STORM ISLAND free porn video

"Damn it, Philip, don't be so bloody selfish. You've got three months vacation from university, surely you can spare three weeks? You know very well I can't go, I have business to attend to. Your mother can't go down there on her own."

It was strange how my father always had "business to attend to" when mother went of on her trips.

My mother is Dr.Anna Bridges, a geologist of considerable repute, working for the State Geological Centre. Even on her annual leave she could not stop working, but followed her own lines of interest.

The present point at issue with my father was my mother's upcoming three weeks stay on Storm Island. He wanted me to accompany her because he couldn't, or more likely, wouldn't.

To explain why mother should not be on the island alone require some description of the island's location.

Off the southern edge of the continental mainland is a large island that constitutes one of our seven States. Off the southern coast of that island is a smaller island reached by ferry. Then again off the southern tip of that island, and about two kilometres distant from it, is another tiny island, that is Storm Island.

Storm Island can be walked around in about two hours. It's coastline is mainly cliffs, with occasional coves. Most of the time huge seas come crashing in from the Southern Ocean, creating a constant roar audible wherever you are on the island.

In earlier colonial days, some venturesome colonist had tried to farm on the island with little success, as witness the fact that nobody tries to farm there now, but the old house that the would-be farmer had built, still stands there.

The present owner of the house lives on the coast of the island opposite Storm Island, and having modernised the house to come extent, he rents it out to people who like to spend their holidays in isolation. The only way to get across to the island is by the small boat he owns.

The crossing is often hazardous, as the strait separating Storm Island from the other island is often wild. Once on the island, the only communication is a telephone that connects to a telephone in the owner's house. It is not connected to the main telephone network.

Supplies for those stopping on Storm Island have to be ferried across the strait in the small boat. As the owner is only willing to do this once a week, it is necessary to take with you enough to last for that period, with something added for emergencies like it being too rough for the boat to get across.

The attraction for my mother is the unusual geological formations and fossils. It seems that these indicate that Storm Island had never been part of the nearby land, and the fossils were those of species unknown outside Storm Island.

The attraction for me was nil. As a languages student, geology held no great interest for me, and the only other occupation for me on Storm Island was fishing and a bit of photography. There were no girls and therefore no chances of copulating, and at twenty-one, that is a serious deprivation.

That is how the matter stood, and despite my mother's reassurance that she would be "All right on her own," I could see the need for someone to be with her. My father is a "Money Man" or what some people call, "Something in the city," and as far as I was concerned, he held a perfect trump card, my allowance.

For as long as I was a "needy student," I needed his money. True I could have gone and washed dishes for some chain fast food outlet, but having seen how some of my fellow students struggled when they had to do that sort of work, I would rather not.

So, I was stuck with the task of chaperoning mother on Storm Island.

The first leg was to fly to the State Capital of the main island. From there, we drove in a hire car to the ferry, which carried cars. That took us across to the next island. We drove down its length to finally arrive at the promontory where the owner of the Storm Island house lived.

The owner, Mr.Harper, engaged in much head shaking and statements like, "I dunno, looks like she's gonna blow up. Better wait 'til termorrer, love."

Mother got stern, and when mother gets stern, thing are inclined to happen.

Mr.Harper took us across to Storm Island in something close to a flat calm.

We off loaded our supplies, and as an excuse not to help us carry them the three hundred metres to the house, Harper said, "Better get back love, before she blows up."

Mother had made sure we had plenty of supplies, and it took us some time to cart them to the house. By the time we had finished, we could see the dot of Harper's boat approaching the far shore. It was still a flat calm, and remained so for some time.

I had been to the house once before some years ago. I think I was about fifteen or sixteen then. From my memory of it, it didn't seem to have changed much.

There was one fairly large open area that might be called a combination dining and living room. For heating, which was often necessary so far south, there was an open wood fire. Trees were not plentiful on the island, and suitable fallen timber even less so. To try to supplement this, driftwood was needed. Fortunately, there was a reasonable stock of this outside the back door.

Off this living area, three doors led to a couple of bedrooms and the kitchen.

The kitchen had an old solid fuel cooking range and a more up to date gas stove fed from a gas bottle located outside the house but just behind the stove. The gas bottle also fed an ancient gas refrigerator and hot water heater.

Another door in the kitchen led into a short passage off which there was the bathroom, toilet and finally a back door to the outside of the house. The bathroom and kitchen were supplied with hot water, again via the gas bottle to a gas water heater.

Lighting in the house was by kerosene lamps and candles. There was a tank of kerosene under a shelter against the outside back wall. We had, however, brought with us two gaslights that attached to gas bottles.

The present toilet was connected to a septic tank, but out the back of the house still stood the old toilet shed, known as the "Dunny" in Australian jargon, that had once contained a tin can. This had to be manually emptied whenever full. This shed now contained the old can, ropes, broken spades and forks and assorted other useless objects.

One of the bedrooms contained a fairly new double bed, the other a creaking single bed. Mother pretended to argue about who should have what bed, but we both knew who would end up with the double bed. I assisted mother to get her things into the bedroom.

By the time we had got ourselves organised, darkness was beginning to close in. To conserve our gas, I lit a couple of kerosene pressure lamps. We had brought fresh food with us, but having had a long day we were not inclined to spend time preparing and cooking, so we opened cans of something or the other.

Shower time followed, and as with the gas, we had to be sparing, because the water was supplied by outside tanks that were replenished only when it rained.

Mother took her shower first, and finishing, entered the living area carrying the candle she had used for light, and wrapped only in a towel, en route to her bedroom. She came to me, kissed me goodnight, but instead of the usually peck on the cheek, she kissed my lips. It was a soft, slightly moist and warm kiss.

"That was nice," I remarked.

She smiled. "Like it, did you?"

"Yes, I did."

"Then you're a naughty boy."

She gave a little giggle and went into her bedroom shutting the door.

I was somewhat surprised. My usually serious, academic mother, playing the skittish kitten? "Ah well!"

I lit a candle for myself, took my shower and cursed as I tried to shave by candlelight.

I clambered into my creaking bed, and remembering all the girls I might have had, and still tingling a little from mother's kiss, I masturbated.

Have you ever tried masturbating in a creaking bed? No matter how careful you try to be, the damn thing squawks like a duck in pain. What is more, when you get to the main event and your sperm is shooting out like a volcano erupting, you don't care about the noise.

I hoped and prayed that mother was asleep. Not that masturbation was a forbidden activity as far as she was concerned. It had been mother who in giving me some sex instruction when I was about f******n, had pointed out that both men and women sometimes had to relieve their sexual tension in this way. Never the less, I still felt it as a bit self-consciousness being heard doing it.

Having duly relieved myself, I dropped off into a sleep induced by a long day and sea air.

I woke very late the next morning and found mother had been up for some time. She had breakfasted and was about to set off on her first rock hunting.

She was dressed in tight shorts and a T-shirt, and was in the process of putting a thermos flask and sandwiches into her rucksack. The geologist hammer dangled from the outside on a strap.

"I didn't know whether you wanted to come with me or not, darling," she said, "but I've prepared you some sandwiches."

Mother led a busy life, and when I was about fifteen she got even busier as her reputation as one of the leading geologists grew. In some ways, we had lost touch with each other. I think we both knew, and regretted this.

There were times when I wished I could be alone with her, perhaps go to the theatre or take a car drive, but she was always either rushing off somewhere, or my father was around bleating his usual themes of investments and money.

In mid-thought I pulled myself up. Here was I, telling myself I would like time with mother, and when the opportunity came, I complained about it. What contrary creatures we humans are.

Another thing was, she almost invariably called me Philip, so it was a bit of a surprise when she referred to me as "darling." She did not even call my father darling, but that was not especially unexpected, as she seemed to have even less contact with him than she did with me.

As if she had read my thoughts, when I indicated to her that I would probably go fishing, she said with a touch of disappointment in her voice, "All right, darling, but I would like us to use this time together to get to know each other again. I'm going down to Gull Point. I expect to be back about mid-afternoon."

She hefted her rucksack, picked up a couple of cardboard boxes, and left.

I ate breakfast and taking my fishing tackle I headed for a small cove I remembered from my last visit to the island.

I spent the morning fishing from a ledge of rock at one side of the cove, and actually caught a couple of eatable fish. The hunter in me satisfied for the moment, I propped my back against a rock and ate the sandwiches mother had prepared.

I hold a certain view about preparing food for people. For example, mother had made these sandwiches for me, not because I had asked her to, or because she was paid to do it. She had made them because she thought I needed them. To me, that is a little act of love.

That thought led on to my two fish. Suppose I returned that act of love by preparing and cooking them, so when mother got back to the house I would have a meal ready for her? A return act of love? Well, I hoped my preparation and cooking would prove a worthy act of love.

I gathered my tackle and fish, and headed back to the house. Meditating on mother as I walked and scrambled over rocks, I felt a twinge of regret that I had not accompanied her that morning. Then thinking I wouldn't have caught the fish and would not, therefore, be able to prepare them I let the regret go.

Back in the house I filleted and washed the fish. I prepared vegetables and brought out one of the dozen bottles of red wine we had brought with us.

By the time I had done this it was still too early to start cooking, and anyway I thought I had better wait for mother to arrive before starting cooking. I did a bit of cleaning and tidying up, and read for a while.

Mother had said she would be back by mid afternoon. That I took to be about three o'clock. It got to four and started to worry. Four fifteen and still she had not arrived and my anxiety level had risen a few more degrees.

I knew how rough and dangerous it was around the island, and I began to have visions of mother with a broken leg, or worse.

By four-thirty, I could stand it no longer. I set off in the direction of where I remembered Gull Point to be. In my anxiety, I almost ran, and when about half way there I saw mother approaching, apparently uns**thed, I was ready to drop with relief.

The poor woman was still twenty metres away when I started.

"Where the hell have you been I yelled. I've been worried out of my mind. You said you'd be back mid-afternoon. I've got a meal prepared and…and…"

Mother laughed. "Darling, you're sounding like an anxious parent or a husband."

I saw the funny side of the situation and laughed with her.

"I spotted some seals basking on a rock of Gull Point just when I was going to leave, so I watched them for a while, that's all."

"You're supposed to be a geologist, not zoologist I protested."

"I know, darling, but I'm allowed to enjoy other things as well as geology. After all, you enjoy things that are not linguistic don't you?"

She knew very well some of the things I enjoyed, so I thought I'd better not respond.

We were walking towards the house, so I told her about my fish and meal preparations.

"Lovely, darling, she said. Just what a girl needs after a hard days rock scrambling."

I had noted the number of "darlings" she was using, and the continuing excitable mood she seemed to be in. I wondered what was happening to her.

I cooked the meal, but I knew mother was keeping an eye on my efforts. It turned out a reasonable success, and the wine relaxed us nicely.

There was no television in the house as there was no electricity, so we spent the evening with the battery operated radio we had brought with us, listening to music.

I lit the two kerosene lamps and placed one beside mother and one by my chair. The evening had turned cool, so I got fuel in and lit the fire.

Mother had brought back a couple of fossil specimens she had found, and spent part of the evening inspecting them through a magnifying glass. I continued with my reading.

Around nine o'clock mother put aside her specimens and lay back in her armchair.

"Darling, let's turn off the lamps and just have the firelight. We can talk."

I turned the lamps off and sat back watching the firelight flickering on the walls and ceiling. I found it almost hypnotic, and I think I was on the point of dozing off when mother spoke.

"This is lovely, darling. It makes such a change not to be rushing off here and there. For a long time, I've thought how we seem to have grown apart. I know it happens with many c***dren and parents, but I don't think it has to be."

"No, I suppose it doesn't. Depends on circumstances a lot. I mean, with you so busy and my studies…"

"Yes, darling, but there are other things as well. I mean, some parents can't accept that their c***dren have grown up, that they have become adults with adult thoughts and feelings. Those parents who can accept their c***dren's maturity can begin to relate to them in a new way, as adult to adult."

"Yes," I pondered aloud. "But what about the generation gap? The younger generation often have different tastes and values, don't you think?"

"That's true, darling but that can be part of the…"

She paused for a moment as if trying to find the right word or phrase to express what she wanted to say.

"It can be part of the excitement of discovering one another. Like you and I now. We have time to discover…to…to explore each other."

"Put like that you do make it sound exhilarating," I said with a grin. "We could be in for a stimulating time."

"I hope so, darling, I really do hope so." She said this so quietly it was only just audible and I wondered if I was meant to hear it.

"Perhaps we should go to bed now," I said. "Would you like to take your shower first?"

"Yes, of course," she said. She gave a quiet laugh and went on, "Unless we shower together and save water."

I laughed in my turn and said, "I don't think that will be necessary, but I'll keep my eye on the water level in the tank. If it gets too low we might just have to get under together."

She gave another laugh and went into the bedroom.

I lit a candle for her and when she came out, in the flickering light of the fire, she seemed to be dressed in some filmy garment.

"I lit the candle for you," I said.

"Thanks, darling."

She passed between where I was sitting and the fire to get the candle, and for an instant, through the translucent material, I saw her body outlined. She seemed to pause between me and the fire, looking at me, then moved on.

When she had left the room, I sat pondering on the vision that had just been before me. I had never seen my mother naked. Sometimes she had appeared in a bikini at the beach, and on odd occasions, I had passed her going to or from the bathroom in her panties and bra. None of that had particularly focused my attention. The picture of her between the fire and me had focused me.

What I had seen were the firm breasts of a young woman and hips that were rounded, swelling out in tantalising promise of what was between them and the top of firm round thighs.

I was finding it difficult to breathe, and I was shaking and my penis began to rise.

I shook myself. "My God, what are you thinking, Philip? Your own mother and you're getting sexual feelings about her?"

Finishing her shower mother came into where I was sitting, and as on the previous night she was wrapped in a towel. It barely covered her breasts and was close to revealing her sex organ.

She stood near me. She had washed her hair and was still drying it with another towel. As she raised her arms to continue drying her breasts lifted and the bottom of the towel rose accordingly, and for a moment I saw her neatly cleft vulva, seemingly devoid of pubic hair.

Still drying her hair she moved towards the bedroom, then turned and said, "Darling, I've left my nightdress in bathroom, when you've finished your shower, bring it in to me, would you?"

I tried a cold shower to see if I could get my erection down. It didn't work, so I had to masturbate and this did help.

When I finished drying myself I wrapped a towel round my middle and obeyed orders, picking up the nightdress and took it to mother.

As far as the clothe was concerned and the size of the garment, it was close to not existing. No wonder I had seen through it so clearly.

The bedroom door was ajar, so I tapped on it and walked in.

Mother was sitting up in bed reading, her naked upper body clearly visible. She looked up as I came in, then after a moment's hesitation she slowly drew up a sheet to cover her breasts.

What I saw had me rising again.

"Thank you, darling," she said. "Just put it on the bed and come and kiss me goodnight."

I bent over her to kiss her on the cheek, but she cupped hands on either side of my face and pressed her lips to mine. They were soft and moist, and I could have sworn I felt her tongue flick over my lips.

"Goodnight, darling," she said, "I hope you sleep well."

I managed to wheeze out, "Goodnight, mother."

I fled from the room.

What was happening to me? What was happening to mother? I had never seen her like this before, but then, I had never experienced myself in relation to her like this before.

How could a normally grave doctor of science turn into a sexually exciting woman, especially as the excited person was her own son?

I tried to see mother objectively, which was not easy since sexual arousal tends to diminish objectivity. I had never seen my mother as either attractive or unattractive as a woman, she had always been just mother.


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 k**s say. I was no longer a k**, but an adult…My God, that's what she had talked about the previous evening – c***dren 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 i****tuous 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 c***d?"

"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, "i****t," 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 i****t," 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 c***d, and I wanted more c***dren, 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 c***d 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."


"No, it won't, and for myself I don't care. I've stayed with him for your sake. I wanted to be sure you'd reached an age where you were mature enough to deal with your own life. You've another year to go before you graduate. If it's a matter of money, I earn a big enough salary to keep a dozen people."

"But it's i****t, mother," I protested again.

"My love, neither of us are c***dren. It's not as if I've sexually abused an infant. We are two grown up people who know what they want, and have taken it. There is one thing though. If I am pregnant, I shall not hold you responsible. I wanted a c***d before it was too late for me to have one, and I wanted it through your impregnation. If I have that, then it will be sufficient. If you want no further part in it, I shall understand."

"But I can't…I mean…I do want a part in it…with you…Mother, after what we've done, what I've experienced I…I want you."

This had stuttered out of me in a rush, but it was truly felt. For me, this was "The Woman," nothing, no one else would do."

"Are you sure, darling. I've had years to consider what I wanted – you – you've had a few hours."

"There have been others, but none like you. I want you."

"Then, my love, I think we'd better drop the "Mother" title, don't you? What about Anna? After all, if we are going to be lovers, I think it's more appropriate."

So "Anna" it was, my lovely, beloved Anna.

Her hand had been gently stroking my penis towards the end of our talk, and it had risen to its full power. Now she began to move my foreskin over the head in quick little jerks and I felt myself beginning to come again.

Anna must have felt it too because she took my penis into her mouth and began to lick and suck along my shaft.

I came in a flood of semen, pumping into her mouth as she tried to swallow my copious discharge. It was too much for her, and it began to dribble from the corners of her mouth. When I finished, she came over me and started kissing me, letting sperm drip into my mouth.

"Taste yourself, you b**st," she said with a triumphant note in her voice.

I tasted, then slept.

Anna had the habit of exercising when she first got up in the mornings, bending and stretching, things like that.

When I woke, she was standing beside the bed naked, and just about to start her exercises. I watched idly as she carried out her movements, but became very alert when at one stage she bent over to touch her toes.

Her back was towards me, so I got a full view of her vagina. An erection came in a hurry, and I jumped out of bed and as she bent, I pressed myself against her.

In a muffled voice she called out, "Yes, take me like this, darling."

I probed for and found her opening, then entered. I held her hips to give her some support and began rapid thrusts. In that position, the feeling was firmer and tighter, and soon Anna was giving little squeals. I began to fire into her, and as her climax came, instead of her usual screams, she gave off little sounds like, "Ah-ah-ah-ah," then a final long drawn out "Ooooo".

The position was too uncomfortable for me to stay long in her once we had finished, so I withdrew and fell back on the bed. She dropped beside me, laughing and saying, "Well, that's different way of exercising, my love. Perhaps we should do it that way every morning."

I thought I would be quite happy about that.

Anna had indicated that she was a very passionate woman. I was now about to discover how passionate. If, as she said, she had not engaged in sex for some years, she was bent on making up for it now.

She did not go fossil hunting that day and I did not go fishing. We spent a great deal of time in bed carrying out some interesting explorations, getting out of bed only when sustenance was required, and even then, she insisted I take her on the kitchen table as I had the first time.

My testicles seemed to have a greater recovery rate than I had once thought possible, but in the end, Anna outran them. My ejaculations into her became a wretched dribble.

"You need time to recover your sperm count, darling, she chortled, so if you don't mind using your fingers or tongue, I do feel like another orgasm. And darling, if you use your fingers you could suck my nipples at the same time.

By early evening, my sperm count had recovered a little, but the final event on demand was anal sex.

"I've never had that, darling. Please try it," was Anna's plea.

I had experienced it once with a girl, but it had not been a first for her, so she had already been opened. Tackling this first time for Anna seemed a bit daunting, especially as there was no lubricant available.

Remembering what the girl had done, I took some of Anna's natural lubricant that she seemed to have an ever-flowing supply of, and wiped it over and into her anus. I then pushed the crown of my penis that was covered in pre-cum against the pink little orifice.

I don't claim to have a huge penis, but I am relatively well endowed, and I wondered how it was going to enter such a small opening. I hesitated saying, "Anna, I think it's going to hurt you too much."

"Just try, darling, I'll tell you to stop if it's too much for me."

Anna was lying over the edge of the bed with pillows under her stomach to give her greater elevation, her feet on the floor. I began to put a steady pressure against her anus, but could not penetrate.

"I can't get in," I told her.

"It's not hurting, darling, push really hard."

I took hold of her hips and dragged on them as I thrust into her. I felt myself go in, and Anna convulsed and screamed.

"No darling, no, it's too much…too painful." Please stop.

I stopped and pulled out. There was blood on my penis and around her anus.

"Oh God, I've hurt you, Anna, you're bleeding."

"It's all right," she moaned, "I don't think there's any great damage."

I carried her to the bathroom and carefully washed her anus, inspecting it for damage. The little pink opening looked raw, but the bleeding must have been coming from deeper inside.

There was no more sex that night.

On Thursday, Anna telephoned across to Harper giving our order for supplies to be brought across in the boat on Saturday. There seemed to be a lot of wrangling going on and Anna went into her stern mode.

When she put the telephone down she said, "Harper says, 'She'll be blowing by Saturday'." We both laughed.

On Saturday, it was still calm, and Harper brought our supplies across. When we had off-loaded, he made ready for the return trip commenting, "She'll be blowing afore I gets back."

We watched him cross the millpond still strait until he became a dot too small to focus.

Anna had ordered a liberal quantity of food and gas bottles to replace those we used for lighting when empty, and plenty of red wine. Not that we particularly needed the wine, being intoxicated with each other.

"Just in case Harper's prophecy does come true one day, and 'she' does blow," she chuckled, examining one of the bottles.

We had concluded that having had our first burst of abandoned coupling that our craving for each other would diminished a little, Anna would get back to her fossil hunting and I to my fishing.

I was, however, determined that Anna would not be out of my sight. I would go with her to wherever she was going to do her hunting, and either fish or if required, help Anna. If a suitably comfortable spot was handy, this arrangement did allow for a lunchtime coupling, which usually meant me with my back on the bare earth or rock, while Anna sat astride me.

The time of real lovemaking was after our evening meal, when, often to the accompaniment of music from our radio, we licked and sucked, and generally tried to eat each other.

One interesting feature of our sexual relationship was, penetration did not seem to be the immediate objective. We loved to hold and caress each other, and tell each other of our love. We might do this for an hour or more before attempting our final orgasmic climaxes, however these were achieved.

After the experiment with anal sex, it was decided that there would be no further adventuring in the direction. Apart from that, every corner of our bodies seemed to be available for sexual purposes.

One night about the middle of our second week on Storm Island, Harper's prediction finally came true.

We had just finished our evening meal when the first gust of wind struck. It seemed to shake the house, then subsided to be followed by another gust.

Within half an hour, there was a howling gale blowing, and above its noise, we could hear the ocean rollers, now thundering in to hurl themselves against the cliffs.

I have always felt it was that night when it happened. Anna has never been wetter, softer and more yielding. While the storm raged outside another storm raged within. It was the storm of our lust for each other, the primordial drive to perpetuate the species.

From the beginning of our new relationship, we had felt driven to pour out our words of love and desire, but on this night, in our frenzied hunger for each other, we outstripped ourselves in cries of devotion.

Anna murmured constantly, "Darling, fertilise me, make me pregnant…please...make it tonight."

She had orgasm after orgasm, howling with anguished delight, and I seemed to implant my seed into her deeper than ever before.

I wanted to consume her, to have her body and soul. It was an experience not only beyond any other I had had with other women; it was beyond anything I had experienced with Anna.

I cannot claim to have been able to match her constant stream of orgasms, but I ejaculated twice into her vagina, once into her mouth and once between her breasts, in the process splashing her face and hair with my sperm.

It was a strange, lusting yet loving experience. In concert with the storm outside, I raged into Anna that night, and if there had been any doubt before, after that night my course was set. My life was fettered to Anna's more surely than any marriage ceremony could have bound us.

I have heard people say that they have, at the time of copulation, experienced what I have tried to describe, but they conclude, "When I woke up beside her in the morning, it gone."

When I woke the next morning, and saw Anna beside me, I had no such feelings of negation. My thought as I looked at her, and she continued to sleep was "Is it possible that I can have and keep such beauty?"

The storm outside continued to rage the sound of the pounding waves more uproarious than ever. Inside the house, and between Anna and I, there was peace and contentment.

That day Anna had a strange, blissful look. She kept touching me and telling me she loved me and all would be well. When I asked her what she meant by "All will be well," she simply answered, "Wait and see, my love."

With the storm still furious outside, and the rain beating down, we could not go out that day. Oddly, given the fire of our sexual coupling previously, and without tasks to distract us, we only engaged in sexual intercourse a couple of times. We both seemed content just to be together, listening to the radio, eating and dozing.

In a couple of days, the storm blew itself out, so we were able to get to work again, and Anna could take up her fossil seeking. The sea, however, continued to rage against the island with great ocean breakers careering in.

"If this keeps up," Anna said, "Harper won't be able to get across to us. Just as well I ordered plenty of food."

She was right. Saturday was the day Harper was supposed to cross over to take us off the island, but it was obviously out of the question. For as long as the big seas kept up, we were marooned.

I had no objection to being marooned with Anna, and thinking of our return to home and father, I wished the big seas would go on forever. Of course, this might help my sexual hunger for her, but might not be so attractive when the food ran out.

The seas did keep heaving and a telephone call to Harper elicited the obvious.

"Too rough to cross."

"Yes, we know. How long do you think it will last?"

"Might calm by Tuesday, but I reckon she could blow up again."

Monday brought a telephone call from Harper. Mother took the call and afterwards she summarised the conversation.

"Your father wants to know what the hell is going on, and when we will be back. Harper told him the sea was too rough to pick us up, and anyway, 'She might blow up again'. The instructions are, that as soon as we are off the island, we are to telephone to let him know we are on our way."

By Tuesday, she hadn't "blown up again," but somewhere out in the ocean, demonic waves were being formed to be flung at the island.

Anna and I were continuing to enjoy our selves hugely and by Thursday, and our supplies starting to look a bit low, the sea started to calm down.

At that point, as we ate our lunch seated on a rock, Anne said: "Darling, I should have menstruated three days ago. I'm normally very regular. It's far from certain, but you know what it could mean?"

"Your pregnant?"

"Yes."

"Father will have to know."

"Yes. When I'm more certain I'll tell him."

"My God, he'll go raving mad."

"Probably."

"Do you want to keep the baby?"

"Of course I do. Do you think I would have had unprotected sex with you if I wasn't prepared to get pregnant?"

"Do you mean you deliberately set out to get…to get…"

"Yes. Once I knew you were coming with me I set out to seduce you into making me pregnant."

"You mean, all you really wanted from me was to fertilise you?"

"Darling, what we've been doing for the last three weeks should have told you I wanted something else along with getting pregnant."

It was undeniable. I don't think she could have been so sexually abandoned if all she only wanted pregnancy.

"Prove it I said," jokingly.

"I'll prove it right where we began," she laughed, and slipping off her shorts and panties, she sat on the kitchen table and lifting up and spreading her legs, she put her feet on the top. Like the first time, her fingers opened the lips of her vulva, and I entered her.

Thursday the sea calmed down to a millpond calm and Harper came for us. We left Storm Island sad to be leaving our rather wild Heaven on earth, and I at least wondering what hell on earth awaited us at home.

Anna telephoned to let him know we were on our way, and putting the receiver down, looked puzzled.

"That's odd," she said. "I telephoned the house without thinking, but normally your father would be at work. I wonder what he was doing at home? By the way, I think you'd better go back to calling me 'Mother' for the time being."

When we got home father was there to greet us. He did not look particularly pleased to see us, but made no comment about our delayed return, except to say, "Thought you might never come back."

He actually sounded as if he wished we hadn't.

Things now settled into there old routine. Father and mother went off to their work places, and I, rather unsettled, and having no desire to proceed with the plans I had prior to Storm Island, wandered around waiting for mother to come home, and our coupling in her bedroom late at night.

It went on like this for a fortnight, and then mother told me she would have to tell father she was pregnant. She was going to do this in my absence, but I insisted on being present.

She chose a moment when we were all together in the lounge after the evening meal.

"Ernest," she said, addressing father, "I'm pregnant."

This flat announcement did not seem to register with father for a moment, then his eyes shot open.

"You can't be. We haven't…haven't…"

"Fucked for years?" said mother, completing his sentence for him.

There was another pause while he stared at mother, then his face darkened.

"By God, you've been fucking with someone."

"That is the usual way women get pregnant," mother responded, calmly.

"You…you…how long have you known?"

"I'm probably two or three weeks over due."

I could see his arithmetical mind calculating.

"But you've been on Storm…Oh my God, you two have been…" He turned on me.

"You filthy little bastard, you've seduced…****d your own mother."

Mother waded in. "You can stop that, Ernest. If anything I seduced Philip."

Father went white and stammered and spluttered for a while, and finally came out with, "You foul i****tuous pair." He turned on mother; "You're a slut, an evil slut. You should be burned at the stake…you..."

I stepped over to him and laid one finger on his chest. "Father, you can call me what you like, but if you speak to Anna like that again I'll…"

"Oh, it's Anna is it. You have been getting cozy on that island…and you'll do what, my depraved little boy?"

"I shall find it necessary to hit you, father."

"Stop it Philip." Mother took my hand from father's chest and went on: "Ernest, have you taken to wearing women's underclothes?"

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"If you haven't, then how do you account for these?"

Mother put her hand into the pocket of her jeans and took out a little piece of flimsy fabric. She gave it a shake, and it was revealed as the scantiest pair of women's panties I had ever seen.

Father looked shaken for a moment, then tried to stammer his way out of it.

"I…I…I…they're yours…I didn't…"

"Come on Ernest," said mother, "I know why you wanted Philip to come with me to Storm Island. It wasn't inconvenient to have him around the place while I was away. I knew that even before we left for the island. If you want to have some of your nice little girls here, fine, but don't' come the outraged moralist with me."

"All right," yelled father, "I had a girl here, but at least it wasn't i****t and she's not pregnant."

"Ernest," mother went on, "I know what Philip and I have done is i****t, but at least we've done it in love. I hope the same is true of you and your little lady. And next time, tell her not to leave her knickers in the bathroom."

"As far as you are concerned, Anna," father raged, "You can get out of my house." I'm not living with a depraved pair like you. Go and do your i****tuous fucking somewhere else."

"It is not your house, Ernest," mother said quite calmly. "It is our house. If I leave it, then a suitable financial settlement will be necessary."

Father knew she was right, and mumbled something about seeing his lawyer.

From then on things moved a quite a pace. Anna went in search of a house, and when found, we moved in. Soon after we learned that father's lady friend of the flimsy knickers had joined him in the old home.

At the time of writing, Anna is seven months pregnant and looking lovely. In fact, Anna is looking so good, I'm wondering if we might risk another pregnancy in the future. I really must discuss that with her some time.