Of Beauty Rich and Rare (a memoir)


The Offer

“You got a job yet?” My father’s cynical voice echoed through the receiver.

“Well fuck you too!” I replied, ready to hang up before he continued on.

“Wait, Cody. I apologise,” he offered, unlike him, and I brought the phone back to my ear. “It’s habit, I’m sorry. I…we need a favour.”

I rose from the couch and trailing the long phone cord turned down the stereo, Nirvana lowering their playing.

“I’m listening.”

“I’m back in Adelaide, I just got in. I have to fly to the Czech Republic soon as possible. Shit’s hit the fan in the Prague office and they need me there asap.”

“Wait, I thought you were on long service. Shouldn’t you be in Queensland right now!” I tried to remain cordial with the man.

“Well I am, I mean I was,” he sounded flustered. “Your mother’s still up there.”

“What? You came home without her?” I asked confused. “Why isn’t she going to Europe with you?”

To this Dad sounded genuinely amused at something I’d said.

“Your mother, in Europe, in winter!” And he needed not explain any more. Mum hated the cold. There wouldn’t be any way she’d be on that plane, free trip or not. “Look I don’t have long. I wasn’t just being an arsehole when I asked if you were working. Your mum’s up in FNQ with the caravan and that’s where you come in. And $400 to cover your time.”

“Um, what?” I asked, even more confused.

“Your mother can’t drive manual. We want you to drive the Land Cruiser and the van back to Adelaide.”

“That’ll take days!”

“Nine days in fact.”


“Your mother wants to see some of the country; I’ve plotted the route. There’s a plane ticket here at the house with your money along with instructions once you get to Cairns.”

“So you just assumed I’d say yes?” I agitated. “That I’d obviously have nothing else on!”

Dad was silent for a moment and I could see him choosing his words, holding his tongue.

“Look mate, I’d love to stay and fight with you but I’ve got literally half an hour to get to the airport,” he replied, noticeably controlling his temper. “Say you’ll do it. If not for me, for your mother.”

He knew that would sway his argument and I quietly agreed to go along.

I thought he’d hang up but again there was a pregnant pause

“Cody, are you two…good?” He asked and I could hear his trepidation posing the question.

“Yeah, we’re good.” I hung up and slumped back in the couch.

You see, there had been an incident. It was primarily the reason at just nineteen I’d left home in the first place. A weekend away with friends and on my return to my bedroom which my parents had seen fit to refurbish whilst I was out, a pair of my mother’s panties lay sitting on my mattress.

I can write about this honestly now. So much time having passed and knowledge my actions then weren’t so unique amongst boys my age. They were a pair I’d seen in the laundry hamper a week previous and even with the full understanding they were my mother’s, was attracted to their delicacy and picking them up, their warmth. Taking them to the bathroom and in privacy, examining them further. Made of blue satin, just their texture had me aroused but when I found the gusset still damp, it was when the real fascination kicked in.

The feeling of pressing them to my face; the smell they captured and dare I say it, the taste. Nothing; no magazine or video; no girlfriend had ever made me so hard. Maybe it was the taboo. Imagining it was my mother’s pussy that I was inhaling, her arse pressing against my face. Whatever, I was enraptured and not wishing to part, I secreted them away in my room for my personal gratification. Until that is, they were discovered.

I didn’t need to discuss it with Mum, Dad did all the shouting for her. The words he used, the shame he brought down on me, I used to fuel an anger towards him, and her for allowing it. It only took a few weeks and it became obvious, my staying under the same roof was untenable. In the end Dad offered me a small sum of money to leave and seemed glad to close the front door behind me.

A year after and we’d rarely spoken. I avoided family gatherings and communication was limited to brief phone calls when relevant information needed conveying. Just like that day’s conversation. I thought of the four hundred dollars Dad was offering as I packed a bong. I thought of the flight to the North of Australia as I gazed around my cramped flea bitten flat, the road trip ahead as I breathed in the smoke; and as I went to my room to organise a backpack, I thought of my mother. And it was a pleasant thought.


The Arrival

Sixteen hours, two trains, one flight and a bus ride later and I was stepping off into the tropical humidity of Far North Queensland. After a long walk where I should have taken Dad’s instructions and got a taxi, I entered the air conditioned reception of the caravan park and enquired after Mum’s site.

Walking through the park I noticed that it had probably seen better ataşehir escort days. I spied a pool at least and was thankful I’d remembered to pack my bathers before spotting Mum and Dad’s Land Cruiser and ageing camper-van at the end of a cul-de-sac. Looking forward to getting the backpack off my shoulders I made one last effort in the heat and approached her site.

She was sitting outside on a fold out chair when I laid eyes upon her. Her head in the shade of the annex attached to the side of the van, it was possible she was asleep as she was yet to acknowledge my approach. I certainly acknowledged her. With legs stretched out before her, she wore khaki shorts pulled up tight onto her groin to allow more skin exposed to the sun. This pressing the material hard against a large mound of pussy. Sweat glistened between her breasts, barely covered by a singlet rolled up over her stomach. Welcome to Queensland, I thought.

I closed the gap and still she was yet to see me until my foot scuffing on the road roused her and all of a sudden she sat forward, her face finally entering the sunlight.

“Well here he is,” she smiled, her hands immediately pulling the shorts from her crotch. “My knight in shining, well black armour!”

I looked down at my Doc. Martin boots, black shorts and long sleeved Pearl Jam shirt and admitted I probably wasn’t dressed for the weather.

“Hey Mum,” I responded letting my backpack fall from my shoulders beside the 4WD. “I finally made it.”

She was happier to see me than I thought she would and I accepted her embrace when it came, my hand pressing to the skin of her lower back..

I looked at my watch when she backed away. “A little late I guess.”

“Only an hour,” she quickly stated. “See your father doesn’t always plan things perfectly!”

I didn’t mention that if I took the taxi he’d accounted for I would’ve been perfectly on time.

“What’s with the boots and long sleeves?” Mum asked, tugging at the sleeve of my shirt.

“It wasn’t this hot when I left home,” I explained and Mum let her fingers trail down until she had me by the hand.

“Well come on, come inside and I’ll get you a cold drink. And you can get out of those clothes,” she added.

It was still uncomfortable. I’d only seen Mum one or two times since I’d told them both to go to hell (well, more so my father) and walked out not to return. I didn’t know if she was thinking about it, if she harboured any angst towards me for the things I’d said or she was still creeped out by what had led to it to begin with. Her demeanour was welcoming enough though and if she hated me, surely she would never have agreed to complete her journey with me.

All the sides of the camper-van were lowered to allow air flow through the mosquito mesh and out of the sun, it was definitely cooler. Not by much though and I was quick to take off my shirt as Mum directed me where to store my bag.

“Beer?” She offered as I glanced at her bum as she bent to open the small fridge. Don’t do it Cody! I told myself. But I was weak and allowed my eyes to take in her curves.

“Yes, definitely,” I replied, wrenching them away before she turned and caught me. That would be the last thing I needed so soon. To be fair, that we both needed.

“Oh goodness you’re so pale,” Mum commented as she passed me the can of XXXX.

“Well that’s because I haven’t been travelling around the bush for a month,” I smiled looking at the can. “No Coopers?”

“Oh it’s your father. When in Rome and all that!” She laughed. “Said we should be drinking local beer, so henceforth.”

I took a swig and appreciated the cold, regardless of the taste.

Mum sat down at the table and smiled at me.

“What?” I asked

“Oh you know, I’m just happy you’re here! I was getting lonely.”

“Yeah so what’s the deal with Dad anyway? How did work even contact him?”

“His bloody pager! I told him to leave it at home. They said it was an emergency and he had to fly over straight away. I certainly wasn’t going with him this time. Not Europe in the winter. You know how I am!”

I smiled, recalling Dad saying the exact thing.

“So your father has our route plotted out,” Mum rose and took down a map from a storage cupboard and opened it on the table. I looked at the red line and its roundabout direction home.

“Inland?” I remarked, surprised. “I thought we were hugging the coast. That’s the bloody desert!”

“Well not all the way!” She quickly responded and worked her way around to my side of the table, leaning over the map. “Not near the ranges.”

Her knee was pressing to my outer thigh and in the corner of my eye I could see the curve of breast beneath her arm, quickly leaning forward myself to remove the temptation.

“So we’re staying in National Parks and State Forests? Not caravan parks?” I asked, noting the pronounced dots signifying overnights.

“It’s not set in stone,” Mum elaborated. “If we find a nice place, avcılar escort we can stay longer or vice versa. Your father worked out it should take us at least nine days and he’ll be gone nearly two weeks so there’s no hurry for us to get home. It’ll be fun, just like when you were little.”

She walked to the other end of the van and I watched her progress, trying to drag my eyes from her bum but failing. What the fuck was wrong with me?

“Which reminds me,” Mum went on. “You can take the main bunk if you’d like your privacy, I’d be happy to sleep down here on the couch.” As she said it she lifted the table which turned the small lounge area below the upper bunk into a bed and readjusted the cushions ready to make up.

“No way, that’s yours,” I resisted. “As you said, it’s just like when I was a kid, I’m not kicking you out of your bed.”

Mum smiled in response. “You know your father wanted you to bring the tent and have you sleep outside.”

“What?” I decried.

“I know!” She laughed. “That would’ve been a bit weird wouldn’t it?”

“Ah, yeah. Like I was the staff or something.”

Mum dropped her eyes and clutched at the sheet she’d procured, her voice lowering. “You know he didn’t want you coming at all.”

I placed down the can and listened intently.

“He was going to pay someone from his work $800 to drive it home,” she raised her head and looked into my eyes. $800, I thought. A long way short of the $400 he’d left me on the kitchen table.

“But I insisted it had to be you,” Mum went on, her eyes still locked on mine. “We couldn’t trust the van with just anyone. And, I thought it would be good for…us. You know?”

I felt my face redden, knowing she was referring to our battles and possibly even my action that everything stemmed from and worked up to offering her a reassuring smile. “Yeah I do too.”


The process of packing up the camper-van and hitching it onto the 4WD the next morning came back to me as we prepared to leave, only now I was the one driving. Having never towed, I practiced reversing in the safety of the caravan park and soon got the hang of it and then we were off. Mother and son on a more than week long road trip half way across Australia, North to South-West.

“This is wonderful,” Mum laughed as she stretched her legs out, her feet up on the dash board of the Land Cruiser. “Your father would have a fit if he saw me doing this.”

I peered over at her smooth tanned legs. She’d allowed her white sun dress to fall to her hips, tucked between her thighs to protect her modesty but still extremely provocative and I couldn’t recall Mum ever being so carefree.

“Well what Dad doesn’t know can’t hurt him,” I offered and turned up the music.

“Damn right,” Mum laughed and turned the dial up further, singing along with the well played mix tape, a staple of all our family holidays.

More than two hours later we pulled into the small town we’d highlighted for lunch and walked the solitary main street in search of an eatery, settling on the busier of the two pubs. I saw it the moment I walked in but Mum hadn’t noticed as we ordered our meals at the bar and were walked through to the bistro by the owner. There was another in the restaurant, delivering meals to a table and with Mum’s back to her, still she was yet to notice what we’d accidentally stumbled in on.

I didn’t know how exactly to brooch it but thankfully the need was taken from my hands when one of them approached the table.

“Hi, so what can I get you guys to drink?”

Mum looked up from the table and was confronted with what I’d been feasting my eyes on since entering. Two bare breasts of stately proportions.

“On my God!” Mum shrieked, staring at the unexpected mammaries.

The diversion gave me a chance to admire the woman more closely. Possibly in her forties or late thirties, she wasn’t slim but curvy in the most attractive way. She wore denim shorts, seemingly painted on, her thighs bulging from the frayed edges, the crevice of her vulva on stark display.

“What is this?” Mum continued, still not over her initial shock.

The woman looked down at her own breasts, almost bemused. “Topless Tuesday! It’s clearly advertised outside.”

Mum looked to me and I shrugged my shoulders, shaking my head to indicate I had no idea before glancing back at her mammoth boobs.

“Um, I’ll have a G and T,” Mum managed, clearly embarrassed for me and I guess herself but trying to hide it.

“Uh huh, and you Honey?” She politely asked before Mum answered for me.

“Ah my son is driving, he’ll just have a Coke.”

“Oh! Your son?” She smiled at me and I again felt my cheeks redden. “It’s like that is it? Well Coke’s on the house Sweetie.” She winked at me and as she walked away I was hypnotised by her arse, her cheeks bursting from the denim.

“It’s like what?” Mum asked in a whisper and I feigned ignorance, not wanting to admit the woman was possibly hinting avrupa yakası escort at something incestuous.

We discovered there would normally be a gratuity of 20% on top of our meal to cover the ladies but the owner believed our story of accidentally walking in and promised to waive it. The meal like the service was fantastic. Mum relaxed and even spoke candidly with our waitress when she frequently attended our table. When we paid they even joked Mum had the assets to give the profession a go, which had images flooding my mind. I received a knowing wink from the topless goddess as we left. Was I that obvious?

A day passed; an uneventful night in a caravan park. The flash of a bra between the curtains of my mother’s bunk bed; an equally quick glance of her panties when she climbed over me in the morning, the white satin matching her nightie. I allowed myself the luxury of masturbating whilst she went off to the toilet block to shower and I admit that although my fantasy started out with the topless waitress, images of my mother in varying states of undress came to mind. I did nothing to chase them away.


The Camp Site

The State Forest bordered the Great Dividing Range and the road in was dusty and corrugated, my mother’s breasts bouncing accordingly when I happened to glance in her direction. The camp ground itself was large and with there being only one other occupant, we had a choice of sites.

“Ooh as far away from the toilet as possible,” Mum suggested. “Those things usually stink.”

I found a shady area and with Mum directing me, backed the van into the space a long distance from the other caravan and the solitary toilet block.

We had the camper-van set up in no time and made the site homely with our table and chairs beside the stone barbecue. Mum and Dad had purchased a camping shower in the time since I’d stopped holidaying with them and Mum directed me to an overhanging tree limb as the perfect location for setting it up, close to the rear of the van.

With the campsite organised, we still had the majority of the afternoon to relax in the summer heat. And was it hot!

“The thermometer in the car still says 38,” Mum enthused as she entered the camper-van.

I was laying back on my bed reading and as she stepped over me to climb up onto her own bunk, I again had the briefest glimpse up her dress. All day as we drove I’d wondered the colour of her panties, her floral sun dress not transparent enough to provide a tease, yet mid-stride over my prone body her legs parted just enough to reveal white cotton knickers with small pink spots.

She drew the curtain that provided privacy for her bunk and I felt her moving as she no doubt got changed only to have the curtain open once more and again climb over me still wearing the dress.

“Forgot something,” she explained as she made her way to a cupboard and retrieved some clothing before repeating her ascent.

Yet again she mounted the bed and strode over my legs. Oh she’d forgotten something alright! Obviously having no idea the view my position enabled, her legs parted to reveal she no longer wore the panties. Barely a second I saw it and my mind didn’t really register it was pubic hair I was looking at until after. A rich dark mat of fur that seemed impossible to believe was actually my mother’s pussy. I had seen my mother’s pussy.

“Are we doing one of those walks before dinner?” Mum nonchalantly asked as she again closed her curtain. The two sides had come together but parted ever so slightly in the middle and from the corner of my eye I saw the flash of the bare skin of her back as her dress was removed.

Her question to me went unanswered as my brain dealt with surging Oedipal dilemmas, until I gained some semblance of sanity and turned my head from the scene. Just in time. Mum poked her face through the crack in the curtains and repeated her query.

“Oh yeah sure,” I managed and turned to fully face her, satisfied she hadn’t thought me spying and her head disappeared from view. She’s naked. I told myself. Your mother is naked, right above you, behind a thin curtain. The words had my cock hardening and remembrance of the scent of her underwear from a year before flooded back. Now I had the image of her hairy pussy to go with it. All I need is to see her boobs, I mused and risked a quick stroke of my erection beneath my shorts.

“Well I’m ready when you are!” Mum threw back the drapes and climbed back down over me. She wore denim shorts that reached down nearly to the knee and although not sexy, did hug her bottom quite well. What was wore impressive was the bikini top that accompanied it. Brown; it wasn’t overly small but did give me a fair impression of what her breasts would look like unencumbered by clothing. Good enough for now, I thought.

As she bent before me to put on her walking shoes however, another tantalising detail arose. The denim had frayed below her left buttock to a point where her underwear was visible. It was possible she had no idea, the thin white strands of denim failing to hide the blue satin beneath. Yes the blue satin! The very blue satin I had been so obsessed with that had changed our lives. She was wearing the panties I had been using to masturbate with over a year previous. That I’d sniffed and coveted. That I’d tasted.

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