I Have Been Here Before

Prologue.

They lay together in their post-coital relaxation stroking each other and murmuring words of love and fulfillment, his hand still softly caressing her breast. As Amanda lay there, sensitive to that lovely softness that women experience following sensual gratification, her mind began to roam back over the years to what had led up to this, their first time.

The Beginning.

It had started many years ago when, at the age of forty her mother died. It had taken two years from the onset of the wasting disease, for her mother, also called Amanda, to find the release of death. She and her father had watched over her, cared for her, loved her, and when she was finally admitted to the Hospice, they had sat with her hour after hour for three weeks.

Two days before she died her mother had said to her and her father, "Care for each other. Comfort each other." After that she slipped into a coma and said no more.

The death was no sudden shock. They had anticipated it for two years. Yet even so, the wrenching out from one's life of someone dearly beloved leaves a wound that can take long to heal, and for some, never heals.

Amanda had loved her mother dearly, and her father and mother had been that most wonderful of combinations, friends and lovers. Amanda had seen how they loved each other, and had often heard them in their expression of that love – her father's moans and her mother's cries as they came to orgasm.

After the death, both Amanda and her father seemed to turn in on themselves, taking the pain of their loss somewhere deep down into their psyches. They made no outcry, they shed no tears, and sadly, a gulf seemed to open between Amanda and her father.

Those who knew them were amazed. Knowing the love that had flowed between mother, father and daughter, they had expected signs of great grief, floods of tears, some external signs of their bereavement. They saw none, apart from a grim isolation as two people went into their own separate inner prisons of grief.

A Year Goes By.

In the following year they continued to occupy the same house, but seemed to lead almost separate lives. Allan, her father, was a handsome man, and during the course of the year had many offers ranging from making him a cup of tea, through suggestions of "Deep and meaningfuls," to marriage.

Even if he might have been attracted to any of the "suggesters," the pain of his beloved's passing was too great for him to be interested. He went to work, came home, ate his meal, and spent the evening either going through the family photograph albums, or sat staring into space. As for Amanda, she dropped out of social life and wrapped herself in her work and doing her share of the household chores.

Friends and relatives ceased calling, and Allan and Amanda lived in the dark world of their loss.

Daylight Again.

It was on the day of the first anniversary of her mother's death that the storm finally broke. Amanda came upon her father sitting in the lounge with a photograph of his dead wife held in his hands. Tears were streaming down his face. Amanda went to him and sat beside him on the sofa and put her arms round him and wept with him.

There poured out from them those repetitive words and phrases so common in times of great heartache. The "why" questions, the little guilts and "If only's," that obsess us when it is too late to say the words or do the deeds.

My friends, if you love, then tell your beloved, for tomorrow may be too late.

And so Allan and Amanda clung to each other weeping and mourning, and as can so often happen in times of great emotional crisis, the undiscriminating emotions can turn down strange and unexpected channels.

Bear in mind that Allan had not been sexually close to a woman for three years and Amanda's last boyfriend had long ago departed her company. Their sexual needs had been buried with their grief, and now, as this grief burst to the surface, so did their innate sensuality.

Amanda, stroking Allan's face, drew his hand to her breast and said, "Father, let's make each other whole again."

There, on the sofa, they came together in and act of healing love. The pent up emotions of their long denial exploded in a weeping, moaning, sexual act of such power as to leave them exhausted. As Allan came, he cried out, "Amanda, my love." His daughter did not know if that cry was for her or her mother.

Their faces drenched with tears and genitals soaked with each other's fluids, they lay, momentarily sated, looking into each other's eyes.

Allan made a mental effort to feel guilty at taking his own daughter, even though it was at her encouragement, and sensing his thoughts, Amanda whispered, "Mother said we were to care for and comfort each other."

That night Amanda took her mother's place in the marriage bed for her own bridal night.

A New Beginning.

Once begun, Amanda and Allan could hardly leave each other alone. Both were experienced lovers, Allan with his wife and Amanda with a couple of rather unsatisfactory boy friends. In their fist night of love, they found in each other the completion of their humanness.

Amanda felt herself explored in every crevice of her body. Allan possessed her, as she had never been possessed before. She gave herself willingly and passionately, denying Allan or herself nothing. Allan's orgasmic cries she now knew to be for her, and come what may, there could no be no turning back.

In the morning, they awoke as healed beings.

Creation Sings.

She knew when it happened. That mysterious instinct women have almost signaled the very moment.

It was on a night when after long and fervent foreplay, Amanda felt herself to be in that most wonderful state of female arousal. Wetter, softer and more receptive than ever, yet with powerfully gripping vaginal muscles.

Allan entered her, and she both yielded and drew him into her. As their orgasms approached she cried out to him, "Make me pregnant, my love, please make me pregnant." Allan, after the fashion of men, said nothing aloud, but even before Amanda's cry he had prayed, "God, let me make her pregnant tonight."

As Allan came into her, she sucked him with her vaginal muscles, desperately trying to draw his sperm deeper and deeper into her. After they had come apart, she knew he had fertilised her, and the great act of creation had begun.

Her knowledge of her fertilisation was initially confirmed by her failure to menstruate, and thereafter by a medical examination. Amanda was elated and went about her work singing. She had never felt happier or healthier.

Allan realised the difficulty of their social situation and decided they would move away from the district. He sold the house and they went to live in another town. Thereafter he and Amanda lived as husband and wife, and if some people muttered, "Dirty old man, married to a young girl like that," neither he or Amanda cared, knowing that most of these comments arose from jealousy at their love.

A son was born to them whom they named Miles.

Heights and Depths.

As the years passed, Miles grew towards maturity within a happy, loving environment. Amanda and Allan never ceased to be faithful lovers, devoted to each other as only those who know the profoundest sexual union can exhibit. Those who love in that way have love and to spare, and so Miles was taken up into their lives.

As far as Miles knew, Allan was his father and husband to his mother. Of Allan and Amanda's father-daughter relationship, nothing was ever revealed. He lived the life of a perfectly normal child, and knew he was wanted and cherished, and he returned the parental love.

So their lives went along happily, even joyfully, with only the minor bumps and knocks life can occasionally hand out. That is, until another tragedy descended upon them.

Now in his mid fifties, Allan had been complaining about occasional pains in his chest. Amanda had urged him to see a doctor, but following the ways of most men, he did nothing. One day he collapsed at work, and before help could arrive, he was dead.

For the second time in her life, Amanda was flung into the abyss of despair. Again, she went into herself, folding her anguish and suffering within, locking it away as both she and Allan had done so many years ago. One who had been father, lover, companion and sustainer had gone, and despite the presence of Miles in her life, she felt miserably alone.

With all emotions, all feelings battened down; she began again the dark and dreary journey through the days and more profoundly, the nights.

Miles at seventeen was bewildered. He had loved his father dearly, but after sessions of weeping, he recovered. Now, unable to break through the wall of his mother's agony, he supported her as best he knew how.

Perhaps his mother's parlous state forced him to recover. He was in his final year at school, and on top of his studies, he now had to find the strength to be his mother's supporter. As his father had been plied with female offers in the first year after his wife's death, so Amanda, still only thirty seven years of age, and still an attractive women, got her share of male visitors. Miles fended them off, and being a big lad, the visitors were quick to take a hint.

During the course of the year, although Amanda stayed long in her castle of misery, Miles, because of the care he gave her, drew even closer to her than before. Slowly she emerged from the winter of distress hibernation, peeping out at first to see if the world had any more hurts about to attack her. She grew in confidence, and once more took on the responsibilities of home and motherhood.

The bond with Miles, always very strong from the moment of his conception, now grew even more powerful. Neither of them imposed this relationship on the other, it grew almost unasked like a wild flower springing up in a cultivated garden when Spring is near.

Indeed, it was not yet Spring for Amanda, but late winter with the promise of Spring nearby. Without Allan, she found herself spending more time with Miles, even if this was only to sit in the same room with him in the evening as he pursued his studies.

The love she had shared with Allan and Miles was now focused on Miles alone. She was not cloying. She made no demands, but it gradually came upon her that her feelings for Miles were beginning to extend beyond that of mother and son. At night, in her lonely bed, she had once tried to fanatasise Allan's presence. Now I was Miles her thoughts went to as she masturbated to relieve her sexual tensions.

Miles too, found himself drawn to his mother in ways beyond the filial relationship of a son to his mother. He began to see her not only as a woman, but also as "The Woman." At night as his sperm shot out during masturbation, he whispered to himself, "Mother, oh mother."

Neither Amanda nor Miles were engaged in sexual activity with anyone else, their sole focus in this respect now centered on each other. They did not speak of these feelings to each other, but Amanda could see the effect she had on Miles by his frequent erections in her presence. Miles had the male misfortune of not being able to see what was happening to Amanda. She understood the strain the situation was putting upon them and knew there could only be one of two outcomes. They must part company, or must enter into a sexual relationship.

Amanda was long past troubling about incest. She had lived many happy years within what the law would call an incestuous relationship. The problem was how did Miles feel about this? Well, she would have to find out. She decided that she would make it as easy as possible for Miles to come to her, if that is what he wished.

She dressed to tempt him, wearing bikinis or even just bra and panties when the weather permitted. She tried to let him get glimpses of her breasts, and sat on the couch with her legs drawn up so that her vagina was clearly marked against her pants or bikini bottoms.

She could see the torture these moves inflicted on Miles, and at times hated herself for behaving like this, but he must freely come to her, not her to him.

The day came when finally it was too much for Miles. Amanda was working in the kitchen wearing the briefest of bikinis. Miles came up behind her, put his arms round her and cupped her breast. She turned to him and pressed her lower abdomen against him, rotating her hips. There, standing against the kitchen sink, he entered her for the first time. "Oh, mother, mother," he groaned.

That night he came to her bed.

Epilogue.

As you have seen, the pattern has been; husband-wife, father-daughter, and now mother-son. All these relationships had been encompassed by love and fidelity until death parted them.

And now one little piece of history repeats itself. One night Amanda and Miles came to the point she had arrived at with Allan so long ago. She was wide open to Miles; completely receptive, her feelings of love and desire for him had nearly driven her mad as he licked her clitoris. She cried out once again as he began his orgasm, "For God sake, make me pregnant, my love."

Amanda griped him with her vagina and would not let him go until every last drop of his sperm had entered her. To her cry for pregnancy he had responded, "Oh, yes, yes."

She did indeed become pregnant.

She gave birth to a girl whom they named "Amanda."

In the course of nature, Amanda knew she would probably die long before Miles. As she looked at her lovely daughter, she often thought, "I wonder if...?"