The Island of I - Chapter 3

Chapter 3

I awoke the next morning, somewhat astonished at feeling well rested and slightly disappointed, as the closest I could recall of any erotic dreams was a faint memory of my mother's face, her voice calling out to me plaintively. Having showered and dressed for another day of sweaty labor, I hurried downstairs in anticipation of seeing Mother, before I ventured off with Hector to clear the brush. But to my further disappointment, I found only Antonia with my breakfast at hand.

When I asked about my mother, Antonia only shook her head and said, "Missus Halloran is feeling unwell this morning and is still in bed."

This alarmed me, "Mother is ill?" and I started to rise from the breakfast table, my food and appetite forgotten. "Mother is ill?"

Before I could leave my seat and rush upstairs, Antonia had her hand on me, and with surprising strength, pushed me back down into my chair.

She smiled down at me, her great bosom brushing my back as she said softly, "Be not alarmed, young Master. Your mother is just somewhat out of sorts this morning." She sighed and shook her head before adding, "This island. Terrible loneliness here can sometimes take its toll on a person."

Antonia smiled and ran her hand through my scruffy hair as I had often seen her do with her own son. "Give her a little time, your mother. She will find her way and she knows that you will be there to help guide her." She leaned in and in almost a whisper, "In just a few days, your attentions have given her more happiness than she has ever known. I have seen this. A mother knows these things." She stroked my hair one more time and then gave me a playful slap on the head. "Now eat. It will be a busy day with much work, and that smelly fisherman is due today too."

---

Alas, that much was very true. Hector and I worked hard and silently for most of the morning, stopping only when the horn of the Vulgar Harpy began to bleat as it approached the island.

Father emerged from his study, looking weary and irritable, to oversee our unloading and carrying to the house fresh provisions. Father only shook off his weariness when Captain Waltern's men unload a small crate that bore labels that indicated it originated in Calcutta by way of La Plata and Veracruz.

"My office, lads and hurry!" Father had exclaimed, rubbing his hands together in what appeared to be demented happiness.

The box was heavy and despite the two of us, it was a struggle to carry up from the beach and up the stairs to the second floor. No doubt, it was weighted down with musty, moldy old books. We placed it on the floor of Father's office, suddenly aware that this was the first time either of us had been inside since the day we'd arrived.

It had been some sort of study before, but now books and scrolls covered most every surface, with charts and papers tacked to the walls. Some writing appeared to be in English, while others were in arcane runes and ideographs. A hand-made map sketched out a surface with rectangular objects in a rough circle and seemed highly reminiscent of the site Hector and I had been working for so long to clear. There was also a faint smell of something fetid in the air, possibly the remnants of a forgotten meal shoved into a nook or cranny, but seeming to be something worse.

Hector looked around the room and with a frown, said quietly, "Your father travels a dark path, my friend."

I gave him a curious glance and was about to ask him what he meant when Father appeared and banished us, commanding us to bring the rest of the fresh provisions up from the docks to the house. He ushered us out, and closed the door to his office behind him. Our last glimpse was of Father hungrily staring at the small crate.

Captain Waltern was unpleasant, but stayed only briefly after ascertaining that Mother would not emerge from the house. This was the only positive aspect of Mother secluding herself inside on what had proved to be a bright, sunny day.

---

After our break for lunch, Hector and I resumed work, speaking little although we both occasionally glanced towards the veranda in hopes of seeing my mother. Finally, Hector signaled me to halt for a water break.

As we passed the jug of cool water back and forth, he said, "You are troubled. Yes?"

I wasn't sure what to say and only nodded in response. "You are questioning your feelings for your mother?" Hector said with a sympathetic smile.

"You have..." I paused for a moment searching for the correct words. "You have infected me... with your sick thoughts and desires, Hector." I did not sound as accusatory as my words.

Hector's smile broadened. "Ahh. You now see your mother as a woman. As a man perceives a woman." He shook his head and sighed. "This is not sick, John, it is simply acknowledging that you are now a man, with a man's desires and feelings, and that you recognize your mother as a woman... a beautiful and desirable woman."

My voice sounded thick as I muttered, "Like you feel for your mother."

Hector dipped his head in acknowledgment and replied, "Absolutely, and she returns my feelings of love with equal passion. As you now well know."

I gasped, feeling as if he'd hit me in the stomach, driving all the air out of me. I felt my face begin to burn and my voice was a harsh grate when I finally managed to answer him. "You know? You know that I've watched you and your mother?"

He shook his head and laughed, "Truthfully, I did not. Making love to a woman like my mother consumes all my effort and attention, but Mama is different." He licked his lips and grinned wolfishly. "Even at the height of orgasm, when Mama's cunt tightens around my cock, she is still aware. She is what our people might call a Brujiho, a sort of witch. She perceived you watching us as we lost ourselves in our passion for each other. Both at the mossy pond and last night in our bedroom."

I could not look him in the eye, staring down at the ground as I muttered, "I am sorry. I can offer no reasonable explanation."

Hector waved his hand in dismissal. "Make no apologies, John. Mama and I take no offense. In our culture, to watch two people express their love in such a way is not wrong, but a celebration." Hector roughly squeezed my shoulder, making me look up to see the brilliant gleam in his eyes. "To be able to share our love for each other, with another, does nothing but enhance it, John. Mama told me that knowing you watched me fuck her hard last night, made her climax all the more wonderful!"

I felt my jaw drop in disbelief as I listened to his words. My head seemed to swim with this sudden scandalous and strange news, and I shook it to try and clear the cobwebs from my brain. "Your people approve of incest. My god. Who are your people? Incest is unacceptable everywhere!"

Hector smiled and patted me on the back. "Not true, my friend, not true. Yes, most of your so called Christians find it immoral or evil. But even amongst them, there are enlightened ones who understand that incest is simply another expression of love. To my people, it is one of the higher, more advanced forms of human love, with power beyond most human ken."

Again, I pressed the question. "Who are your people?"

Hector smiled and said, "Mama and I are of the Jahndi."

I shook my head in confusion.

"Many people call us gypsies, and there is truth there, in that we are related to those lost people who are properly called the 'Rom' or 'Romany.' But the truth is, we are only distantly related to them. We trace our ancestry back to a people who lived somewhere between Arabia and India, in a land now lost beneath the waves of the sea. Like the Romany, we have been nomads, some searching for a new home and others roaming the world and trying to find our place in it, or safeguarding against that which made us wanderers."

"What on earth might that be?" I asked, spellbound as if caught up in a child's fairy-tale.

Hector shook his head and replied, "That is not for me to speak of. Someday, perhaps, Mama would tell you more. It is her place as a Bruhijo to speak of such things."

I took a bit of time to digest this strangeness, and we both wordlessly resumed work, tearing away the brush and vines, clearing yet another stone slab covered with runic markings.

Finally, after forlornly glancing up at the still empty veranda, I said to Hector, "How long have you and your mother been... lovers?"

Hector smiled widely at me and said, "Since I was your age, my friend. I happily took my father's place between Mama's legs, after he died pursuing his obsession. I had dreamed of being Mama's man for a long time. But only after Papa's end, did Mama invite me into her bed."

I stopped working, a cold chill running down my spine. "How did your father die, Hector?"

He paused in his work, a frown passing over his face. "It was in Mombasa. He delved too far into things that were beyond him."

"What happened?"

Hector began to speak, but then shook his head. "No, it is not my place to speak of such things. I will speak to Mama and if she deems it proper, she will tell you herself."

I nodded, sensing that I was intruding somehow. I changed the topic, asking, "Are you... happy with your mother?"

Hector gave me an angelic smile. "It is the greatest joy one can know. One I pray that you will soon enjoy yourself."

My stomach felt like butterflies were rampaging inside as I contemplated his words. "Surely not. Neither my mother or I would ever consider such a thing."

Hector laughed and said, "You try and delude yourself, John. I have seen how you look at your mother. With such longing you gaze at her since the moment you and she stepped off that smelly troll's boat." He leaned in to me and said in a confidential whisper, "And she looks at you too, you know, with passion and desire that grows with each passing day."

I stepped back, feeling a thrill deep in my guts, yet also appalled. "You lie! Take it back!" I snapped defensively.

Hector pursued me, a knowing grin on his face. "I speak the truth. Yesterday proved it. Have you ever known your mother to ever dress like she did yesterday, revealing so much of her lovely body?"

In my mind, I could recall Mother, dressed in those tight capri pants and braless under my old work shirt. "No," I replied, barely above a whisper.

Hector pressed his argument. "For two nights running, she and you took a private walk along the beach. Did you both act the whole time in such a way that was simple and innocent... what you would consider the conduct of a proper mother and son?"

I shivered as I recalled the feel of Mother's large breast under my hand and the hardness of her throbbing nipple. "No" I replied again, barely audible. I heaved a great sigh and added more loudly, "But now she sequesters herself in her room, no doubt offended by my illicit attentions. What might be, will never be." I could barely keep a sob out of my voice, pained at letting my mother slip from my embrace, breaking through my resoluteness.

Hector draped an arm around my shoulders and said in a rush, "Do not despair, John. This is a difficult thing to do. Surpassing the narrow-mindedness of your upbringing to embrace such a different way of life takes a great deal of courage. You have this courage, and so does your mother. I see it. Mama sees it. You have come a long way on your own, but it is harder for your mother."

His words provided something I had not realized I hungered for, and also made suddenly and brilliantly clear about the travails Mother was enduring. "You mean... Father."

Hector nodded and replied, "Yes. Mama feels that your father is lost to your mother now. He travels his own way, ensorcelled by his own quest for knowledge. Your mother, may the Gods love her, tries to do right by him. But I think she begins to perceive that her love belongs to another... to you, John. Be patient and she will find her way into your arms."

I confess then, I wept as Hector embraced me as a friend and brother, waiting patiently until I was spent and then clapping me on the back. "Enough, my friend. The day has been long and hard. Your father will not notice if we break off a little early."

And so we did, slipping off to swim in the ocean, laughing and cavorting in the water until Antonia called us for dinner.

---

Mother came down for our meal, but sat silent and unresponsive the entire time, making monosyllabic remarks to any questions or comments I had. Antonia gave me encouraging smiles as she brought out the various dishes. But Mother would barely meet my gaze as we dined, and declined my offer to escort her on another walk.

Mother's pale face darkened as she looked down towards my feet and murmured, "I am not myself tonight, son. I believe I will turn in early."

"Another time, perhaps," I said meekly, hoping for some positive comment.

Mother merely nodded and slipped away.

I pushed my plate away and stared at the old, lace tablecloth until I realized Antonia was standing next to me, with heat radiating from her body... from her bosom that hovered close to my face.

She whispered softly, "Patience, boy. Your mother is strong and wise, but much must be unlearned. New knowledge is like birth itself. It is never easy, and often painful." She stroked my hair with her fingers.

I looked up into her dark eyes, wanting to say so much, to ask so many questions, but hadn't a clue how to begin.

Antonia nodded and leaned down and kissed me on the forehead. "Hector says you two had a very good talk this afternoon. Said that your eyes are beginning to see many new things."

I felt my skin begin to burn, and knew I was turning red. "Yes, Ma'am," I replied meekly.

Antonia laughed and hugged me to her, pressing my face into her soft, pillowy bosom. I could smell her, a powerful earthy scent mixed with cinnamon. I felt my penis...no, my cock, throb in response.

She said, "Soon your mother will see with such eyes, and you and she will know the love, the joy," her voice suddenly grew huskier as she finished, "The pleasure that a mother and son can share. I look forward to the day that Hector and I might display our union to you both, and who's to say who will take the most pleasure from it, your and your mother, or us."

The voluptuous woman released me, only to duck down and kiss me on the lips. "I liked you watching us. It made me feel more like a woman, more like a mother than ever before. You need not hide and watch us, John Halloran. Our door will never be locked for you."

She grinned lustily at me and winked once, and then picked my plate up and walked off into the kitchen while I sat there in stunned silence and pondered her words.

My evening passed slowly. I paced restlessly around my room and then in the study. I was hoping Mother might emerge from her self-imposed exile and at least be in the same room with me, both of us quietly reading as we had often done, but she never emerged. Walking the hall of the upstairs, I thought I heard Father laughing or talking to himself, and I wondered if he would forgive an intrusion to talk with his son. Somehow, I knew that that particular path would lead nowhere.

I went downstairs and prowled around the grounds. I considered working on the pool, but it was getting dark and I'd lost the light. Peering down into the messy concrete, the pool took on a menacing quality, the bottom lost in shadow. I returned to the house and ambled around the kitchen, searching vainly for something that would satisfy the hunger that welled inside me. I discovered no food that I coveted, and instead found my attention drawn to the door leading to the servants' quarters.

Antonia's words came back to had echoed in my ears since she had spoken them to me after her soft kiss, 'Our door will never be locked for you.' I sat at the kitchen table and toyed with the salt and pepper shakers resting there, unfolding and refolding a linen napkin a dozen times over, my eyes constantly wandering towards that door.

Suddenly, I found myself standing before the door, my hand on the knob. My mouth was dry and my knees felt rubbery and weak. Part of me knew that this was wrong, immoral, and sinful, to even consider such actions. Still, at a loss over all that seemed out of reach in my life, I found myself opening the door and passing through.

The hallway beyond, with several open doors, seemed no different than those upstairs, save that it was narrower. Peering into a coupe of the servant's room, they were much smaller.

All seemed quiet as I moved further in. Then I heard a soft, mewling sound from the far end of the hallway. The door to that room was closed, but I could see lights flickering from under the door. I cautiously made my way there, passing a room with books scattered about and an old record player with albums stacked neatly beside it. I presumed they used that room as their living area or study.

The sound became stronger and more pronounced. I perceived that it was Antonia's voice, although she spoke no words. It was clearly an expression of pleasure. I paused for a moment at the door, nervous and scared, and already I could feel my penis swelling in my pants. I tried the knob and it was unlocked, and the door swung open easily,

Antonia's moans were louder than my own gasp, as I gazed upon mother and son engaged in a carnal activity I had only heard of. Antonia was stretched out upon their large brass bed, her fingers wrapped around the brass rails of the headboard. Her naked body was flexing and straining as she flung her hips upwards to more fully press her wet and wide open pussy into her son's face. Her immense breasts rolled about her chest, capped by darkened points of thick, rubbery flesh, swollen hard in her arousal.

Hector was oblivious to my entry, so busy was he in swirling his tongue over and about his mother's sex. Her slick, pink flesh almost pulsated with sexual energy, while her thick bush scratched his cheeks, turning them an angry red. As his tongue slathered over a swollen appendage of flesh that I perceived was that almost mystical feminine organ called a clitoris, he was simultaneously thrusting two fingers in and out of her wet slit, fingers gleaming with the juices of her arousal.

His mother, deep in the throes of incestuous pleasure, still somehow managed to sense that they were not alone. She turned her dark, glazed eyes towards me, offering up a leering smile of greeting. Antonia gradually managed to force free words from her sweetly tortured body, "Ohhhh yes... Pleas-sure me well... my son... S-show John how a s-son properly... treats his Mmmmmm... his mother."

Hector turned slightly, his mouth never leaving his mother's pussy. He revealed his swollen erection, long and thick and hard, throbbing with desire for his mother. He gave me an odd smile, his tongue never ceasing its loving caresses of Antonia's wet flesh. After winking slyly at me, he returned to focus on pleasuring his mother.

Antonia's body shook with tremors of ecstasy as her son's mouth brought her closer to heaven. Somehow she managed to gesture towards a chair pulled up close to their bed, as if awaiting a visitor. The seat afforded a ringside view of their taboo lovemaking.

I suddenly found myself sitting in that chair, close enough that I could see the sweat on their bodies, which were emanating great heat. From between Antonia's thighs, a strong, arousing scent made my member throb with terrible need. I had no recollection on opening my fly and freeing my erect penis, but suddenly I had it in my hand, stroking it feverishly as Antonia writhed on the bed in utter pleasure.

Stroking myself, I shivered with delight and was enthralled at the sight of Antonia's pussy being so wet. Gushes of her arousal painted her son's cheeks and chin as she bucked her pelvis against his face. Her expression grew more frantic as his tongue worked busily over her pink, swollen flesh.

"S-see, John... s-see... how wonderful it can be... buh-between mother and son?" Antonia moaned.

One of her hands clawed the sheets, while the other busily mauled her own breast, fingers pinching and tugging at her swollen nipple more brutally with each stroke of Hector's tongue.

Antonia suddenly let out a tremendous cry as her body stiffened and then arched. Her orgasm nearly brought me to tears as she lifted her voluptuous hips off the bed, mashing her pussy against her son's face as he continued to lick her and thrust now four fingers deep inside her. Deftly he tucked his thumb in, forming all his fingers into a single blunt object and pushed his entire hand inside his mother's aroused vagina.

Hector's mother's cries became a shriek. Despite her sudden bucking and convulsing, his mouth somehow remained latched to Antonia's pussy as he buried his hand inside her to the wrist. His mother sobbed and cried wordlessly, but even in the height of her incestuous climax, the noise that came from her gasping mouth still conveyed absolute love for her son.

I felt my shame at being an intrusive voyeur, of such an intimate moment, melt away as I became enthralled with the exhibit of lust and love. I lost control myself, and cried out as I too began to climax, barely moving fast enough to catch my sudden ejaculation in my free hand as I furiously stroked my spewing cock. My palm was a canopy for the spurts of semen to rebound and coat my clenching fist. I gasped right along with Antonia, as she regained some semblance of control.

She groaned, "I love you, Hector, my sweet beloved son."

He murmured something unintelligible in reply, busy as he was lapping up his mother's copious juices of arousal. This made her moan further in utter pleasure, until she drew back one shapely leg, and placed her foot on his shoulder, pushing him away. Hector laughed as he rolled over onto his back, his tongue lolling around his lips to scoop up her juices. His erection now towered in the air at his hips.

Antonia gave me an odd, leering grin as she struggled up and threw her leg over her son's midsection. She straddled him, facing his feet, and his hard penis was now cushioned against her thick pelt of pubic hair. She took it in her hand and stroked it, rising up on her knees to run the swollen crown between her broadly parted labia. Although I could no longer see my friend's face as his mother sat astride him facing me, I knew from his groans that he was enjoying her wetness and warmth.

Antonia's breasts rose and fell entrancingly as she still struggled to regain her breath. Her words were measured and clipped and full of hungry desire as she spoke. "You see... the beauty... the wonder... that is a mother and a son fucking... Yes, John?"

She inserted the head of his penis inside her, moving his shaft back and forth as if stirring up her flowing juices. "Let yourself go, sweet boy... Know that a mother and a son are also man and woman... And lust coupled with love is POWER!" she cried out, screaming the last word. 

Antonia lowered herself slowly onto her son's swollen shaft, mewling as her wild black bush compressed against his scrotum. Fully impaled on her son's erection, she sat up on his lap and grabbed her huge breasts with both hands. Antonia already lingered close to orgasm, from Hector's oral attentions. Now filled with his swollen penis, she wriggled her hips back and forth atop him, barely able to control herself as ecstasy raced through her body.

She pinched fingers over her nipples, swollen to the point of bursting. Her mouth hung open in utter bliss as she rolled her hips forward and back, grinding her pussy against her son's crotch. Antonia began to wail from the pure and unadulterated pleasure that fucking her son could bring. Her scent, already thick in their bedroom, grew stronger, inflaming my senses as I inhaled her powerful musk, making my aching cock throb all the harder.

Antonia came slowly out of the mindless bliss of her incestuous orgasm and leaned back over Hector's chest. She lowered both of her hands and planted them on the bed behind her, arching her back as she thrust her immense breasts upward. Her knees spread wide and her hips rolled up, revealing to me, her wild black bush and splayed, swollen labia, skewered by her son's hard penis. She licked her dark lips and hissed, "Take me, son"

Hector's fingers appeared, his hands grasping his mother's waist from behind. I was truly transfixed, staring at their union as his hips began to undulate. I watched his long shaft, glistening with her wetness, appear and disappear with each upward thrust as he speared his mother's womanhood. White froth from her orgasm was evident, smeared on the underside of his shaft.

Antonio's arms were stiff, holding herself up as she sat back on her son's belly. Her huge breasts hung to the sides now, and her thick, hard nipples pointing outward as her fleshy breasts wobbled rhythmically with their fucking. In between moans of "I love you, son," came those unrecognizable words I had on previous nights, "Matre Tiambo un Umano un Estasium Victre Diablas!"

Over and over, Hector's mother chanted those words when she could manage to do more than moan at the pleasure her son's cock was providing. Each time, the chant seemed to emerge from her mouth more loudly and possessing more energy, more power. The power washed over me, and like the scent of her pussy, seemed to fuel my own lust.

"Matre Tiambo un Umano un Estasium Victre Diablas!"

Antonia rocked her hips counter to her son's thrusting as she rode her son with growing passion and need. Her enormous breasts rolled wildly as her son's stiff, wet cock slid in and out of her wet pussy. Each time his cock appeared, her fleshy labia clung to the shaft, only to roll up as if pulling his cock back up to disappear inside her again. 

Her face became something between a snarl and a wail as orgasm took her higher, until she began screaming shrilly. "Matre Tiambo un Umano un Estasium Victre Diablas!"

With her glorious climax, Antonia sat up and sank heavily on her son's cock, which seemed to heighten her orgasm. Her mouth hung open and her breasts shook as she shuddered weakly atop her son.

In the beauty of such sexual abandon, I groaned almost in time with Hector and knew that we were both climaxing at the same time, inspired by his mother's incredible display of sexual delight.

Again, I cupped my already semen-filled hand and ejaculated a torrent of hot seed. My second orgasm was so violent that my cock ached pleasurably. I glanced down at the sticky pool of semen in my palm and the strands of semen that covered my fist, still clenching my cock. I looked up again just in time to see Antonia twist and slid off her son, a nearly obscene and wet noise coming from their joined crotches as her son's still mostly erect cock pulled free of her semen-filled vagina.

Now curled at her son's side, Antonia pitched forward and bent down to kiss her son's wet cock. She cupped his scrotum gently with one hand as she licked his softening shaft and sucked at dollops of their combined lovemaking. Hector's chest moved up and down as he caught his breath and he rubbed one hand over his mother's naked shoulder. He spared me a glance and grinned proudly as he eyed his mother's voluptuous hips. Antonia turned her head to look sleepily at me, not speaking, but telling me with her smile how much she had enjoyed having sex with her son.

My desire to see Hector and his mother make love, or fuck, was sated, and now overpowered by the sense that I was again an intruder, viewing the aftermath of a very intimate scene. On shaky legs, I rose to my feet. Awkwardly, I tried to put my wet penis back into my pants, but found it difficult with one hand holding a great quantity of my slowly cooling semen.

The embarrassing spectacle came to a complete stop when Antonia said in a lust thickened voice, "John, come here."

I looked at her with panic in my eyes, and then glanced around for a towel or tissue to wipe my hand off.

"Don't you dare, boy!" Antonia intoned, her eyes filled with a dangerous fire. "Come here!" she repeated.

Antonia sat up, her immense breasts swaying. "I presume much in this, as I would prefer to have your mother's permission before handling your lovely cock, John." 

She reached out and gently tucked me back inside my pants. I held my wet hands up, waiting for a towel, and watched her carefully zip up my fly. Then she reached and took hold of both of my wrists, drawing my semen-filled palm and my semen-streaked fingers towards her face.

"But, I will not allow such nectar of the gods to go to waste."  She smiled up at me and I could feel the mother's love that Hector had known all his life.

Antonia bent her head over my cupped palm, straightening out my fingers before she began to lap my semen up with her tongue. She pressed her lips to my palm as her tongue swirled and scooped up the thick pool of semen. I felt my cock twitch in arousal as Antonia made appreciative noises. Her lips and tongue were hot against my palm, and I held my breath as I watched her consume my semen. She licked my palm clean, giving it one final, loving lick before releasing that hand.

Then she turned to my other hand, and licked at my fingers. Her tongue pressed between my fingers to collect the sticky semen, and she sucked my wet knuckles. For the briefest of moments, I pictured my mother's face instead of Antonia, lovingly licking my hand. The vision passed as quickly as it had manifested, and Antonia released my hand. She used her own finger to wipe the semen smearing her lips, before sucking her fingertip as if she was tasting freshly prepared meringue.

Antonia smiled up at me, "Thank you, John Halloran."

"T-thank you, Missus Antonia," I gasped, my head swimming so much, I could barely keep to my feet.

"Go rest now, John. Great and demanding days lie ahead, and you will need your strength."

Hector's mother slowly and lithely moved back on the bed, much reminding me of a big, sleepy cat, as she lay to cuddle with her son. She pressed her huge breasts against her son and wrapped one arm over his chest, and one leg over his crotch, hiding his flaccid penis from view. Her eyes gleamed as she rested her head on her son's bare chest. A small and pleased smile was on her wet lips.

I wanted to ask her what she meant by that, but she had already closed her eyes. Hector nodded reassuringly at me and closed his eyes. As I retreated, I took one last glance between Antonia's legs, as if I wanted one last image to fantasize about later. Pressed against her son's thigh, her black furry bush was split by her wet, fleshy labia, with a haphazard squiggle of white semen stuck atop her wet inner thigh.

How I climbed the stairs, I don't remember. Neither do I recall coming to a halt before Mother's bedroom door. How long I stood there I didn't know. I ached to knock on the door, to enter and declare my love and my lust for the woman who'd given me birth, but I was frozen still.

With the memories of Antonia and her son vividly in my head, and with visions of my desires for mother, I slowly retreated to my bedroom. I fell into bed in a state of near exhaustion. As sleep took me, I wondered what my dreams might be filled with tonight.

---

I became suddenly awake in my bed, aware that I had fallen asleep without having even bothered to undress. I was also aware that I was not alone. Sitting up, I looked around.

The room was dim, but not dark, as the full moon's light streamed through my open window. The curtains fluttered in the mild breeze, and the smell of the ocean wafted into my room. Movement caught my eye, and out of the shadows stepped my mother, naked as the day she was born.

My voice died in my throat as I beheld her unclothed beauty. Her blonde hair, gleaming like gold in the moonlight, was undone and hanging over her shoulders. A few golden tresses rested on her sizable breasts, calling my attention to their magnificence, with long nipples standing out, hard and firm. Below her white breasts, Mother's pale belly swelled slightly. Further down, her mat of golden curls was shaped like an inverted triangle, pointing towards her sex. Her labia hung long and thick and slightly parted, glistening in the nighttime light of the moon.

"Son," she breathed slowly, holding out her arms to me. "I love you, son."

I was out of the bed, feeling my penis becoming instantly erect, throbbing with a sweet ache. I was spellbound as Mother moved towards me, even as I realized that there was something out of the ordinary. I first perceived it as I realized that I could see moonbeams coming through my mother, giving her an ethereal quality, and then that her body left tendrils of wispy vapor as she floated towards me.

My first reaction was that I was dreaming. Then Mother's fingers plucked at my clothes. I don't recall her unbuttoning my shirt, or unbuckling my pants, but my clothes were in a heap around my feet.  I was naked as she closed with me, wrapping her arms around my neck as she drew me in for a kiss. Her touch was warm and moist and somehow unsettling, not that it mattered, as I felt her erect nipples push against my bare chest. She drew her lips closer to mine.

"Mother," I whispered. "I love you so much!"

"I love you, son. So much that I ache for you," she breathed into my mouth.

Then she was kissing me, her tongue long and serpentine, winding around mine with knowledge and agility that stunned me into utter compliance. Mother drew a leg up and wrapped it behind my thigh, drawing herself up. She press her crotch against my erection, revealing how wet and aroused she was, with liquid heat emanating from between her legs. She seemed to climb up my body, as she wrapped her other leg around me. Her... pussy, yes, Mother's pussy felt so incredibly hot and slick. Mother was almost crooning with pleasure, as she clung to me and kissed me.

I'm not sure how, but her sex enveloped my erection and swallowed it, making me cry out as she took me inside herself. She was so wet and so tight, so wonderful. Mother threw her head back and gave a soulful cry as she hunched her hips against me. Her feet now dug into the back of my thighs, as her legs flexed, and she pulled me into her, deeper and so terribly hot and wet.

Flames burned in Mother's eyes, reflecting red fire from a source I do not know, as she moaned, "Fuck me, John! Fuck your mother!"

Reality seemed to fade around us, and we were in a misty realm where even our bodies seemed to dissipate and then reform. Mother's pussy was wrapped around my cock, taking all of me as she ground her sparsely haired mound against my wiry pubic hair. Her arms and legs held me tightly as her pussy pulsed and massaged my erect penis. She kissed me again, her mouth wet and eager, her tongue seeming to grow and envelop mine.

I tasted her saliva, and then I realized I could taste her arousal, and it seemed as if my tongue was swirling inside her pussy even as she slowly rode my cock. Her flesh was warm and slick around my face, her scent strong -- stronger than Antonia's had been, my nose tickling her wrinkled folds as I lapped at her labia and flicked my tongue over her swollen clitoris. In a state that was more dreamlike, yet more vivid than any dream I could ever recall, I seemed perfectly happy to be licking my mother's wet pussy, while simultaneously fucking her wet and tight pussy.

Mother's juices flowed, soaking my chin, and running off to splatter our chests. The wetness made her skin slicker and hotter with each passing second. Her whole body seemed to pulse with need and desire, smearing my skin with her essence even as her arms and legs and torso seemed to expand and surround me.

My head swam in the maddening aroma of my mother's aroused sex that seemed to be all around me. Wet, slick flesh devoured me until my world was nothing but Mother's pussy, wrapped around my cock. My face was buried in it, ravenously slurping her juices, while my penis was also inside her. Mother's vagina caressed every inch of me, as I experienced undreamed of pleasure.

All the while I could somehow hear Mother's thoughts screaming inside my head. She was begging, demanding, insisting that I fuck her... that I fuck my mother forever... that she loved me more than life itself and all she wanted was to have me inside her for all eternity!

Pleasure built for both of us, and within the only reality I could comprehend -- the reality of my mother's sweet pussy -- I began an orgasm like never before. My throbbing penis was gushing what seemed to be a bucket of semen inside her. She reached climax as well, coating me, coating my entire body with her hot juices, that were they to drown me, I would die contented. As we experienced the earth-shaking, mutual orgasm, our world became a white hot thing, exploding with uncontainable pleasure, until it obliterated all senses, and the entire universe became incestuous pleasure.

"I love you Mom!" I screamed.

And then I gasped, as suddenly I was once again in the real world. It felt like a cold and forlorn place, after experiencing the perfect existence that was my mother's pussy. Tears began to streak down my face as I realized I was in my room, in my bed. I was naked, and lying in a pool of my own seed, now quickly cooling. A sob forced its way past my lips as I realized that it had been a dream. I never wanted to leave that existence, but was forced to return to a harsher reality.

Even the morning sunlight now streaming through my bedroom window seemed ugly and coarse.

I brought my hands to my face to wipe my eyes and stopped as the odor filled my nostrils. I reeked of... for lack of a better word, pussy. I ran fingers down each arm, feeling the remnants of something still wet and sticky in places, dry in others. Running my hands through my hair, I felt drying sweat and something else. I knew on the most primal and instinctual level that it was pussy juice, specifically my mother's!

As when I had discovered the knees dirty and torn on my pajama bottoms, just a few days before, the world seemed to tilt off kilter. My mind wanted to hide and gibber as I suddenly knew that things were not as they should be.

I eased from the bed, amazed at how sticky my crotch was with my own semen. Stripping out of the wet pajamas, I stumbled to the shower, and stood under the hot water till my skin felt scalded. I felt grateful to be clean, but also mourned the loss of Mother's enchanting aroma.

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I stripped the bed and remade it with fresh linens, shivering as echoes of my dreams, if that was truly what it was, flickered in and out of my mind. Questions of what was real fought with questions regarding my own sanity, as I worked up the courage to finally venture downstairs.

In the hallway, I noticed Mother's door was open. Peeking in, I saw that her bed was made and the room vacant. Encouraged by this, I hurried down the stairs to the kitchen, my heart growing lighter as I heard my mother's muffled voice. I went quickly through the door only to come to a sudden stop.

I was confronted by the sight of Mother sitting at breakfast, wearing a thin, but modest robe wrapped around her body. Antonia hovered nearby. To my surprise, Father was standing at the other end of the table, bent over a wrinkled map. He was pointing out something to Hector, who stood next to Father, and was also looking down at the map.

"John. Good morning," Mother said softly, her face reddening as if embarrassed. She gave me a weak smile and then looked down at her plate of half-eaten food.

Father looked up, a frown on his face. "About time, boy. You've slept the morning away. There's work to be done." He pointed down at the map. "Come here, John."

Antonia interrupted, "Work can wait. Breakfast first, Mister Halloran." She gave me an evil smile that recalled to us both the lewd scenes of last night.

Father made a snorting noise as I approached, "Here. You and Hector will clear away the brush here today."

He pointed down and I saw that there was a relatively new sheet of paper with our work mapped out on it, resting atop a much larger and much older map. The newer map had sketched out the marble slabs we'd uncovered, revealing their circular pattern. Father's finger lingered on a blank area between the nearly dozen slabs we'd found.

He announced, "I believe the altar lies hidden here, in all the undergrowth."

I fidgeted nervously at his side, sparing Mother a long, yearning look as I asked in a hoarse voice, "Altar?"

Father nodded impatiently. "Yes, yes. The altar that Isprey used in his summoning must be here! It has to be. Concentrate here today. Let me know as soon as you've uncovered it!"

He pointed to the older map and I realized it was very similar, marking out the marble slabs. Separating them in the middle of the semi-circle's arc was something larger -- the altar, I supposed.

Father grinned. Then, for the first time in a long time, he surprised me by clapping me on the shoulder. "We're so close, John! So close. People laughed and snickered at me, but not for much longer. No, they won't..." His voice faded into unintelligible mumbling and his eyes were suddenly clouded with emotions that worried me.

Suddenly, Father rolled up his maps and said, "Summon me the moment you've uncovered it, John... the very moment." He began to stride towards the door, returning I assumed to his office.

Mother raised her voice and asked of her husband, "At least stay and have breakfast with us, Thomas. It's been so long since we sat down as a family and spent time together."

Father paused and then violently shook his head. "No time, Carmen. There is no time! My work must continue. I must finish it so. I must be prepared."

He turned, and even as my mother called out to him, imploring him to stay awhile, he marched out the door. His footsteps could be heard a moment later, bounding up the stairs.

As Antonia returned with my breakfast, Mother sighed heavily. Her eyes watered as she stared down unhappily into her lap. Hector disappeared back into the kitchen and Mother and I finished our breakfast in an uncomfortable silence.

As I was finishing up, Mother excused herself and headed towards the stairs. Antonia, gathering up Mother's plate, gave me a knowing stare and turned her eyes towards Mother's exiting figure before nodding at me. I understood her expression and leapt up from my seat, and hurried after my mother.

I caught up to her at the bottom of the staircase. "Mother, are you feeling better?"

Mother's body shivered slightly at the sound of my voice. She turned, her face reddening again as she looked down at me from the stairs. Maybe it was my imagination or my own desires, but it seemed as if Mother's nipples were hard under her robe, becoming noticeable.

In an uncertain voice, she replied, "I'm feeling better, I think. My sleep has been strange. But I am feeling more rested this morning." A faint smile played across her lips and she added, "I feel a little more relaxed."

I grinned back, "I am so glad, Mother. I have missed you so much. Perhaps you would care to take a stroll this evening. The fresh air might do you good."

Mother's face turned redder and her hands fluttered around her throat, fingering the collar of her robe. "I'm not sure, son. We... um... Let's see how I feel this afternoon." She turned to continue up the stairs.

I moved to the step below her and placed my hand over hers, on the polished wood rail. "I hope you do feel up to it, Mother. I've missed our times together." I tightened my hand around hers, wanting to say so much, but unable to put it into words that seemed adequate. "I've missed you, Mother."

Mother looked down at her feet, unable to bring her eyes to face my earnest expression. "I missed spending time with you too, John," she said softly, finally bringing her brilliant blue eyes to my face. She reached out and cupped a hand on my cheek and whispered, "Maybe, son. Maybe."

Pulling from my hand's grip, Mother hurried up the stairs. I watched, aching to take her lithe form in my arms.

The day passed slowly, as Hector and I labored hard and silently to clear away the brush according to Father's instructions. It proved more difficult than usual, as the plant growth was denser and thornier where we tried to find the supposed structure it hid. I had sensed in Hector a desire to discuss the previous night's events, but there was a storm on my brow that perhaps influenced his decision to not bring it up.

After a mute lunch, we were both angry and frustrated with our slow amount of progress. Our ire enhanced in the late afternoon as the sun began to set, when Father showed up to inspect our progress or as he perceived it, a lack thereof.

With a walking stick, Father poked and prodded at the brush, muttering over and over, "You must be close, lads. Just a little more effort!"

"Sir, tomorrow we will have it," panted Hector, his olive complexion shiny with the sweat of labor.

"Damn it all!" growled Father. "I've waited so long. It must be here. It's all so plain to me. I must have it!" He paced about in frustration, still peering into the dense foliation.

I expected him to insist we continue working, but Antonia appeared on the porch and cried out. "Enough! Come clean up and eat!"

My father frowned her way, but I sensed that he was not willing to challenge her on this.

Hector and I happily abandoned our labors, going to the beach for a quick and refreshing dip before returning to the house, anxious to dine with our respective mothers.

Continued in Chapter 4

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