at the mall near my hotel after work yesterday. I couldn't help but buy two Wicked Weasels for you. Awesome designs. I just know they'll look good on you."
"What are they?"
"The first is a high-cut, high-waisted one-piece. I know jet black is your fave colour."
"Just exactly how high is the cut? I hope the design doesn't expose my mons too much?"
"Wait a sec. I will show you the swimsuits."
Julian steps away from his webcam. He returns with two pieces of apparel.
"Here! This is the one-piece."
"Nice! But, I really can't tell about the high-cut fit, and the gusset cover. It does look bold."
"You'll look fine."
"Can I see the other swimsuit?"
"This is the top."
"Oh! A summery yellow bandeau. I do like the subtle bandeau twist. Nice!"
"I've a thing for strapless bandeaus. Unlike classic triangle tops, they exude vulnerability. And the twist accentuates the cleavage."
"Hmm... and the bottom?"
"Oh my god! You didn't say it's a thong!"
"Did I not? Well, I did say it's a Wicked Weasel."
"Oh my god! No way! You'll have to return it. It's utterly obscene. For goodness sake, I'm sixty!"
"You'll look fine. Where we're going, nobody knows us. Blissful anonymity. You can wear whatever. Even go nude."
Adamantly, "You'll have to return it."
"Sorry, the shop has a no-return policy. Hygiene reasons."
"Hmmm... are you making this up?"
"It's six weeks to our departure. There is time enough for me to courier the swimsuits to you to try them."
"Darling, you do whatever. I'm not wearing them. Never in public anyway."
Julian reckons that better this be a discussion for another day. They move on to other matters.
***
A week later. Another webcam. They talk about this and that. The chat meanders...
"Have you received the Wicked Weasels? They should be delivered today."
"Give me a sec. I'll check the postbox."
Julia returns to the webcam with a small parcel in hand. She unboxes the package.
"Can you try them on?"
"No"
"Humour me? Please?"
"Hmmm... seeing that you've been away from the warm comforts of home for some weeks now, starved of your regular domestic rations, I've to feed your jollies."
Julian emits a male sigh. Julia goes off screen. A rustling of fabric.
Julia is still off-screen. But, her voice comes on.
"I can't show you the one-piece."
"But why?"
"It's lewd. Vulgar."
"Show me..."
"No"
"I'm your husband. There's nothing I haven't seen. So what if I see you in a high-cut one-piece."
Julia steps sheepishly in front of the webcam. She looks up to the ceiling as if fixated on a fly.
Julian knows her pert breasts, their shape, their rise, their fall, their form. And now, they are so lovingly encased in the strapless twist of the one-piece top.
He gazes south. The high-waisted cut accentuates her mound. The gusset covers up to just half of her pout of outer labia ridge. And then bracketed generously by womanly hips. Her rip curl of luxuriant thicket is a tamed wilderness. Soft, sheeny, mossy. Against the jet black swimsuit, it is as if it is the lacy edge of the gusset. And yet, not.
"Darling, you're a vision of loveliness. A little hirsute maintenance and you'll be presentable."
"Are you out of your feverish mind? Can you not see that half your wife's lips are on show for the world to see?"
Julia tries to stretch her gusset to conceal more of her womanhood. But, the fabric snaps back with a vengeance, into an even more economical g-string strip, lodged into her fissure of cleft. The strip, so obscured by her thatch now, looks like she is wearing a bottomless one-piece swimsuit, shamelessly flaunting her pubes. Julian gets a sharp tingle from this view as he imagines Julia strutting on a beach in this ensemble.
"Oh my god! This is so lewd."
Julian knows that this is an argument he can't win just now. He moves on.
"Darling, can you try the two-piece now?"
"Hmmm... if the one-piece is vulgar, I can't imagine the thong! Why bother?"
"Please... There's only you and me here."
Julia realises that there is more going on here than itsy bitsy textile. She has to meet her husband some way to feed his hunger pangs. She resolves to be kinder.
Julia goes off-screen. Rustling of fabric. She struggles a little to get into the economical bikini thong. She is about to step back on-screen, then pauses. She gets her stilettos and slips them on. She totters, then steadies herself. Curiously, the stilettos give her a sensation of fullness. She feels her breasts welling, pressing against her top fabric, her hips, mound and buttocks straining against the thong bottom. She has never felt more full in her life. In body. In mind.
Again, she is about to step back to the webcam. But, she pauses. No, let him relish the anticipation a little bit longer. The extended thrill of anticipation is often more potent than the actual, often fleeting, event itself.
Julia finally emerges on-screen. The bikini fits her in the alluring way of a bikini that doesn't fit.
A strapless bandeau wrap of classic tear drops with a little hint of east-west orientation. Even though under cover, her impossibly natural breasts seem light and highly pointed. Curiously, her delicate hint arc of sag provides the essence of his satisfaction.
Her g-string strip nestles taut between her womanly pout of lips, completely obscured by her thatch. It looks like she is an island native wearing an ornamental vine around her waist, and nothing else.
"Turn around."
A male sigh. Julian has seen these buttocks a thousand times. But, he sees them anew now. Two orbs trussed up in a string. Not a young girl's butt for sure. But, not a blubber mass either. A woman's tail, longish and curving.
"Satisfied now? It's evident that I can't wear them. Sorry, you've wasted your money."
"After a waxing, you'll look presentable in the swimsuits."
"Waxing? Isn't this a little extreme? I heard that it's a painful process."
"Oh chill! Where we're going, high-cuts, thongs, waxing are de rigueur. Anything else is outrageous. Honey, I just want you to blend in, immerse, at one with, and enjoy the local beach culture."
"You mean, go native?"
"In a manner of speaking..."
"Since you put it that way, OK, I'll get a waxing. I'll have to check around though on the waxing services available."
"Yes, do that, love."
***
Three days later. Webcam.
"How's your waxing enquiries going?"
"Not good."
"How so?"
"I checked out six services. Three are done by men. I don't feel comfortable with men doing it."
"And?"
"The fourth is a hubby and wife business. Again, I don't feel comfy with male presence. I asked the wife if she could do me alone. She said that theirs is a couple business. They divide the tasks, so the hubby has to be present."
"The fifth?"
"The shop is in a dodgy neighbourhood in a back alley. Not particularly inspiring. I don't feel safe."
"The sixth?"
"The neighbourhood and shop is respectable. The service staff are female. A well-organised operation. Five service rooms."
"Sounds good..."
"Well, a bit too well-oiled an operation."
"Isn't that a good thing?"
"Each room has a CCTV-like monitoring contraption mounted at one corner of the ceiling. I asked the staff who was showing me around what they were. The way she answered didn't inspire confidence. She mumbled something about a security system that is activated only after business operation hours."
"Office security systems are not uncommon."
"Office areas, yes. But, these are in the service rooms. And better yet, the service staff wear a kind of head-mounted head lamp. How do we know it's not a portable pinhole cam, what they call an IP camera?"
"Hmmm..."
"Waxing is such an intimate process. I don't want mine to be secretly recorded. We hear so many horror stories of videos posted on the internet. I worry about this."
"Are we being a tad dramatic here? Thousands of women get waxed everyday."
"I just don't want my maiden hirsute maintenance project to be featured on the internet..."
"...and the whole world wax lyrical..."
"Very hilarious! Do you even care your wife is splayed over the worldwide web?"
"OK honey, I understand your concerns and discomfort."
"Let's just forget about this. I'll just shave myself. And then, I'll try on the swimsuits again."
"OK, see you next webcam."
Smirking, "Hmmm... you're getting your jollies, aren't you?"
***
Three days later. Webcam.
After the usual crossfire of pleasantries, and exchange of family updates, Julian asks, and Julia models the swimsuits.
There are persistent remnant wayward tufts from inconvenient places peeking out in many places. The optics do not pass muster.
Discerning the disappointment on Julian's face, "Sorry, darling, I tried my best. You know I'm luxuriant down there."
Julian is about to say something, then bites his lip. This did not escape Julia's notice.
"You were about to say something?"
"I just thought of someone who is experienced in waxing, Brazilian waxing in particular."
But, Julian says nothing more.
Julia is piqued, "Well?"
"Cole"
"Cole? Do I know him? Should I know him?"
"Your bro."
Astounded, "What?"
"How would you know Cole is experienced in waxing?"
Julian and Cole are blood mates going way back. Cabal. Partners in soft crime. It is Cole who introduced his sister to Julian. Cole was widowed three years ago when his Brazilian wife passed away because of illness.
"He told me he waxed Antônia regularly, continuing the habit from her Brazilian days before she married Cole."
"Oh? So my bro discussed his wife's pussy with you?"
Guardedly, "It was in passing... Boys pub talk after a few rounds."
"Did you discuss my pussy with my bro?"
Julian does not answer. There is a hush, not quite amounting to a silence. For some inexplicable reason, Julia feels a tingle in her loins.
"Honey, I only brought up Cole because of your concern with entrusting strangers to wax you, which is understandable. Cole is experienced. He is family. Yes, he is your bro. But, I'm sure he'll be professional about the whole process."
Annoyed, "Do you not find it strange that a husband asks his wife to splay before her brother dearest, as he removes her bush?"
Julian countering, "Suppose Cole is a gynaecologist, the best in the business. Would you be OK if he examines you?"
"Hmmm... You're skirting the question. Waxing is a vain frivolity. Gynaecology is healthcare."
"Suppose you want a photo essay of yourself for posterity, and Cole is an accomplished pro photographer. Would you be OK if he shoots you?"
"That will depend on whether I'll be opening my legs for him to shoot my pussy."
Julian discerns a little progress. All this talk excites him in the same way when he was discussing Julia's feminity with her brother at the pub not so long ago. He wonders how this is affecting Julia.
Julian knows Julia all too well. He mustn't overplay this. Just get her to a fringe state of fascinated repulsion. Then, things have a way of moving along on their own impulsive force.
Julia in a final-word type tone, "I don't wish to cross the line. If Cole does me, our relationship will change forever. Whenever I look into his eyes, I'll see my secrets in his eyes. It'll be awkward."
Julia and Julian meander on to discuss other matters of lower moral import.
Julia can't help but sense the deflation of Julian's spirit, at least, what remains of it, as they sign off the webcam.
Julia shuts her laptop with a deep sigh. She is still in the Wicked Weasel thong. As she gets up, she senses a run of fluid from the minimalist gusset, down her thigh, to her ankle. Oh my god, did Julian see that? She touches the dribble. This is her thickest excitement ever. She makes her way to the loo to dab off. Once there, she decides otherwise. She feels deliciously wicked, feeding on her own excitement.
A thousand miles away, Julian closes the webcam window with a sly smirk. He plays back the recorded webcam session. Yesss! It is what he thinks it is!
***
Chapter 2: Reflection
Julia's eyes flicker open.
She is a morning person by habit. Or, more precisely, a pre-dawn person. After a moment of dissonance, she becomes aware of her situation.
She enjoys, and almost hears the silence. The silence is actual, beautiful to her ears, beautiful to listen to. She lays in bed absorbing the poetic stillness.
She gazes at the window. A full moon shines in the pre-dawn sky. It is enormous. A comforting vision. Some greater force is watching over her, and stoically approving.
She drifts out to her open patio, devilishly near nude, a closet exhibitionist if there is such a thing, to write her most inspired private works. Erotic poetry and stories.
On days when Julian is not on business travel, when he rises, she makes the most of the pomp and circumstance of his morning wood.
Here, in the stillness, it all seems so right.
Julia rises quietly even though she is alone. She slips off her nightie, relishing the immediate caress of the night air feeling her up. She traipses to the living room. She fires up her laptop PC on the coffee table. She slides open the sliding glass door to the patio, to let in the remains of the night.
She sits on the sofa, and begins to write down her thoughts and feelings. She is all too conscious that she is naked. If you've ever walked around your house naked, it feels so weird and wild. She is trying to take some deep breaths and focus on the words. But, words have deserted her en masse this morning.
Her mind is preoccupied with something she cannot quite place.
It is still dark outside.
She cannot see if there is anyone out there looking in at her naked body, sitting, illuminated by the laptop screen. She knows her patio is quite private. But, is there a secret spy sweet spot in the enshrouding thicket of trees? Is there someone who is pulled in by the glimmer of light?
She knows that the chance of someone spying on her is next to zero. But, the speculation makes her feel so vulnerable, so daring, so exposed. So excited.
6am now. Every minute that passes makes her feel ever more exposed, and she has to admit, rather more aroused than she imagined she might be after this amount of time.
She gives up on her writing. Her creative juices are just not secreting. But, something else is.
She decides to amuse herself with the photo album on her laptop. An explicable force field guides her to subfolder "Cole & Antônia".
Here's a photo of Cole and Antônia in swimsuits. By Cole's impossibly boyish looks, it must be circa when they first met. Presumably a Brazilian beach by the looks of it. Maybe Copacabana? Leblon? Ipanema? Is Antônia the girl from Ipanema?
Yes, dear Antônia is lovely. So lovely. May she RIP. What a tragic blow to Cole. It has been three years now. She wonders how Cole is coping with the aching void.
Julia feels a stab of guilt. She thinks back to Antônia's early days in England. She was quite distant to Antônia, at a time when she would've appreciated an engaging sis-in-law to help her settle in what must have been a sedate cold Anglo world to her. It was uncharacteristic of her nature. Why was she that way?
She unconsciously magnifies Antônia's face. It strikes her that her late sis-in-law looks so much like her, if one disregards her latin tone in contrast to her English rose anemic pale. Antônia's wintry Germanic bloodline shows a little, overlaid with summery latin overtones. Is she the secret offspring of a monster Nazi general and a native beach babe, whom he discovers later, perversely, is half-Jewish? Her thoughts are spinning awry.
Julia drifts down Antônia's body clad in custom Brazilian string thong. The bikini looks at one with her being. She was born into it, and then, she just grew into it. Julia begins to appreciate a bit about what Julian was saying about blending seamlessly into the local biodiversity.
Curiously, Julia's hand autopilots to find and select a photo of her young self in a bikini taken by Cole on his cheap camera at their nook of the cove. She remembers that day. She juxtaposes the photo side-by-side against Antônia's photo. She gasps. Uncanny.
This may be disrespectful to her late sis-in-law, but she can't help it. She magnifies Antônia's crotch. The string leaves nothing to even the dullest of imaginations. Julia magnifies one more level. The max. She gasps again. One word, surreal.
She recalls the teasing webcam exchange with Julian, on he and Cole discussing their wives' feminine floral secrets.
Julia wonders what was going on in her brother's mop of head when he plucked Antônia from the bouquet.
***
Two thousand miles away. Cole's cellphone vibrates. A sisterly chime tone.
A message, "In town? Lunch sometime?"
"Marrakesh. Blue Ginger, Fri, high noon?"
"Lovely!"
***
Chapter 3: Vacation
Arrival.
Julia scans the airport terminal concourse. There is Julian. They hurl themselves at each other, meld and kiss. She enjoys the bakery warmth of his bear embrace.
***
The cottage is set at the head of a valley. The valley slopes down toward the sea. Wooded slopes surround the valley.
The building has wonderful architectural bones. The cottage comes with a decent-sized garden, and a small swimming pool. They can use the pool if they feel too idle to walk the half mile down to the beach. The resort calls it a cottage, but in fact it is quite a substantial house, more like a villa, with some outbuildings, all built in the traditional local rustic style. It is peaceful, quiet and private.
There is still two hours before sunset. They decide to check out the beach. Julia puts on the two-piece thong bikini.
"Honey", she beckons in her most husky. She pirouettes.
Julian is visibly surprised and pleased.
The artist's mission is to choose which aspects of reality to include in a work, and which to leave out. Reality itself is infinite. It can never be wholly represented in art.
And the artist is accorded genuine admiration and success when her version of reality seems to bring out valuable features of it.
Julia is the artist. Julia is art. The artist and her art are one, as a singer-songwriter-composer. A vision of loveliness.
He eyes drift southerly. The thong covers her cleft, and no more. Her mound is pristine. The texture of tender, pliant, newborn flesh. At the fount of life, she is a baby all over again.
Waxed. But, by whom? He is about to ask, then bites his lip. The question can wait. He wants to relish the delicious mystery for as long as he can. A sage said the power of anticipation is three times that of the eventual actual experience. He will milk it for its worth.
a tingle. As does Julia. They can't wait to hit the beach.
The beach is deserted, except for a sprinkling of couples nestled in the far corners and dunes.
They make their way to a far dune. Just when they have settled down on their towels, they hear alternating male and female breaths emanating from beyond the bushes, in the next dune. A piercing wail. And then quiet.
A male voice floating over, "Sorry about that! We didn't know you were settling in."
Julian apologetically, "Oh, we're the ones who should apologise. We're newbies here, unsure of the protocols."
"Are you OK if we pop over to say hello?"
Julian gazes at Julia. She closes her legs, then nods timidly.
"Oh yes, please do! We can learn something about the beach protocols from you."
***
Julian and Julia blink, then promptly suppress their surprise. The couple is nude.
The couple appears totally at ease with being naked before Julian and Julia. Reciprocating, Julian and Julia try to act naturally as if the couple is in swimsuits.
The lady introduces herself as Emily, or Em for short. The man, Elliot, or Ell. They are originally from the UK, but have resided here for a long time.
Julian says that they are first-time tourists here.
Em says that this is an unofficial clothing optional beach. At least, this is the implicit understanding of the few people who live around here, who know about and frequent this beach. There is no clothing optional sign. It is better that way because a sign will attract interlopers, weirdos and assorted muck. But, there is no pressure on anyone to go nude.
Julian looks questioningly at Julia. She can see the burning desire in Julian's eyes. He so wants to immerse in the local biodiversity. Julian can sense the mounting conflict in Julia's eyes.
Julia considers just taking off her top only. She gazes surreptitiously down to her crotch. Because of her body movements from when she first put on the thong bottom, the gusset has slipped into her cleft without her awareness. She is as good as bottomless, save for a symbolic run of string. Her feminine bit is neat and pristine, her cleft starting low on her mound, presenting a surreal angelic aura. Nothing much on show there, in contrast to the lurid floral designs on many mature women.
Finally, she rationalises that she will be in the buff only here in the dunes with Em and Ell. She will put on her swimsuit again when she ventures out of the cosy confines of the dunes.
Her moral burden so rationalised, Julia nods at Julian. Julian flashes her an approving smile. Julian is surprised at his demure wife's decisiveness in arriving at their unity of purpose. Well, we learn something new everyday, don't we? There is a nagging realisation in his subconscious though that once this inner genie is released, it can never be rebottled again.
Julia is even more surprised at herself. Is she revealing a Julia that has been hidden away for far too long? Since the beginning of her menopause, she has felt a need or desire for new forms of stimulation. Over time, she has given herself the time, opportunity and permission to enjoy herself alone. Now, she is raising the bar to a more radical level.
And so, Julian and Julia make a decision. They had wanted this at the back of their minds, but were unsure earlier about the status of this beach. Now, they know better. Oh well, when in Rome... And Ell and Em appear to be nice folks, the kind of people whom you would like to get native with. And the whole anonymity context of the situation and place helps.
Julian and Julia make a move of losing their textile.
Em says, "Oh! Sorry, if we gave you the wrong impression. You don't have to. You've the right to be in whatever clothing you choose on this public beach."
Julian replies instinctively, "We were unsure of the clothing status of this beach. Thanks for your info. Now that we know better, it is cool. We do want to indulge in some local immersion anyway, so why not start on day one!"
Julian and Julia turn away from the couple in an instinctive show of socially conditioned modesty. They peel off their swimsuits perfunctorily. For a moment, Julia feels conscious of her modest top. But, when she turns around and there is no visible reaction from Ell and Em, particularly Ell who looks at her admiringly, her anxiety fades away. Perversely, Julia feels nothing about her now naked bottom. By rights, she should be more conscious of her revealed womanhood than her top. But, unconsciously, she keeps her thighs together.
All four endeavour to make light of their nudity. Light banter is an effective social lubricant.
Em is the chirpy one. Ell appears comfortable to let Em lead the social twitter charge. But, he is by no means shy.
Julia wonders, "Does this beach attract more people on weekends?"
Ell observes, "Not that many more than weekdays, do you agree, sis?" And then bites his lip.
Sensing the discomfort arising from this inadvertent revelation, Em feels obliged to explain that Ell and her are brother and sister. The sibling nudity bit is left unsaid. The elephant in the room.
Em discerns the rising unease in Julian and Julia. Em adds "Don't worry, we've been together a long time. Since Ell was widowed, and me divorced. We can use a little new conversation. Stay with us awhile if you are not in a hurry."
Em and Ell have a large blanket spread out. They sit at one end of it leaving ample room for Julian and Julia. Julian and Julia sit down.
Julian is silently amused. E&E in the blue corner, J&J in the red! All set for tag team play?
They begin idle banter.
Julian and Julia are sitting at their feet facing them. Em is sitting cross-legged. Ell has his legs bent up so that his chin rests on his knees.
Ell and Em are slightly more senior than Julian and Julia, at about late sixties. Although they are nudists, they are not very tan. Em has small breasts with dark brown nipples, short brown hair and dark eyes. She is pretty in a plain sort of way. She has a thin waist. Her vulva looks like it is very bushy, but her crossed legs conceal it in a coquettish manner.
Ell is lean and tall. He has black hair streaked with grey, and wears a small mustache. His arms are wrapped around his knees, his legs drawn close together. Julian sits with his legs outstretched and leans back languidly on his arms. His penis flaccid.
Julia sits with her right leg outstretched. Her left leg is tucked under her buttocks. This posture accentuates her pouty mound, exposing just a hint top of her hairless cleft.
They chat about the beach, the weather, the people that Ell and Em have met on this beach, and the country at large. As nudged along by Em, the conversation soon drifts into topics with hints of sexual themes. Julia and Julian feel somewhat awkward about the direction that the conversation is taking, considering that they are talking to a sibling pair.
Ell straightens his legs out and lies back against the dune slope. He spreads his legs apart. Julia and Julian cannot help but stare for a moment. His penis has to be 9 plus inches long. Julian is long, and Ell is longer. It hangs down over his testicles, the end resting on the sand. He casually reaches down, shakes off the bits of sand, and picks it up and lays it on his abdomen. It is uncircumcised. It reaches all the way to his belly button. Em looks at Julian. She smiles. Julian knows that Em has seen his reaction. With that, Em also straightens her legs and spreads them. Em watches Julian as his gaze moves to her. Em rocks her leg back and forth as Julian unabashedly stares at her crotch. Em has a big swatch of black curly hair at the top of her vulva. But, her lips are cleanly shaven. As she moves her leg, Julian watches her lips opening and closing.
Julian moves his legs and stretches out, shifting his weight on his arms.
Em continues the conversation with Julian and Julia. Ell is mostly silent.
Em reaches over and lightly rubs her brother's stomach. She then moves her hand down onto her brother's penis. Her hand is on top of his penis. She rolls it around against his stomach.
Em picks up the big hunk of brotherly meat. She wraps her fingers around the base. Her fingers fit completely around it, so it is not as thick it looks. She holds it up and waves it around. Her other hand begins rubbing her vagina. Em now begins talking about how she enjoys watching a man's penis get hard.
Julian's penis is practically bursting from this frisson.
Ell's penis however remains semi-rigid. In fact, the way it flops back and forth as his sister plays with it, it appears almost soft. Curiously soft in a big way, in the way that bigness seems to suggest firmness. She puts both hands around his penis and works it up and down. On the down stroke, his foreskin pulls back to reveal a purple head which she kisses and licks.
Looking fixatedly at Julian even as she is working her brother, Em says that she always enjoys meeting a man with a hard penis. Julian takes this to mean that her brother never gets hard. This helps to assuage Julian's feelings of regret that he doesn't have a bigger manhood.
Julia is highly aroused by all the action she has witnessed. She is all moist. Part of her wants to scoot over to Ell. She feels confident that her new fingers can awaken his slumbering serpent. She wonders what it will feel like. But, she holds back. What is she thinking? Julian, her husband, is right here beside her.
The frisson is too high to bear. Julian sits languidly. Julia sits in front of him, pauses, as if giving him notice of her next move. Julia reclines on Julian as if he is a chaise lounge chair. They make some fine body adjustments, and then Julia melts onto Julian, their contours meshed in a cosy unity.
Ell and Em do the same, facing Julian and Julia obliquely. An almost mirror image of heavenly body constellations. They banter for awhile on no particular subject.
Julian's right hand caresses then fondles Julia's breasts. His fingers tweak her hardening nipples. Julia writhes. Julian's shaft is lined up along the length of Julia's slit. Julia tightens her thighs to press Julian's penis length against her slit.
Ell and Em are aroused by what they see. Emboldened by Julian's actions, Ell plays with his sister's breasts.
Ell is in the eye of a sensual perfect storm. Voyeur visual stimulation from observing Julian and Julia. The physical ministration of his own sister's breasts. The fleshy grind of his shaft against his sister's mound. The tingle of the taboo. The exhibitionist opportunity afforded by the situation. This sensual confluence moves Ell to harden. Em flashes a Cheshire feline smile as if expressing a rare hard-won joy. They make some body readjustments. It appears like this is a pointed opportunity that they will want to make best use of. Ell slips into Em. It appears like this is the first time in a long while that Ell has engaged his sister this assertively.
Still in connection and in conjunction with each other, Em raises herself slowly, with Ell moving gingerly in harmony and in unison, the sibling pair reconfigures seamlessly into a classic doggy position. Once in place, Ell pounds his sister mercilessly with primal abandon. A slow-starter has raged into a runaway train. How very transporting for Em, the passenger of the ride.
Julian and Julia watch open-mouthed at this wanton sexual spectacle. Ell has a long penis. Now agonisingly erect, it is even more formidable. Em is not a big woman. Her love capacity is maxed out. Ell manages only three quarters way in.
Julia wonders mutedly whether she can handle Ell all the way. Although a hypothetical question, a curious charge of fear mingled with yearning and excitement courses through her loins.
This time, Julian and Julia are emboldened by Ell's and Em's brazen primal doggy display. Julia is wound up in a high state. She is on edge, aching to be penetrated.
Julia disentangles from Julian. She pushes Julian flat on his back. His penis is ramrod skyward. Julia lowers herself on Julian's shaft, gingerly at first, and then sitting down on it, facing him, in cowgirl stance. Julian is kneading her breasts with intensity. Julia bounces on him like a woman possessed. Julian is aroused to pulp. In a stupor. He loses focus on her breasts as he drifts and loses himself. His hands drop from her breasts.
Julia increases the intensity and speed of her movements as she feels a sensation welling in her loins. As she cums, she simultaneously feels spurts of warmth flooding her insides. Julia folds and collapses onto Julian in a tangled body heap.
Julia cries, "That was so intense, bro!", and then immediately bites her tongue. It bled. Oh my god, oh my god, why did she utter that? Did Julian hear that? What will he think?
A look of surprise washes over Ell and Em, and they too bite their tongues to suppress themselves.
There is a sense of awkwardness between the two couples. An alternating confused electricity.
Ell and Em say that it is time for them to go. They say that they come to this beach often, and if Julian and Julia see them again, be sure not to be strangers.
Julian and Julia stay awhile, silent and confused, yet enjoying their alone time nudity, secure in the knowledge that no one is likely to come to this beach at this late time of the day.
Julia squeezes Julian's penis lovingly. Her voice is low, as if she is speaking from a distance. But, she is next to him. "I want to explain..."
Julian decides to take charge, "There is nothing to explain."
Julia's heart sinks.
Julian continues, "Alot has happened in the short time since we landed here. Firstly, our rapid induction into nudism. Then, sharing our nudity with others. And then, the dissonance arising from Ell and Em's intimacy. A heady brew of nudism, the taboo, sex, voyeurism and exhibitionism in short order. Naturally, we will confuse who-is-who at the height of our stupor, as our lovemaking face off a taboo pair, as we mimic and pace each other's gyrations."
Julia says nothing. She knows better. But, what a sweet husband she has. He is trying to erase her guilt and moral burden. She squeezes his penis again with love.
As the sun begins to set, Julia whispers sheepishly, "There is one more thing I want to do before we go. And this is just the place to do it."
Julian is piqued. Julia gets up. She scans the beach. No one around. She will remain native.
She playfully pulls Julian up by his shaft, leave the dune, and then tugs him along to the shoreline. She positions his shaft to just below her mound. She releases his penis. It twitches and arcs down, quivering gently. Julia gazes lovingly into his eyes. Julian is enthralled by all this, although he doesn't know what exactly.
Julian senses a soothing warmish sensation rush over his penis. Hot lava. Julia is peeing on his manhood. A stream of golden straw yellow caressing, enfolding his shaft, then converging on his head. Julian feels queasy and aroused. He feels like urinating too. But, he can't. It is a long feminine piss, fluid merging into fluid. It seems to go on forever. The stream gets warmer. A female scent. Piquant. Incisive.
Maybe it is seeing her pee, or maybe it is the watery caress of her warm urine, or maybe the piquant female scent. Or maybe it is the aggregate of these. Julian feels a quick rush of electricity course through him. His whole body heats up. He can feel getting ready to come. He is totally unprepared. This has never happened this fast.
But, Julian twitches a few notches up instead. His head is in contact with her fountainhead now. A final torrent. And then Julia is done. Time resumes.
This is so uncharacteristic of Julia.
They rinse in the sea.
Soon, the sky will slam shut, and the lights of stars will chill the air.
***
Bedroom banter.
"I want to see you properly."
Coyly, "Where would you like to start?"
"Everywhere. To begin with."
But, Julia knows better. She smiles a tiny knowing smile at him.
"Do you like it?"
When did Julia develop such a magnificent mons? He has a new feel of her nakedness. She is a new breed of cat. It excites him. A part of Julian nods agreeably in pointed affirmation.
She moves closer to him, "Looks like you do like it."
He is arousing her with a simple touch of palm on pristine skin. She feels her nipples tighten, aching with the need to be suckled.
"Will you tell me about it?"
Julia teases, "But why?"
Humbly, "I want to learn the art. Master it. Every step and nuance. I want to do you next time. Start from the very beginning..."
Julia senses that Julian is yearning for titillation. She will feed his itch. The single most potent sexual organ in the human body is the brain.
"After our webcam on waxing being not a viable option, I sensed your disappointment. I mulled long and hard."
She pauses.
"I then thought I'll have lunch with Cole and casually ask for his guidance. I knew it would be somewhat awkward, his being my brother and all. But, we are both adults, mature ones at that."
A pause.
"So, I told Cole about our upcoming vacation and the two swimsuits you bought. About my discomfort with waxing services."
A pause.
"I told Cole about the unsatisfactory outcome of my shaving attempt."
"Oh? Did Cole enquire on the details?"
Sheepishly, "In not so many words, yes..."
"And?"
"I had to give him a context. So, I described the design of the two swimsuits, particularly the bottoms."
A pause.
Sheepishly, "And my luxuriance. Well, maybe, he already knew that from the lowdown you gave him in your boys talk."
"And?"
"And then my wayward bits after my shaving attempt. This was a little awkward. Cole sensed my shyness. We didn't discuss much."
A pause.
"Then, I told Cole about your suggestion on waxing. And my checking out the services, and my discomfort in using commercial waxing services. I was upfront with Cole. I told him that I'm aware he waxed Antônia routinely."
A pause.
"I intimated to Cole that I wanted to surprise you at the vacation with me properly fitted in the swimsuits. Given my luxuriance, I needed a waxing. I asked him if he had any ideas."
A pause.
"Cole said that he had no recommendations on waxing services as he had been DIY all these years. He said that there are Youtube DIY instructional videos, but these are not really effective, especially for luxuriant ladies."
Julia stops. She notices the glisten on Julian's head. She grasps his penis with her whole hand. She holds it. Feels its thickness and hardness. Takes its measure. Squeezes it ever so slightly every few seconds. She touches the tip of his penis with her index finger, teasing more moist excitement to seep out. She rolls her finger in the liquid. She lightly spreads the moistness over the head. Coating it. Doodling cryptic designs.
Julia teasingly, "It's getting late. We had an epic day. Let's continue this account tomorrow."
"Don't you dare!"
Julia takes a deep breath.
"I told Cole that you had suggested he wax me. Cole was astounded. We looked at each other. Time stood still."
A pause.
"Cole asked what did I think about it."
A deep pause.
"Go on."
"I said no male has seen me naked other than you. Not even doctors. All my docs have been female. And you had to marry me for this exorbitant privilege."
Julian jocularly, "I'm ever so grateful!"
Julia pauses. She doodles the gathering moisture on his head as if that helps in her remembering further what transpired. She leaks a little excitement herself.
Impatiently, "Go on."
"I said I do want to get the waxing done. Better a trusted family member than a stranger."
A pause.
"Cole asked how do I feel about him, my brother, doing it."
A pause.
Almost shyly, "I don't know what came over me then. I looked Cole in the eye and said, "You can find out when you do it. That is, if you want to help me", and then I gazed away sheepishly."Julia moves her hand to the base of Julian's penis. She squeezes it every few seconds, in a brutally hard, then lovingly soft cycle. A cruel and unusual punishment. Julian loves it.
A pause.
"When my eyes returned to Cole's face, there was a gleam in his eye. He looked different. And he looked at me differently. In that moment of time, I think I've transformed from sister to woman in his eyes."
A pause.
"Cole was all decisive and assertive after that. Kind of took charge. He said that he'll be away on an extended overseas assignment from the day after tomorrow. Thus, I was to meet him at his home the next day. He still has his waxing kit from Antônia's time in his home. I asked whether the wax and stuff would have expired and dried out. Cole said the kit was still in use. This piqued me a little. On whom? But, I thought better not ask."
A pause.
"I asked Cole to tell me a bit about the procedure. Is it uncomfortable or painful? Cole replied that over the years, he had refined a collaborative process which worked well for Antônia. I thought it strange that waxing is a collaborative activity. But, I didn't say anything. Cole assured me that I'll enjoy the experience. Counterintuitively, it is actually more mental than physical. He added that he would prefer not to let me know the process in advance. I'd enjoy the experience better, chill, just going with the flow, without preconception. But, during the actual process, Cole said he would let me know what he is doing at each step, so that I can collaborate with him. Hmmm... collaborate again. What?"
Julian impatiently, "Go on."
"The next day, I drove to Cole's home. I arrived at 9:30am. I rang the doorbell. Cole opened the door. He announced, "Let's go!" What? Where? He had a duffel bag in hand. Had he forgotten about the waxing? He said that he did Antônia at a special place. We were going there."
A pause.
"Cole drove to the marina. We sailed out in his 32-footer sloop. It was a beautiful morning filled with summer's energy. Warm the way cognac warms without burning."
"You're getting poetic."
"Yes. It was a beautiful morning. I began to understand a bit about Cole wanting to do me the way he did Antônia."
Julian wonders if Cole was reliving Antônia through Julia. It is charming and macabre all at once. But, he says nothing.
"We sailed for thirty minutes to a secluded small cove of an island. The boat was anchored twenty feet from the beach. Cole told me that the island was uninhabited. Nobody ever came to it. We got into a small inflatable dinghy which Cole carried on his boat. Cole rowed to the beach. We went behind the beach, and trekked through forest path for five minutes."
Julia pauses.
"As we emerged from the thicket, voilà, a picture postcard greeted us. A waterfall cascading from an upper serene pond, roaring down into a rockpool. Poetic tranquility and graceful turbulence in the same vision sweep. I just couldn't believe my eyes. It was the most heavenly place I've seen in my life."
"Cole laid an inflatable lounge cushion on a flat rock at the bank of the rockpool. The area was shaded by an overhang of verdant canopy, like a natural gazebo. He said that nobody came to this rockpool, and if anyone did, he would hear them way ahead of time from their blustering through the forest path."
Julia takes a deep breath as if to muster her courage.
"Cole instructed me to remove all my clothing, while he went back into the forest to gather some leaves which have natural medicinal properties. He melted into the forest. I removed my clothes, and laid naked on the lounge cushion. I was in a stripped emotional state, vulnerable to exposing my weaknesses. Instinctively, I placed my left palm over my crotch, and draped my right arm across my breasts. It was surreal. Cole was gone for awhile. Perhaps it was the aura of the place, or the cool, almost perfumey, air. I drifted into a kind of floating transcendence. Next thing I knew, I felt a hand nudge me. I opened my eyes. It was Cole. He was naked. For the first time in my life, another man besides you, saw me naked. For the first time in my life, I saw another man naked."
"What was Cole's state?"
"Are you asking what I think you're asking?"
Julian moves his head a little, but not quite amounting to a nod.
"I didn't know how long Cole was with me before he nudged me. Had he been looking at me?"
Julian feels a tingle.
"I was undecided whether Cole's penis was erect, semi-erect or flaccid. For sure, it pointed unequivocally down. And yet, there was a statuesque dignified, if not regal, stiffness about it. It did not sway as a flaccid penis does when Cole moved. It gave a tingling prescient sense that it could be called to action at short notice. I wondered what his full flourish might be like? Or, maybe, this was it."
"What happened next?"
"Cole explained that he had been waxing Antônia for about a year after their marriage and coming to England. She reacted in the usual way a woman would react to waxing. Some discomfort. A little fleeting mild pain. But, overall OK. One day, after a sail, while chilling at the rockpool, he decided to wax her. Curiously, she experienced no discomfort at all. He could not identify the specific cause for this. Was it the rockpool water? The air? The forest leaves he used to soothe her skin? The mood of the place? Finally, he gave up the analysis, and just attributed it to the abstract totality of the place and the circumstances. Cole said that he would apply the same to me. Was this experience unique to Antônia because of her particular constitution, or would it apply to me as well? Like a scientist, Cole was on a quest. And if it worked for me too, it would benefit me as well."
Bated breath, "Go on..."
"We chilled in the rockpool."
Julia wonders whether she should elaborate on their horsing around in the water. She had clambered on Cole, and sat on his broad shoulders. In the chill of the rockpool, they were teens all over again. She was afraid of falling off at first, and had tightened the grip of her thighs against his neck. The nape of his neck, that subtle protrusion of bone and slender flesh, felt so good against her bushy crotch. She tightened her grip, loosened, then tightened again, in a cycle. Her luxuriant moss of bush ground his flesh. After awhile, tired, she loosened her grip. It was then that Cole moved his neck up and down, like one loosening his neck muscles, as if continuing Julia's motion cycle. That caused Julia to want to tighten her thighs in response. And so bro and sis enjoyed pleasing moments in this cycle of motion.
Cole then suggested they relive their childhood swimming pool game of wild, wild west bucking rodeo. He would buck in the water endeavouring to toss Julia off, rest awhile, and then buck again. Wet and wild. Julia resumed her crotch grip of her brother's neck, loosening up when Cole eases up, to rest, then tightening her grip again, to avoid being tossed off.
Later, Cole moved over to the curtain of the waterfall. The wash thundered on Julia's head. She gripped her hold on Cole's nape with twice the intensity, to not fall off. It was an exhilarating sensation. Cold on her head. Hot in her loins. It ended in a dramatic splash, when she did fall off, ingloriously, arse over head.
As she surfaced from the rockpool, her eyes flickered open momentarily in the filmy water. A Cole in flourish. In the cold water. Julia was pleased with herself.
Julia decides muted discretion is the better part of valour.
"After freshening up in the rockpool, Cole asked me to lie down on the lounger cushion. I laid down with my legs closed."
Julia pauses.
"Cole explained the waxing. The pubic area is one of the most sensitive areas in the body and during the procedure, special attention must be paid to avoid irritation."
A pause.
"Strip waxing using soft wax is done by spreading a wax thinly over the skin. A paper strip is applied and pressed firmly, adhering the strip to the wax, and the wax to the skin. The strip is then ripped against the direction of hair growth to get at the root, as parallel as possible to the skin. This action removes the wax along with the hair. The direction is important because if it's done wrong, the hair will break, with part of the hair remaining in the skin."
A pause.
"A variation, stripless wax, also referred to as hard wax, is applied thickly, with no paper strips. The wax hardens when it cools, allowing the easy removal by a waxer without the aid of strips. Stripless wax does not adhere to the skin as much as strip wax does, thus making it a good option for sensitive skin as finer hairs are more easily removed because the hard wax encapsulates the hair as it hardens. Stripless waxing can also be less painful."
Julian observes, "I didn't know that waxing is such an elaborate process."
"Cole said that from Antônia's experience, with repeated removal over time, pubes become weaker and grow more slowly, leading to easier removal and less frequent waxing."
Julian wonders if this was a lifetime service offer by Cole to his sis. He tells himself that he is imagining too much.
"Cole took the waxing stuff out of his duffel bag and arranged it on a flat rock next to the inflated lounger cushion. He then placed a neat pile of the leaves he had gathered from the forest. They have a curious pleasing heady smell, almost perfumy, a bit like sweet German Riesling, only stronger."
Julian curiously, "Did Cole explain why he had to be naked as well?"
Julia pauses as if composing herself. She is deciding how far she should go in answering Julian. This detail does not escape Julian's notice.
"Cole didn't explain explicitly. Just that it was how he did it with Antônia. Something about being in unity with the person being waxed, and at another level, at one with nature."
What Julia does not say is that Cole had found out in his experimentation with Antônia that with each rip off of the wax from the skin, instead of using the hand to press down on the raw flesh to soothe the skin, it was more effective to use the tender flesh of the penis head to rub over the area. Tender on tender. And the natural body fluid lubricant arising from the process provides a further soothing effect. Using every bit of what mother nature provides. No factory concocted and confected chemicals.
When Cole first told Julia this matter-of-factly, Julia was astounded. She looked at Cole wide-eyed. She had wondered whether this whole waxing idea was tenable. Cole said not to worry about it. Once they got going, the process will become second nature. This is the beauty of letting mother nature go her sweet way and take charge.
Julia decides to continue, before Julian asks more questions.
"Cole examined my mound to determine whether he needed to trim my bush before the waxing. As I had shaved recently, my pubes were within the quarter inch length, thus suitable for waxing."
"How did Cole ascertain that? Pubes are curly and mossy. I'm interested in his technique so that I may apply it on you in the future?"
Sheepishly, "I didn't actually see Cole do it as I was lying down. Given the aura of the rockpool surroundings, I was in a becalmed, placid state. I felt him sampling my pubic hair at different parts of my mound. He would stand-up my pubic strands here and there to ascertain their length. I could feel gentle tugging."
"What next?"
"Cole reiterated that the key to effective waxing is ripping off the strip against the direction of hair growth so that the hair is removed totally from its root. To achieve that, he had to analyse my pubes, to demarcate them into waxing zones."
Julia pauses. She studies Julian's face. Her hands drift to Julian's stiffening penis. She squeezes his base. He is tranquilised into silence by the pleasure of the moment.
"Cole asked me to open my legs wider. He moved nearer. His finger ranged over my thicket. It was like he was examining the texture of my pubes. Like he was feeling up the texture of a tapestry in a luxury carpet shop. He ran his finger this way and that, parsing my bush, to analyse my pubic constitution. I could feel his breath."
Julia does not say that she then observed from the corner of her eye Cole's right hand cupping his groin, as if in futile effort to contain the pleasure throbbing through his quivering flesh.
Julia sees an emerging glisten of granule on Julian's head.
"After a long while, Cole told me he had identified my zones. Top of my cleft. Its left. Then, its right. And then lower, left of my cleft. Then right. Five zones. He said he liked the way my pussy was put together."
Julian thought that this was an odd thing to say. A five-piece jigsaw puzzle of a cat?
"That I have neat pubes directional flows. Almost like he was praising me for willing my pubic hair to grow right for him to wax me."
Julian pushes Julia down and pores over her mound.
"Like so?"
Julian finger traces each zone. He has seen Julia's feline fur thousands of times, but now, he has difficulty imagining it, like it was all so long ago. Julia is a kitten reborn.
"Cole asked me to open my legs wider, and relax. He started with the zone at the top of my cleft. The most accessible and straightforward zone. He took one leaf from the pile of forest leaves. And then, he did something that completely surprised me. He parted my slit a little, then rubbed the surface of the leaf into my slit. It picked up my moisture. Somehow, Cole knew that I would be wet. He did this for awhile. New moisture was generated. The leaf released a tangy sweet scent, and a faint hint of mint, which I cannot identify precisely."
Julia thinks for a bit.
"Cole put the leaf to his nose. He said it is rendered just right. He thanked me for my collaboration. He rubbed the leaf against my mound, the zone above my cleft, methodically. He said that this prepped my skin. I felt a delightful soothing cool. Cole disposed the leaf. He patted my mound and declared that I was primed."
Julia pauses.
"Go on..."
"Cole stretched my skin, then applied the soft wax in the direction of the hair. The thicker the hair, the more the wax. After awhile, when the wax had presumably set, he pressed a strip down on the wax. His held down the strip evenly to press my skin. Then, he ripped off the strip against the direction of the hair growth. I was expecting discomfort, or fleeting ripping pain. But, I felt nothing. Curiously, nothing at all."
Julia is about to continue her account, and then bites her lip.
Julian sees this through the corner of his eye, but he says nothing. She just looks at him a little nervously and can't say it. He is truly intrigued, and a little excited at what she is struggling with.
What Julia didn't say is that she then felt tender flesh on the waxed area. She peered down. Cole was rubbing his penis head on her raw skin. His soothing motion was aided by his granules of excitement. It felt strange and transcending, although she could not place it precisely. It was like you were expecting something painful, like an injection or incision, and when it happened, you experienced pleasure. Pleasantly counterintuitive. Surreal. She immediately looked forward to the next waxing iteration. But, her brother's soothing motion was so good too.
Sensing that Julia is in a kind of dizzy dancing daze, he nudges, "Go on."
"Cole went on to do the left, then the right, of the first waxing zone, in much the same way. Rendering the leaf. Priming the zone with the leaf rub. Applying the waxing. Stripping the wax. Soothing the skin."
Julian curiously, "Soothing the skin?"
"Oh, I didn't mention that earlier?"
"No"
"I thought you knew. It's standard practice for the waxer to press down his palm on the waxed area immediately after ripping off the strip."
"But, you said you felt nothing after the strip was ripped off?"
"Just the customary instinctive thing for the waxer to do. Know that the waxer has no way of knowing whether the person is feeling any discomfort or pain. I guess this relieving action gives the person a psychological reassuring feeling, regardless of whether or not there is discomfort or pain."
"So, that's three of five zones done. What next?"
"Cole moved on to the left side of my cleft. He commented that my minimalist feminity, bereft of outer labia, makes waxing that much easier."
Julian runs his hand on her mound as if verifying Cole's observation.
Julia is conflicted on whether to say more. She sees the hungry gleam in Julian's eye.
"Cole ran his finger along my slit, turned it up a bit, just to be sure that there were no lurking hair strands. He started on the length of my left lip. Gave it another once over again just to be sure. He was pedantic. Then, he repeated the same on my right lip."
Julia decides to hold back on the rest. By the time Cole started on her right lip, she was quite wet with arousal.
"Cole proceeded to wax my mound on the left side of my slit. He told me that he'll be using hard wax hereon. He took care to apply the wax evenly in thickness so that when it is set, and ripped off, there would be no cracks. There was no strip for hard wax. He ripped the hard wax from bottom to top."
"Was there any discomfort or pain with the hard wax?"
"No. Hard wax does not adhere to the skin as much as strip soft wax does. Finer hairs are more easily removed because the hard wax encapsulates the hair as it hardens."
Again, Julia was silent on Cole soothing her mound with his most tender flesh.
"Cole proceeded to wax my mound on the right side of my slit the same way."
Julia omitted to say that Cole soothed her mound as usual. And then, he surprised Julia yet again. He ran his head along her slit, as it was a bit raw after the waxing.
"Cole then straightened my legs flat on the lounger cushion. He held my ankles and raised my closed legs. He placed a bolster under my buttocks."
Julia pauses.
"Cole held up my legs exposing my pussy and anus. He examined me intimately to determine the directions of my hair growth, and demarcate the waxing zones."
"Go on..."
"Cole applied strip soft wax on the oblique sides adjacent to my anus."
Julia pauses.
"That part done, Cole stretched my skin, and applied hard wax from near the bottom of my slit to one side of my anus. After the wax had set, he ripped the wax from top to bottom. I felt no discomfort."
Julia pauses.
"Finally, Cole pulled my arse cheeks to stretch my skin, and applied hard wax to the area below my anus. When the wax set, he ripped it off from bottom to top. Cole cleaned off all the little remnant wax bits. He then took a leaf from the pile, rendered it the usual way, and rubbed it all over to soothe my skin a final time. It felt good."
"So, you felt no discomfort at all?"
"No"
What Julia didn't say is that she wanted the procedure to carry on. She felt a connection with her brother that is easy to identify, but hard to define precisely.
"Cole lowered my feet back down to the lounger cushion. He opened my legs. He inspected his work visually and physically, as though challenging himself to find a remnant renegade strand of pubic hair. Finally, he stood back for a minute, like an art critic in a gallery, and put his hands on his hips."
Julian emits a male sigh.
"Satisfied, he closed my legs. He looked at me this angle and that checking out the aesthetics and optics. Cole is an artist."
"And?"
"Cole carried me in his arms. I thought he was going to lower me to the ground. He tossed me into the rockpool. He said that the water would soothe my skin. After immersing for awhile, he led me to the waterfall curtain. The falling water massaged my raw skin. It was sheer bliss."
What is unsaid is that Cole led his sister behind the waterfall curtain.
There was a cave, a playful hidey-hole, behind the waterfall curtain. Its cool ambience was in sharp contrast to the glorious sunlit warmth outside. The incessant heady roar of falling water. The soft showering caressing stray sprays. A moving cinematic view of the world through the surging water curtain. A dreamy water cocoon that was a world unto itself.
Brother and sister sat and leaned against the back of the hidey-hole, thigh to thigh, next to each other. Cole's and Antônia's hidey-hole. Cole's hidey-hole. And now, their hidey-hole.
In the thundering silence, they were observing what was around them, and eventually looked back at each other.
It was weird. It was like their time together was just theirs. Their own creation. It was like she was in his dream, and he, hers. They immersed in an aura that was a hazy unity of fantasy and reality. Their time here was completely out of time.
Realising that they were now committed to one another in some strange way, there was an awkward silence.
Cole looked at Julia. In the dark of the hidey-hole, and the backlit radiance of the water curtain, she presented a surreal vision of loveliness.
"What do you think of your big sis?"
"A sight to behold."
"One word?"
"Comely"
"Me or you?"
The back of the hidey-hole was cold as damp rock would be. Julia shunted over seeking warmth. She sat in front of Cole. Julia paused momentarily as if serving Cole notice of her next move. She reclined gently. After a minute of snuggling down to fuzzy comfort, relishing the home and hearth warmth of his brotherly form, she cocked her head to look at him coyly, and then twinkled a kittenish knowing smile.
Julia felt that she was in the still centre of a whirlwind. She felt a perfect peace, that perfect calm.
They watched the water fall.
***
Julia looks at Julian. He is in agony.
"You're in a state. Let me finish you off."
"I want something different."
"Oh?"
"I want to hump your pristine, smooth mound."
Julia a tad disappointed, "You would prefer a dry hump over more penetrative engagement? That is so economical."
Sheepishly, "Yes"
Julia observing, "Un bon repas doit commencer par la faim".
"Huh?"
"A good meal starts with hunger."
"I'm raring to tuck in."
In a kind of hypnotic trance, Julian guides Julia to the wall. He presses her back hard against the bedroom sandstone wall almost bruising her. He extends her arms horizontally in a crucifixion configuration. His hands pin down her palms to lock her down. She is nailed! Is this some divine symbolism?
He nuzzles his rock-grade hard shaft at the moist confluence of her lower mound and upper thighs in a sawing dry hump motion. As she tightens her clenched thighs, Julian intensifies his pistoning motion to breach the seal.
Oooh! The grind of his head against her smooth, pliant mound flesh feels so good! Tender on tender. And yet, savage. So very good! Animistic pagan growls and howls. Can the neighbours hear them? His perseverance pays off. He gets in, by dint of forceful persistence.
Julian closes his eyes. He sees a single blob of violent colour. As does Julia.
Oh yes, the climax is over, Julian knows that. But, it is not over, not until he feels it. It is not over until it stops pleasing. And he is pleased now. He needs to get over the pleasure. A strange thing to think.
Julia smiles beatifically like a Virgin in a Sunday School colouring book.
As Julian climbs down, he nuzzles, then kisses Julia, to thank her for making the moment possible.
Julia looks back at Julian with a smile of gratitude far more than is called for.
They stretch out on the bed. In the quietude of afterglow, they talk, cuddle a little. She plays with the hair on his chest. He doodles on her mound. His finger traces her contour of breast. A fleshy swell of rise, an icing stage of denser and darker flesh, a summit eruption of nub.
***
Chapter 4: Unfinished Business
Fast forward.
Five thousand miles away. A sisterly cellphone chime tone emanates from Cole's trousers. He feels the vibration in his loins.
A message, "In town? Lunch sometime?"
"Bangkok. Le Coq, Fri, 1230?"
"Be serious!"
"Le Coq, 1 Flagstaff Rise"
"Mmmm... Lovely!"
Julia rereads the message thread. She feels a tingle of anticipation, although of what exactly, she can't tell. She smiles. This is so Cole.
For some inexplicable reason, she thinks back to the blindfold game she once played with Cole on their treehouse, at the bottom of their garden. She was twelve, and he, ten. All the while, she was fearful of falling off the treehouse. And yet, she did not wish the game to end. And when at last she thought she fell, she did not. And here she is now, on a kind of lofty perch in the sky, only higher, and she, older. A gentle kind of haunting.
Julia thinks of Kierkegaard's "fear of falling". Anxiety, dread and angst are unfocused fear. When the person looks over the edge, she experiences a focused fear of falling. But at the same time, she feels a terrifying impulse to throw herself intentionally off the edge. That experience is anxiety or dread because of her complete freedom to choose to either throw herself off, or to stay put. The mere fact that she has the possibility and freedom to do something, even the most terrifying of possibilities, triggers immense feelings of dread. The dizziness of freedom.
***
Julian is on business travel away for a week. Julia has a collection of hours to spend. Cole is in-between assignments, a week, a window of idyll.
***
Cole is a six footer. Well-trimmed beard. Clean cut. Aquiline. He looks the part of the archetype roving intrepid photojournalist, comfortable in the method to the madness of the world. It is easy to imagine him ducking machine gun fire on a busy day in Congo, or ascertaining the finer cultural nuances of the Shan mountain people in Myanmar.
A gentleman with the muted demeanour of a mild cad. A beast with brains.
Although Julia is older than Cole by two years, she cannot remember a time when she has not looked up to him as her big bro. She was enthralled by Cole. He could quote Schopenhaeur, refute Nietzsche, and jumpstart cars to steal rides. Cole was a fantasy she could not act out herself. Julia would let life carry her along.
Julia smiles wistfully at the distant memory of her gangly bro brimming with fire and ambition, at a time when he had more questions than answers about the world. It was later that he realised, perhaps, that his quest was not to discover himself, but to lose himself to something greater. He wanted to make his life his art.
His dreams have lost some grandeur coming true. Nevertheless, his career accomplishments are quite spectacular. He cannot return, but can only look behind from where he came. It is a good view. That is what Julia thinks.
***
"That was a lovely lunch. What next?"
"Sailing"
"To the cove and the rockpool?"
"We've unfinished business."
"Unfinished business?"
***
At the rockpool.
"Sis, you do me, the same way I did you."
"What?"
"Antônia used to do me. The operating principles are the same. There's a symmetry to it all."
"But, you're built differently."
"Yes, but I'll be out of your way."
"Huh?"
"You'll see."
They frolic native in the rockpool. Cole swims the five strokes to the far end, flips at the rock face, and then back. He moves like a gorgeous dolphin. Just the sight of this relaxes Julia for her task. This dolphin is smooth. She will be making it smoother.
Cole lies on the lounger cushion. He feels in and of the moment, so immersed in the here and now. And yet, he is reliving some delightful past of uncertain definition. His emotions in a wave.
He remembers their halcyon sibling days at the county fair, riding painted ponies that go up and down. He remembers holding Julia tight, his big sis, but so small, so that she doesn't fall off the carousel.
She inspects her brother. This rush of detail makes her a little giddy at first. Only the second manhood in her linear life. And now, so up close and personal. But, she enjoys the lift. Her finger parses the trees from the forest as she zones him out for the waxing. The tower of sequoia is so imposing. Height, trunk, girth, canopy coverage, volume, mass and age. But, it doesn't get in the way of the forest.
He instructs, "Sis, take a leaf and render it as we did when I waxed you."
It takes Julia a full five seconds before she realises what she has to do. In an act of socially conditioned modesty which is not particularly logical under the circumstances, she turns away from Cole and renders the leaf.
Julia preps Cole. True to form, he gets out of the way for her to wax his every nook.
When Julia is done, she playfully gives Cole's still in flourish penis a smack, "Lil' bro, you've been most collaborative. Thank you."
Continuing the mirth, Cole gets up, poses a little, "What do you think of your work?"
"On ne peut juger la farine que quand le pain est quet."
"One can only judge the flour after the bread is cooked."
"Hmmm..."
Cole arcs a dive into the rockpool. The dolphin thus freed, Julia joins him. He helps her clamber through the waterfall curtain. They enjoy the thundering torrent for awhile. Julia feels at home all over again.
They sit and lean languidly against the cave wall watching the fall like a movie with its volume turned down way low to hum. A silence winds itself around them, and binds them. They look around, then, at each other, fully realising at the same moment that they are now committed to one another in some strange way.
He looks at her pensively, "Do you believe in reincarnation?"
"It seems like alot of people are talking about past lives and all that. And even if you don't believe in that in a specific way, most people have a notion of an external soul, right?"
"Yes..."
Julia continuing, "Anyway, my thought is, if we all have our origins at the beginning of human history in some way, where do all the current souls, including yours and mine, come from? The earth's population 50,000 years ago was not even a million people. 10,000 years ago, it was only a few million. Today, 8 billion. That's more than 8,000 to 1 split of each original soul in just the last 5,000 years. A blip in earth's time."
Cole processing, "So at best, we're just a tiny fraction of a soul."
"Yes!"
"Is that why we feel so scattered?"
Julia doesn't answer. She moves in another direction, "How've you been managing since Antônia passed away?"
"Most days, it's like a sad melody with happy lyrics. Some days, happy melody, sad lyrics."
A deep pause.
Cole continues, "Antônia never did leave. There was no Antônia."
"Huh?"
"It's complicated..."
"How so?"
He casts a moist sentimental eye towards his sister as he reimagines time, "Antônia..."
He looks at her a little nervously and can't say it. She is minutely sensitive to the turbulent emotional detail. She is truly intrigued and a little excited at what he is struggling with. Finally, she places her finger to his lips.
Julia thinks of Virginia Woolf's "The Waves". I am not one person. I am many people.
They enjoy the ensuing comfortable silence.
He runs his hand over her feminine satin, "You've lovely skin."
Murmuring, "Get under my skin..."
It is said that only a body can truly know another body. They summon the joy out of their effort. Soon, they are in the zone. And in the golden mean of the zone.
She sees a rising cloud of butterflies of every hue. She sees their spread of wings as they bask in the sun. Now, the butterflies line up and take flight with excitement.
He strangles his long groan down into a brief, low grunt.
In the glow of aftermath, she grabs the back of his head and presses it to her, grinding her loins brutally against his face. Will she pulp his face? Her salty, earthy juices flow into his nostrils and mouth, and over his face. She tastes of overripe raw onion, a taste that goes straight to his groin.
He breathes in her strong womanly air. He wishes he can bottle a little of that excitement to stow away in a shoebox in the attic.
The End