Storm Island

Of course, when I was about five or six I was often telling her she was the prettiest mummy in the world, and I was going marry her, but that's the sort of thing lots of kids say. I was no longer a kid, but an adult…My God, that's what she had talked about the previous evening – children growing up and the changing relationships with parents.

I began to picture mother, trying to work out whether I found her attractive or not. The answer came very quickly. What I had seen of her body through the nightdress, and the glimpse of her upper body in bed, convinced me that any red blooded male would desire her. After all, if her own son could become worked up over her…!

Her face? Yes, short dark hair and curiously elongated brown eyes with almost an oriental appearance. A slender nose, a little long according to media fashion, but beautifully moulded to make her look like the traditional idea of an aristocrat. And her mouth, yes, my experience of a few minutes before told the story. Soft full lips over excellent teeth.

Yes, I found her attractive…very attractive…

I jolted out of my mental contemplation of mother with the realisation I was viewing her as any other man would, as a desirable woman. I knew I had to stop this. I had never before had any conscious incestuous feelings about mother, so it must stop right now.

"Easier said than done," I thought. I still had a throbbing erection as the result of what I had seen and felt when she kissed me. I had to get rid of that and control the erotic feelings.

I masturbated and as I came, it was mother's image that I fantasised. It was into her vagina that I wanted to pump my sperm. "So much for controlling erotic feelings", I thought.

Before I could quell my libido sufficiently to get to sleep, I had to masturbate twice more.

When I awoke, I had my usual morning erection. I had to relieve myself of that, then I got up resolved that there would be no more lusting for mother. I would be a loving, dutiful son, and nothing else.

I was up before mother so I set out the breakfast and made the tea. By then mother was up and dressed, and seemingly her normal business like self.

"Would you care to come with me today, Philip?" she asked.

I noted the change back to calling me "Philip".

"Where are you going?"

"Back to Gull Point."

I remembered a ledge of rock that would provide a good place to fish from, so I said I would go with her.

This decision had a couple of underlying reasons. One was because after her late arrival back at the house yesterday, and my thought that she might have had an accident, it decided it was safer if I was with her.

The second reason was one I managed to keep deep buried, even to myself. I wanted to be near her.

Thermos flask filled, sandwiches made, rucksack loaded and hefted – by me this time – I got my fishing tackle and we set off.

Cutting across the island instead of following the coast, it took us about half and hour to reach Gull Point.

The point was a rocky ledge that thrust out into the sea from the cliffs. From the top of the cliffs, mother pointed out the rock were she had seen the seals. There was still one there, basking languidly.

We picked our way down what may or may not have been a path to the base of the cliffs. It was the base that was mother's interest, so I left her there to go to the ledge I intended to fish from.

It was a beautiful day again, and "she" hadn't "blown up" as Harper had predicted. This side of the island was open to the Southern Ocean, but instead of the crashing rollers, the sea was heaving in a long swell and flopping against the cliffs to rebound and collide with the next incoming wave.

I optimistically threw in my line and sat down to wait for a bite. Behind me I could hear an occasional chink chink of mother's geological hammer.

I felt at peace, and thoroughly virtuous because I hadn't developed any salacious feelings for mother…so far.

The morning wound away slowly with mother occasionally calling on me to hold this or lift that. The fishing was uninspiring and nothing was caught.

When the sun was overhead mother called out, "Let's eat, shall we?"

We sat with our backs against the base of the cliff, eating our sandwiches and watching the hypnotic motion of the sea. I think we both became drowsy and our conversation slowly faded away until mother asked:

"You don't mind being here with me, do you?"

I took it she meant at Gull Point, so I replied, "Might as well fish here as anywhere else."

"No darling ('Darling' again!), I meant here, On Storm island."

I felt I had little alternative but to tell her I didn't mind, but at the same time, I had visions of what I might be doing had I not been on the island.

I don't think mother is a mind reader, but she is sensitive enough to get the feel of what a person might be thinking. She was on my wavelength now.

"I wondered if you might be missing things…you know, people, friends…girls…that sort of thing."

"I suppose so…a bit…but it's only for three weeks…and anyway," I laughed…"I've got a lovely girl here…"

I should have had my tongue cut out at birth! What a senseless thing to say, especially after my virtuous resolutions.

Mother said nothing for a moment, and then she leaned against me and said, "What a lovely thing to say, darling."

She stayed pressed to my side, but against my bare arm, I could feel the pressure of her breasts. I was getting hard again.

The situation was saved when my rod that I had wedged in a crack in the rocks, started to leap wildly. I got up and ran to retrieve it.

Whatever was on the hook must have been huge and my tackle had no chance of holding it. There was mighty heave on the line and it went slack. When I reeled in the hook had gone.

I put the rod down and went back to mother. She was pouring tea from the thermos flask.

"Must have been a small shark," I said. "Had no chance of holding it with what I've got."

We drank our tea and mother returned to her fossil hunt. I put a spare hook on the line and tried again.

The afternoon seemed to laze by, and I lost interest in fishing, and turned to watch mother working at the cliff base. She moved like a lissome young woman and I noted her shapely long legs. As she bent to look at something, I thought I could see through the cloth of her tight shorts, the moulding of her sex organ.

I found myself wondering what it would be like to penetrate her, and gave myself a mental slap.

I drifted off to sleep.

"A fine fisherman you are. Just as well we're not relying on you to get food."

Mother was standing over me, her rucksack on her shoulder and holding the two cardboard boxes.

"I didn't get anything either," she said, "Come on it's time to go."

I reeled in the line and we set off.

Back at the house, we had the meal to prepare and cook, and mother suggested we have another bottle of wine.

The weather had cooled down again so I lit the fire, but at mother's suggestion, I lit a couple of candles instead of the kerosene lamps.

We had what might be called "A romantic candlelit dinner."

Both a little cheerful from the wine, we cleared up, and mother suggested we open another bottle.

I pointed out that at this rate we would run out of wine in a few days, but mother countered by saying we could telephone Harper to bring more bottles when he came across on the boat next Saturday to re-supply us.

Mother said she would go and change her clothes, so I poured the wine and I found some rather romantic Delius music on the radio.

I was slumped back in my armchair lulled by the music. I heard mother come into the room, but paid no attention, until she sat at my feet and leaned against me. Then I did take notice. She had on her transparent nightdress.

She was not silhouetted this time, but the top of the dress hung low over her breasts, and what part of her breasts it did cover left little to the imagination.

She started to stroke my thigh saying, "Isn't this lovely, darling, firelight, candlelight and music?"

She sipped her wine and I gulped mine. The bottle was beside the chair so I poured myself another glass.

"Careful darling, you'll get sloshed," she chuckled.

Given the state I was getting in over her nightdress, her proximity and the slowly stroking hand, I felt getting "sloshed" might be a good idea.

She was inflaming me and there was nothing I could do short of getting up and bidding her goodnight.

I was almost on the point of taking that escape route when she said, "Isn't it wonderful that we can be here, two adults instead of mother and child?"

"Er…yes," I mumbled, my throat feeling too constricted to allow me proper speech.

"As I said the other night, darling, we have the opportunity to explore… to enjoy each other. I think it's a priceless opportunity, don't you?"

"Yagh," I choked out.

"I think we should take full advantage of our situation. After all, it may never come again. That's a sad thought, isn't it?"

"Sperso."

She rose and began to move round the room, which gave partial relief to my tattered and lecherous feelings.

"Darling, could you help me a moment?"

I looked up and she was sitting on the edge of the table doing something to the top of her nightdress.

I rose and went towards her. "What is it?"

"Look darling, there's a piece of ribbon that goes round the top of my dress, but its come undone and slipped back under the cloth, could you see if you can get it out?"

My hands were trembling and she must have felt it. I made an attempt to find the end of the ribbon, my hands brushing over her breasts. I had no hope of retrieving it and I said, "We need more light. Shall I light the kerosene lamp"

It doesn't matter darling, it can wait until the morning, but thank you for trying."

She drew me closer to her and kissed me. There was no mistaking it this time. Her warm, moist lips writhed over mine, and then her tongue was in my mouth, thrusting and searching.

It was beyond my human strength to resist. I reached for her breasts, warm and yielding beneath the thin fabric. I felt her unloosen my belt, and my trousers dropped to my feet. My underpants followed them.

My penis was erect and throbbing with every heartbeat and I could feel the pre-cum, wet on the crown.

No word was said as mother raised her legs to place her feet on the top of the table. Her sex organ was wide open to me, and she put her long fingers down to spread the lips of her vulva as if to invite me in. Her other hand guided me to her opening, and I slid into paradise.

She was drenched with her lubricant and her tunnel was warm and soft, until she suddenly gripped me with her vaginal muscle.

For the first time since our kissing, she spoke and it was in a husky whisper.

"Darling, oh darling, I'm so glad. I've wanted you for so long. I thought we never would…you wouldn't…oh darling, come into me...I want to feel your sperm in me…"

She began to make little sobbing noises as standing in front of her I began to move back and forth inside her. Suddenly she seemed to give a violent jerk and clung tightly to me.

"Darling…oh yes…darling yes…"

She was coming and so was I. I felt the first jerk of the semen up my shaft, and then I was spurting into her, crying out that I loved her as her sobs increased in intensity and rose to an abandoned outcry of orgasmic torment and exultation.

As we began to calm down, I stayed inside her, and she began kissing and licking my face while I fondled her breasts.

"That was so beautiful mother," I moaned.

"I only wanted it with you," she said as she continued sobbing, the tears running down her cheeks.

We stayed holding each other for a long time, until finally I withdrew from her.

That ugly word, "Incest," reared its head. The act seemingly universally condemned and maligned. Had I defiled my own mother?

In the midst of these thoughts, I heard her speaking.

"Darling, we've broken down the barriers, let's shower and go to bed. I think we need to talk, and do other things."

She coaxed me to shower with her, and in the process, she washed my sex organ, touching it as if it were something precious to her. As I washed her vagina, I felt the sensation in reverse. I touched it as if it were a sacred place. "Through here, life begins," I thought.

I had never felt this with other women I had coupled with. Always they had been a convenient and pleasant way to unload sperm. With mother I began to sense the creative force contained within a woman's body, and with that understanding, the male desire to set that creative process in motion.

I was experiencing the wonder and beauty of woman, and with it, God help me, the desire to impregnate this particular woman – the woman who had given me birth.

However I might struggle to deny it, I wanted, not "a" woman, but this particular woman, as I had never wanted a woman before. "The two shall become one," it says in the bible, but that was speaking of husband and wife. Yet condemn myself as I might, my desire to become one with this woman, my mother, was not to be denied.

We retired to her bedroom and she sat on the edge of the bed, just as she had sat on the table, her legs up, spread wide.

Having no pubic hair, I could see the light brown lips of her vulva, glistening with her female emission, the sign of readiness for penetration. As before her hand reached down and her fingers opened the outer lips, and this time I saw clearly the soft, pink, inner petals like little rosebuds.

We seemed to know instinctively what the other desired. I knelt before her and kissed her vagina, letting my tongue pressing in through her entrance, probing into the mysterious world beyond. I inhaled that exciting aroma that is women and tasted her fluid.

I lifted the little hood over her clitoris, that centre of female excitation, first touching it with my tongue, then gently circling the sweet little nub with my finger.

I felt her approaching orgasm as she began to tremble, giving out little cries, "Oh-ah-oh-ah", these rising to a screaming crescendo as her whole body shook violently. There was one final shriek, and then diminishing cries of, "Ooo – ah –oo – ah", these fading away as she became tranquil.

I moved her over to the centre of the bed and parted her legs, ready for my penetration, then in frightening reprise of my own earlier thoughts, she said, "Fertilise me, darling, make me pregnant."

I slipped into her, feeling the warm, moist paradisiacal world of her enigmatic womanhood. Now the desire for union with her, the longing for the oneness of total melding with her possessed me. Nothing in all my previous experiences had prepared me for this moment.

At first mother lay open and yielding in a posture of surrender as I thrust into her, but unexpectedly, considering she had climaxed only a few minutes before, she began her build up to orgasm again.

The cries that began softly and rose to a climax, her legs winding round me, desperately trying to drag me into her, the growing urgency of my own thrust, all combined to make our union a glorious battle.

It was not a battle in which one would win and another lose, but one in which both might win through the sweet fertilising of the ovum by one tiny spermatozoon.

Our struggle to create over, we lay side by side for a while, then mother leaned over me, stroking my body as if contemplating me.

"I made this marvelous body," she said softly. "It went away from me for a while, but now I have it back again."

Still touching me, she went on, "Darling, we have stepped over boundary. There is no going back."

"Mother, we've committed incest," I said.

"Yes, darling, but you see, I had to know."

"To know?"

"Mmm. To know you in this way."

"I don't understand."

She paused for a while, then as if making up her mind launched into an attempt to explain her thoughts and feelings, she said:

"You know I was pregnant with you when I got married?"

"Yes."

"Your father took me when I was still a student. In the back of his car, to be precise. In those days he wasn't like he is now, focused on his bloody money and investments. I felt that he really loved me, and I still think he did, only later he found something he loved more."

"You were a beautiful child, and I wanted more children, but he denied me that. I might have coped with that, but then he began to deny me the sexual gratification I needed. I even demeaned myself by begging him to…to fuck me. I'm a passionate woman; I need that sort of love. I would cry myself to sleep at night in sheer frustration."

"As you know, your father and I have slept in separate rooms for years now. It was not my idea, but his. One night, after a desperate attempt on my part to arouse him, he said, "If you're going to go on like this, I shall sleep apart from you."

"That was enough. I had some pride left, so a screamed at him to go and sleep elsewhere. He did just that."

"He was obsessed with his world of business and money, so I took on an obsession of my own."

"I had a good degree in geology, so I flung myself into that, working to gain my doctorate, then building up a reputation for my work."

"You know, darling, one can sublimated sexual drive through work, but that drive does not go away, it is still there with its demands for gratification. That is the other side of the matter, which involves you, I'm afraid."

"You see, when you got to about fifteen, and I could see you developing into sexual maturity, I found myself wanting you. I told myself these feelings were wrong, and had to be destroyed. It was then that I started to get frenetic about my work. I flung myself into it, taking on more and more. That's why we lost touch with each other."

"In those years it was almost like three strangers in one house. Your father with his business affairs, me with my conferences, seminars and field trips, and you with your studies, all of us so busy we didn't have to look at the problems that divided us."

"I tried to make sure you never knew my feelings for you. You were going out with girls, and I guessed what you did, and I was so bitterly jealous. Those young women getting what I wanted so badly."

"I could have had other men. I'm not completely undesirable as a woman. Male colleagues at work, even your father's business acquaintances, have tried to persuade me to have sex with them. But, God forgive me, I only wanted one man."

"That's how it was when I decided on this trip. I really did intend to come on my own, but for whatever reason, your father started to insist on you coming with me. Come to think of, it is strange. It has never bothered him before."

"Whatever his reason, he did start to make a fuss about my being alone on the island. Had I wanted to I could have shut him up, but I saw an opportunity. If I had you alone with me, I could find out. I had to know you see. I had to know if you would reciprocate my feelings…my desires, or whether you would be revolted and turn away from me."

"I knew the dangers. I knew that whatever your response, things would never be the same between us again. There is one more thing I must tell you. I know I've already revealed it, but now, while we are calm, I want to tell you."

"I love you dearly…passionately. When you were a child I loved you as a mother, now I love you as a woman loves a man, and beyond sex for the sake of sex, I wanted you to impregnate me. Any reasonably desirable woman can get a man to impregnate her, but I wanted it to be an act of love, not just lust."

She stopped speaking, and although I felt I should say something, I did not know what. Mother came to my rescue with a question.

"Tell me, darling, do you regret what we have done?"

"Mother, I can't regret what we've done, it was too exquisite for regret, but I do fear the consequences. What if you are pregnant…what about father?…he'd have to know if you are, and it won't take much for him to work out who made you pregnant."