Incest/Taboo Sonnymoon Cruise

Then he spent long minutes with each breast, I felt like he was looking for lumps. Or maybe buying melons? The nipples were viewed so close up; I thought he ought to get a magnifying glass if he wanted more detail. I can't imagine what navel gazing did for him, with my pipik button, but he found some kind of connection evidently. I mean, there was an umbilical one originally, right? Then he went for the toes. No foot fetish though, just a careful look. I had a pedicure a couple weeks back, so they were not too bad. They could have used a bit of polish; the sandals were making it tough to maintain the lacquer.

He rolled me over and had me spread my legs, then he opened my cheeks. I doubt that he was memorizing the shape of my asshole. I hope not! But I think that he was gauging the angle for penetration, if he was going to do the doggie-position, or possibly during a back-rub, to enter my vagina. Jacob always loved doing that, so did my lover, way back when. I think it's because I have small buttocks, my tush is tiny for a woman my age. But then I'm short too, thank God I've stayed thin. Grandma was a roly-poly Pole. I dodged that genetic bullet. "DAMN IT, Samuel that tickles!" Fiddling with the back of my knees, he should know better, at his age!

He rolls me on my back again, spreads my knees. I maybe could use stirrups? Maybe he will want a flashlight, is there a bear in the cave, or is it just a bare cave? He is leafing through the labia, despite myself my clit swells, and I lubricate. But this is strictly clinical tonight, tomorrow is play-time, a surprise for you too . . . wait and see, or . . read. I got an excellent examination of his genitalia the other day, when I had him squirt. The rest, not so interesting. After all, for most women it's more what's in the head and heart, than shapely calves. Still, a great set of buns is fine beefcake to contemplate, right ladies?

Finally, he was done. I raised my arms, and we hugged. His peter was poking, but I wasn't offering any refuge to the beggar at the door. He would have to stay hungry for another day. I got him on his tummy and rubbed his back. Soon he was softly snoring. Then I drifted off, and dreamed I was a young girl, running along a sandy strand, chased by a dozen boys. They were all naked as Adam; I wore a gossamer diaphanous flowing long dress that billowed with the warm sea breeze. I never let them catch up, but never got too far ahead. I knew how to keep their interest. They followed the scent from between my thighs, which wafted on the breeze. One young man led the pack. I turned to see his face. It was Sammy.

We needed to get going early for our day's adventure. I ordered room service as soon as I awoke, nothing elaborate, in fact, the fruit we could take with us. This was our third day at the second Island; the bus was waiting to take us to a special spot. I let my eyes sparkle with amusement, as Sam tried to guess where we were headed. When a sign said 'Dolphin Bay', it was a giveaway. Being in the water with those animals was a thrill I will never forget, nor regret the extra it cost to bump another couple to the submarine ride.

Maybe not nice, but they were promised another chance at a later port. Dolphin skin is tough, but so smooth, muscles hard but supple too. Much like a mammoth penis in a way, when you think about it, and of course, they are always slick with wetness. They have a sense of humor, and personalities. They are fast, but will also come right up to you, once you have been properly introduced. That was one highlights of our trip for both of us, one from the tours we had. There were other highlights as well, but we will cum to them later on in this narrative.

When we got back to the ship mid-afternoon, I was starved. We got oversize sandwiches from the snack-bar. Then, we had our picture taken for the souvenir shot they sell at the end of the cruise. There wasn't a line yet, like there would be later. Janice had clued me in on that trick. Samuel and I played shuffle board with an elderly couple, on their 'third honeymoon'. I mean shuffle board is required at least once, right? Tradition! Then we did a little gambling, lost $50 between us. Keep away from the 'devil's wheel'! I told Sam, as he was the big loser of the day; I only dropped $15 at the slots. Then dinner was nice, with a regular group of folks at our table, we had grouper, or some big fish cooked 'Island style', which meant pineapple and spices. But tasty.

We decided against the vaudeville show. We had seen plenty in the Catskills back in the day. Instead, we opted for catching the early show of a little romantic comedy film, recently out, that neither of us had seen. Then it was time for my surprise to be sprung. I hustled us back to the cabin and told Sam to change into his swim trunks, a tee shirt and flip-flops. (If you get them on the wrong feet are they flop-flips?) I had a similar outfit. I had reserved one of the private hot-tub rooms. They were hard to get, there was a waiting list. Lots of honeymooners, of course. But I knew the booking guy had a family that could use . . . let's just say, they were going to be a few car payments ahead of their regular income. Nobody got bumped this time, just a room that was allowed to be used past regular closing time.

I had specified the temperature being about the same as the shallows at the beach. Nowadays, the chemicals are not so harsh, and the water was very nice. The jets were easy to control; I put some on but not all. I had Samuel make sure the door was locked. I turned the lights as low as they would go. Then I stripped. Sam followed suit, un-suiting himself. Not a word was said, as we got in the pool. He was rigid! I wasn't going to let him fuck me, but when we were done, that pole wouldn't be a problem for a while. I mean, I was his mother, and while we had been doing some rather unorthodox activities together, I couldn't allow that to happen. I hoped I could keep that promise to myself. I'm sure that 'Oedi-Sam-son' had strong feelings, in the opposite camp.

But I was in charge, so far at least. "Tonight, in this tub," I said to Sammy, "which is a tidal pool for our purposes (or maybe porpoises) we are not people at the moment, but dolphins. You must close your eyes and find your way around by sound, using echo location. If you find another dolphin, you may frolic with her, but she might not be in heat, you'll just have to discover what she will allow. Do you understand?"

"Eee . . Eee . . Eee" squeaked Sammy, in a poor imitations of the dolphin's call we had heard this morning. His eyes were closed at least.

"Eeee . . Eee . . yourself!" I said and closed my eyes. With my head close to the water, I could hear my son splashing as he sought me. No doubt with mating on his mind, and other parts of his anatomy. I held still, then moved away, as he, not so quietly, sought me. But it was a small pool, and eventually he found me. I went, "Eeeee . . ooo . .eee!" as his hands - flippers - floundered around my torso, and between my legs. I swam away, but he was listening closer now, and followed. I could feel his ventral protrusion, like a rude rudder. My female center was heating the water. We circled, and did a kind of grappling, grasping exploration, eyes still closed.

Occasionally it got awkward, as aiming is visual for humans, but soon enough, we got the hang of finding our way around each other, by touch. He got to move his flippers all over my mammeries, and down where he was only allowed to peer at, last night. I handled his stick, and ran my fingers all over his hind end, and through his chest hairs. What a sensual exhilaration to use only tactile, rather than visual means, to explore another person's body. In water, it was sliding and slippery and smooth, and the muscles were defined in a different way, even that special one that stuck out from his loins. I kept playing the coy female, squirming away, before any overt, or even covert, connection was made.

Finally, I took pity on the poor frustrated fella. I made know my instructions, by guiding him to the place I wanted him to sit. Then I sat on his lap, my back to his chest, my bottom on his boner. I took his hands, and brought them to my tits. He immediately began to caress them. I worked my backside, so that his dick was being masturbated by my ass. The divide of the cheeks nestled that male muscle, and I tried very carefully to make sure that the 'sweet-spot' was never in range of his ruddy helmet. I thought sure I could bring him off that way. My voice was a high pitched "Eeeee . . Eeeee . .Eeeee . . Eeee - I cried with pleasure. then - "Eeek!" I squeaked as his dick's cap skidded along the gash. His lips at my neck and hands fondling my breast had distracted me so much that I didn't immediately notice that his little diver had found my underwater cave after all!

I lifted up like I was poked with a much sharper instrument. I had been spared being a sheath to his dangerous dagger by an awkward angle. I immediately turned around however and sat down again facing him. "Don't fuck me," I whispered as I ground my mons on his man-meat. "But I do want you to cum on mommy's tummy." He responded with back and forth sawing, on my lower abdomen. It was more dangerous, but I had more control of the situation, at least an early warning system. The other way, I realized if he had found the exact spot and right orientation, he would have been up where only his father, and one other man, had been in the last twenty years. And I would have had no defense, perhaps even allowed him to . . . how did Auntie Mame put it? Allowed him "to do what little boy fishies do to little girl fishies." What would that coupling spawn? More incest that would be certain. With that channel marked by his buoy, I would be a long gone gull!

I was going to get off this way with him, as the head of that pike pushed against my clit and raked along my labia. I sensed it getting lower and lower, but the strokes were longer and longer. I figured he would cream quickly this way. For me it felt soo goood, it had been soo loong since last time. His cock was so hard and long, and just exactly in the right groove. I grabbed him with my arms around his back; my boobs were mashed against his chest. My head was next to his, I whispered moans of encouragement in his ear. His hips were pushing on the built-in molded bench. It was getting too. . Oh my God! It touched the hollow! It dipped into the cavity of my sex, a fraction. I froze. I clamped him, to try to stop any more motion. NO! Oh Please! Not. . We can't. . My brain was racing with wild thoughts, I remembered my dream. Sammy leading the pack, my gown was suddenly gone, and I ran down the beach naked now, and Sammy was gaining on me. He caught me.

I could feel the tip was wiggling in the worm hole; the snake was nosing into the nest. . I succumbed to the temptation to accept sex with my son as a sacrifice for his sanity . . I could sense the bulb press open the mouth of my sex . . Oh! Yes I wanted it, I wanted him . . I admitted it . . I can't help myself . . my boy . . almost died . . it was going in, it was just right there, almost into me . . what is he waiting for? . . I gave him birth . . life . . now he is returning . . to the womb . . the tip is pulsing at the soft spot, the place I need him, the . . Oh God! my clit is . . I'm cumming! . . come on Samuel come into mommy, and cum in mommy! He's cumming . . just at the . . outside . . almost in, not quite . . half the tip . . The only muscles moving for either of us are the involuntary ones, that are spasming with our orgasms . . the climax is so good . . but not what I had in mind. Not the more innocent fun I had planned earlier, not what I craved at the peak of our intimacy.

I was filled with relief, but with a sense of loss, as well, for what might have been. The rational is mixed with the emotional, and they won't meld, they just swirl. Like the water that flows around us, washing the fluids of lust away, and reminding us we are in an artificial environment, and our circumstances are not natural. Neither are our desires, nor the reserve we have shown, (Samuel has shown, I was a rutting slut at the last). Neither of those two forces are what would be the usual happenings. We wouldn't normally have mated, nor ever been attracted to one another. But we were and almost did and we are kept apart by respect. What truly odd creatures are humans? That was a close one. But I feel all the closer to Sammy, for the almost fuck, the being right there at the entrance to his mother's core. Closer to him as much for his strength to have resisted going inside, not making love to me the way he - we - wanted to. I don't know where this goes from here, except back to the cabin. We dressed and walked back in silence.

I order a bottle of that nice wine we had the other evening. We sit on the balcony. In our swim suits, which are dry. The stars stare back. No breeze to cool tonight. I finally let out a long sigh, and look at the man who is my son, who would be happy to be my lover. I smile, and say one word. Ever so softly my voice uttered it, "damn".

"Damn", comes his echo.

That night we sleep naked in each other's arms. Not with any erotic intentions, but sensing that we both need the physical closeness which will bring us the comforting of mutual love and tenderness. I wake, but Samuel is not in bed, immediately he calls from the balcony, "I'm here, mom, everything is fine. We are underway. There's a big storm headed toward the south of the island, and we are going north. The captain decided to switch our agenda around to have good weather for the week. They have a running announcement at the bottom of the TV screen, on all the channels." We not only get satellite, beamed in, but the boat has its own series of programs. How to gamble, what tours you can book, fish you might see, shells you might find, etc. But who has time for TV on a cruise?

"So, sweetheart, what do you want to do today?" I ask, no tours ashore, when we are underway.

"Well, I looked at the 'what to do aboard the ship if you're bored' channel, and picked some things for us to try. There's bowling, bike riding, tennis, we did shuffle board, scuba lessons in the bow pool at eleven, and a diving pool at the stern, skeet shooting off port side at one, and golf practice on starboard at three. The rock climbing wall is open all day today, but you need to make reservations."

"Sam, I hate bowling, bike riding is okay, but on a track I'd be bored by the third circuit. Tennis is not my cup of tea, remember my weak ankle. We did shuffle board, I am not going scuba diving, or any kind of diving, except night clubs, those are my kind of dives. I don't shoot, guns scare me; and I don't golf, except putt-putt. Rock climbing; are you out of your gourd? You can try, not little old me!"

"Well, I think rock climbing might be interesting, but I was hoping to do something with you." He pauses, the rat! "Of course there is ballroom dance practice at ten AM, the sun will be out by one, they think, and the bow pool has a complimentary drink served after two. We could lounge and get wet every once in a while, to keep cool. Work on getting that nice tan that says, 'I was on vacation in the Caribbean!'"

"You scamp! Why did you go through all the rest of that crap to begin with? Is that the way I raised you?"

"Why, yes mother, I learned from the best, yourself!"

"That's my boy! What time is it, now?"

"Half past eight: we can dress for the ballroom, informal skirts for gals and shirts for men. Sneakers and sandals discouraged. Leather twirls better. After breakfast, promenade around the decks for a little, and then head to the dance floor on deck D. After a light lunch, change and go sunning and swimming, until dinner, or a nap, whatever comes first. After dinner, there is a choice of a play, a comedy, or the musical stylings of a troupe of folk singers and musicians from the area."

"Sounds like a plan!" and that's what we did. When it came to changing though, I no longer bothered with the bathroom. Sam had seen every inch of skin, no reason to be falsely modest now. But that was not going to be common practice when we got back home, when he came to visit. Especially, if Jan was around! Dancing with Samuel was wonderful, and quite romantic. People acted like we were a couple, even though there was clearly an age difference. So maybe it was a Decem . . uh, September-May romance. What did they know? We had the same last name, I was Mrs. Covey - it could happen, right? He was light on his feet, and never on mine (maybe that's why no sandals?), and led firmly just like I taught him when he was in seventh grade.

After the play, (Sam laughed so hard, it made up for the comedian) we went back to the cabin and ordered our new favorite wine again and just sat and - watched TV. But we channel surfed. I made Sammy watch a twenty minute lesson on roulette, then he vowed to give it up and try chuck-a-luck, go figure! The wine came, we got naked and went out to the balcony. The neighbors were not in evidently, I guess they like the nightlife, maybe they were at the casino area on board. The weather was sweet, the ocean had swells, we were feeling swell and like sweethearts. It was a great day. The night was about to get very good too, it turned out.

After a while I felt like stretching out, I wasn't sleepy, but just wanted to relax on the bed. Sam followed in a couple of minutes. He got next to me and whispered something naughty in my ear. I grinned and nodded. That was an activity that I would be very happy to have happen. That was a diving I hadn't thought of, muff diving. I spread my legs, and angled my knees wide. My muff was his for the diving. My pussy was ready to be eaten, late night snack buff-et. Cunnilingus here we cum! His tongue was as nimble as his feet, but I hadn't taught him this way to treat a lady. He certainly knew how to give a lady a treat! His lips made my nether lips smile; his attention to my clit was masterful. Just when I thought I was done, he would switch to a different area, and make me grab the covers building to yet another orgasm.

I loved when he would kiss my thighs, then lick them. I never knew I could be so sensual there. He made long laps on the outside of my pussy, then stuck the squirmy-pink-thing as deep as it would go in my cunt, and wildly wiggled. He strummed and hummed the pleasure bud of my most sensitive flesh, until the clit seem to vibrate on its own. Sammy used his breath to both warm and cool the damp folds, the alternating temperatures contrasts making for a unique turn-on.

Every once in a while he would rise and pay attention to my nipples. They appreciated not being left out of the fun. Most of the raunchy recess was devoted to making my crotch a playground for his mouth. My entire womanhood was a romper-room for my child's face. He had somehow shaved before this happy-meal, I wasn't sure when, but the smooth cheeks left no beard-burn. All I had to do was keep from smothering him, when my orgasms made my legs clutch in involuntary clamping.

I climbed to climax after climax. I was exhausted by the time his face gave out and he could no longer lick, lap, suck or hold his neck in position. God, he even used his nose on my nubbin! I hauled him up to me, with what little strength left, and kissed him profusely, Frenching and letting his rod nudge my pudenda. He tasted of me, but it was good; it was messy, but I didn't mind. It was to be expected, after he had made a fabulous effort to make his mama go floating to cloud nine. But it had been a long day, and before anything else happened, before we knew it, we were both asleep. It might have been because of all that sun, it more likely had been all because of my son.

The ship's horn blasted me awake. I was half-asleep. Great, I thought, we've hit an iceberg. I hope they have enough lifeboats. Where are the life vests? Then I realized, it was daylight, you don't hit icebergs in daylight, they only come out at night. I certainly came last night! I cranked my head, and saw mountains in the distance. Was that one of those floating islands? We were at sea; can you hit floating islands in the day? I then came fully awake with the next blast of the horn; we were coming into the new port. A sister ship was passing us on our side. Were we port or starboard? Maybe starboard 'cause we saw lots of stars at night. Not port, port was a wine, but we had found a better one to imbibe. I looked in the mirror. My hair was a mess. And my hair-do too. The delta was a sticky sodden mess, and my coif a rat's-nest. Better to just wash and rinse. What the hell, we were on vacation, right? I was on my son's honeymoon, and the poor guy hadn't gotten laid yet!

Should I fix that? Actually, that was something I could fix, if I wanted to. Dead puppies, no; broken engagements, no: live pussy, yes, - mend his heart, yes, - save his life, YES! Give him birth, give him life; share his berth, share myself - - that was the question wasn't it. The horn sounded yet again, like God blowing his nose. Samuel slept the sleep of the just - or just plain exhausted. He had really given it his all, last night. I never had that it like that from Jacob, or my lover. But my son had made me see stars last night. Cum an ocean of orgasms. Tasted my wine, and made me drunk from climaxing so much. And yet he had not taken me, or even tried to, he had respected me, even when I was at my most vulnerable.

I was proud of him. I felt sorry for him too. And for me. I asked myself, what bit of virtue did I have that was so valuable to hold back. I wouldn't do it for wealth, I'd spend it. I wasn't married, he wasn't married. What was the difference between what we had already done, and actually doing it, except one of degree? There wasn't going to be any need for birth control. Nobody was going to know. Why not, we both wanted to - yes I wanted to. Samuel had wanted to for years. Now I had warmed to the idea for a few days, and I wanted to too!

I admitted it, to myself, I admitted it. But it had to be special, it couldn't be by accident. I mean, it almost had been, but it shouldn't be. It should be by mutual consent, and a special occasion, like the first time you do it with a lover. He was my lover, really, now you have to say he was, after all we had been through. It should be like the first time you . . . you do it on your wedding night! This was my . . sonny-moon! I was Samuel's, not his consolation prize, rather his surprise consummation! "Mom, don't you get it, it's you! I'm in love with you." Only, now I got it. I was certain that this Sammy-moon would be a new chapter in our lives. What's a little incest among family, anyway? Right? Even though it might be wrong for some, it was going to be good for us. LACH HYMEN! To Life! You should pardon the pun. No virgins in this bed though.

I certainly wasn't innocent; I had bitten the apple of temptation long ago, and tasted the sweetness of forbidden fruit. I knew Sam wanted to nibble on the 'fruit of the knowledge of good and Eden', also. God knows, he had tasted all the places I had to offer, except that which was sampled not with lips and tongue, but with carnal knowledge. So be it, amen. Thank heavens, I didn't believe in hell, 'cause I think this was going to need a big redemption, to make it kosher with the Almighty. On the other hand, look at all the in-house fiddling that went on in the Bible. If they were made righteous, in the sight of the Lord, maybe there was hope for the rest of us sinners. Who knows, right?

My son the innocent, who wanted to sin with mama, stirred. I was suddenly famished. I got us dressed, and to the breakfast table and we spent an hour sampling everything they had. Jacob would have loved the salmon. They had run out of onion bagels though. We went into port, and did gift shopping for Janice and others. I got a lovely duty-free amethyst pendant. Sam picked up two bottles of a favorite liqueur he loved, but was very expensive back in the States. In the afternoon, we hopped one of the sightseeing buses, and toured the north side of the island, famous falls and old forts, and the Governor's mansion build for a buccaneer originally. Did you know that they made more money from making and selling bacon, than being pirates? It's true! Who knew? Of course Caribbean cooking wasn't kosher; otherwise maybe they might have become caterers. Less bloodshed, more profits.

In the evening, a Big Band orchestra was playing, and we danced the night away. They had a fabulous midnight buffet smörgåsbord. We could have been rolled back to our cabin, we were so stuffed. That's one thing I learned about cruises, they feed you and feed you, everything is four star cuisine, and costs twice as much. You gain twenty pounds in two weeks, and nothing fits when you get home. So that's why you have to go naked, or go shopping when you get back. Trust me, it's true, ask anybody that's ever gone on a pleasure cruise. We didn't even want wine that night, just fell into bed, and fell asleep. Well, we managed to strip, tradition.

The ship traveled south again, and there was so much to do, even at sea. Sammy did try rock climbing, but I couldn't stand to watch, even though they put a harness on him. I kept remembering the sprained ankle I got, so I went and found a bridge game. We swam; it was our turn to dine with the captain, a charming Scandinavian gentleman who had been a commander of ships for twenty years. I asked him if that made him a Scandenavel officer? He replied that that he never had been involved in a scandal at sea, but if I was interested, perhaps he might make an exception for a woman as beautiful and alluring as myself. Of course, though, he pointed out I already had a handsome escort, to squire me around. I told you he was charming, and the very picture of the good-looking dashing Captain, white beard and all.

Then they made the announcement of which newlywed couple had won the lottery prize of gifts. That's right, we did; we won! I mean, it was nice, and it's not as if I couldn't afford all those little luxuries if we wanted. But how do you explain, sitting at the Captain's table, the name change from Madeline to mine, I was still Mrs. Covey. How do you turn the gift basket down, without embarrassing Samuel, and admitting that he got dumped at the altar, that he was on his 'honeymoon' with his mom. Plus the fact, that we had been taken for a romantic couple all over the ship by now. We had a rep for being rather lovey-dovey. What do you say? Samuel looked stunned, and was about to give it back, but I elbowed him, and said, "Thank you very much!" And took the prize basket, with all kinds of certificates and goodies. Easier that way, and less to explain. Especially if we got caught on the balcony in our birthday suits. Nu?

Among the prizes was a gift certificate for two at the ship's spa. Massages, make-over, hair, nails, and a private session in one of the whirlpool/hot tub/love-nest baths. For three hours. Private. Sound proof? Well, it was for newlyweds, it had better be, or at least next to the engine room, where loud cries of ecstasy could not be overheard. It was going to be noisy. I am very vocal, when I cum in private. I was curious to see if Samuel took after me, in that. So far, with our suite, we knew we had neighbors, and had been discreetly whimpering, when we went over the top, as we climaxed. But this was going to be a whole other 'ball' game.

After dinner, the Captain invited his table guests to take a private tour. We got to go to some areas of the ship which were not open to the public usually. Except that this was a standard tour, for the first-class passengers when they had dinner with the Commodore. We were shown the engine room, and the kitchens, the some of the crew quarters, and even the laundry (fresh sheets and towels everyday for 976 persons!). Of course the bridge was included, and I even got to steer the boat with my hands on the wheel. Though I doubt I actually had anything to do with where the vessel was going, still, I managed to miss any icebergs that were out there! We were underway to a new island, and yet more adventures, both on land, and at sea, and even underwater. Back at the cabin we snuggled in bed, and caught a program on the tube about tropical fish, then drifted off to dreamland for a well needed rest.

The morning of the tenth day, we had reservations for a submarine trip. This had been suggested by my cousin, the travel agent. She said it was something not to be missed, but was best booked in advance. She was so right! You go in this small sub, about thirty passengers, and the pilot. You're maybe 60 - 70 feet down, but the water is so clear there is plenty of light. There's coral and rocks, and shipwrecks (for artificial reefs), and fish and fishes. Schools of tropical fish, which were on the program the night before, others I didn't recognize, but all were dazzling in bright colors. Animals you otherwise only see at the aquarium were pointed out. Only down there, they are harder to spot, camouflaged. The pilot was our guide. There were sharks of several sorts. Not too scary, when there is a two-foot porthole, three inches thick, between you and those teeth. We were treated a nice size moray eel, and chanced on a small octopus. Octopi, we learned, like to hide when they heard the sub coming. And there was a large squid on the other side, but I missed it.

After lunch we had put in for our 'honeymoon' spa time. Samuel got a haircut, and I had mine trimmed and given some highlights. We both got manicures, pedicures, facials and massages together. I gave the masseuses a fifty dollar tip each, to leave us alone with the bottles of body oil, and not check back for 30 minutes. Then we gave each other some more naughty kinds of rub downs. No place was off limits, so not only did we play with each other's genitalia, but even the anus got a goose or two! Then, I took a bunch of towels, and laid them over the broad couch. It had no back, but one end was slightly raised, you know the sort. I told Sam to stretch out. I got next to him, and poured a half bottle of the oil over our already coated bodies.

Then we slithered together like to eels, mating. But we didn't screw; we just had slippery fun, rubbing against each other like those Turkish wrestlers. But we were not having any kind of conflict, just the opposite; we were involved in a mutual grappling of a love-feast. With lots of French kissing and feeling-up, but no climaxes were allowed. I promised Sammy that was for a little later. Thank goodness the masseuses knocked when they came back!! Then, as if we hadn't enough of indulging of togetherness, we showered together; the soap and shampoo were scented. I chose lavender for me, Samuel had spicy-lime. We smelled good. After a bite to eat, and a couple of drinks at the closest bar, we went back to the spa for our three hour reservation, in what was called the "Honeymooner's Deluxe Water-Nest".

It was a huge hot tub, a small heated pool, really. It had jets, and water-whirl effects, and padded broad benches, so you were up to your neck if you sat. You could stretch out on the side of the water too, on a six-foot pad that also was good for floating on the water. There was a full-sized fridge, filled with fruit drinks, and cheese and soda, and all sorts of snacks of that kind. And while no wine or booze was allowed, they had a variety of cold beer too. There was even a little floating table for drinks and food! The door had a lock; a sauna was situated on the side, the toilet and a shower on the other.

The place had all that you could ask for. Including time and privacy, and (I checked!) sound proofing. It was time to consummate our sonny-moon; the mommy-son coupling that had been gradually gaining ground, while we were voyaging at sea. I had come to accept it as inevitable. Sammy had waited for it for much longer, but never thought the day would arrive. Samuel's dearest desire was to make love to his mother. I loved my dearest son and wanted to make his desire cum true.

I reached over and took off Sam's big fluffy terrycloth robe, which they had given each of us. We got to keep them; they were part of the deal. Sammy relieved me of my robe. He hugged me, my mature breasts were full, and the erect points pushed into his chest, as he reached behind and undid the ties of my top. The strings at my neck and at the back came loose. The pressure of our bodies was the only reason that it didn't land on the floor.

I hooked my thumbs in his waistband and worked his swimsuit over his hips to fall at his ankles. Likewise, he then loosened the knots at the sides of my bottoms, and they landed next to his, as well. Sammy released his hold for a moment, my top dropped, then we were sans suits, and in each other's arms. The garments puddled at our feet, white icing with floral swirls. Sam bent over, scooped them up and tossed them into a corner. They were superfluous fig leaves, in this, our Eden.

There were steps, but we just jumped in. The lights were on, but it was soft indirect lighting. Sam found a remote on the floating table, and discovered there was mood music available. We agreed on a kind of a new-age mellow melody, that was a duet with harp and piano. Sammy took me in his arms, and sort of swayed me - swam me, in time to the music. As if I was Esther Williams, doing ballroom. And that's what this place was, a water room for balling. A bathtub for boffing. It was time to make our connection, to rejoin in body, mother and child, now man and woman.

Male and female, the Creator made them. He made them to mate, cleave; I could feel my son's manhood at my womanly cleft. I was lubricated and ready. He swung me over to an underwater seat, and lined up his shaft with my submerged cave. The Samuel eel swam in my sea-weeds, then retreated, and darted again. This time the head found the crevasse it sought, and his blunt front nudged through the portal. We both let out a sigh/gasp sound of pleasure.

But there was yet much more, to delving in the hidden depths of heated wetness. So this masthead, the prow of Sam-son's muscle, full strength, with pubic hair unshorn, entered my temple of sin and lust. His pillar pushed at the place, where Delilah delighted to entertain. He plowed where his sire had sown; he lunged into where my lover had stabbed. He went into where he had come from, and where he was going, he would cum, too. I opened for his harpoon, the spear penetrated flesh, and went deep to the heart of my center, touched bottom, bumped my womb.

For a long and sweet moment it hesitated, then began the ancient rhythm, the beat of love, the cycles of sexual swaying to instinctual intercourse. Of course, this was incest, this above all else was the lowest we could go in our base cravings, the highest of crimes of this kind. Yet it seemed to me the most sacred of loves, and the most pure of unions. Because it was a spiritual reuniting.

But the physical sensation was heightened by the forbidden nature of our passion. I was a hole, to be ravished by the peg of hardness that plugged into it again and again. Sammy's prick plied my pussy, making everything in my body feel good. My son's cock jammed in my cunt, and concentrated on making his mama cum. Our torsos were slipping together, as if still oiled. My legs were cantilevered up, supported in Samuel's gripping palms, which hitched under my knees.

We were so primed from the days of foreplay, leading up to this, that we were ready to reach the cataclysm early. Indeed, the paced quickened in a short time. I could tell by the signs of our impending boom, it was near. I felt my vagina tighten, and his strokes became erratic, with the head only going half way. Then banging, and holding it socked against me to the very root, sacks squashed on my butt. Then pounding, as the mad urge of rutting took over.

I now gave full voice to the crazy flashes that filled my brain, and radiated from the center of my entire being. "Yes! YES!! I Needd It!! I have to HAVE YOU! . . Sammy, SAMMY! OH! GOD!! MY SWEETY SON - Fuck ME . . . FUCK MOMMY, BABY, YES YES YES!! NOW . . UH, Uh NOOWW . . . I'M CUMMING I'm CUMMING on YOU, SAMMY! I'm cumming AGAIN . . AHH! Yes again, MORE, MORE . . Mmmmm . . Uuuh ooh, yes, yeess baby, ooh! that was soo good, Sammy, sweetie!" I smothered his face in kisses, and hugged him as tight as I could.

His penis was pulsing as his prick experienced the aftermath of his completed orgasm. He told me later that he had grimaced and squealed, 'I'm cumming, too, mom!', but I hadn't heard it, over my own echoed shouts of ecstasy. Still, it was obvious, by the copious flow of jism that dribbled out of my pussy that he had been equally pleasured with our screwing.

The first time had been special, planned, and mutually consensual. And Ooh-Soo-Blissful for both of us! Not a surprise exactly, but not a consolation prize, either. A sonnymoon prize that wasn't in the basket, but it was in the cards, though it was no fuck-by-luck. This was an amazing adventure that was also a journey home. It became a voyage of discovery of each other as sexual persons, people with secrets, hidden lusts, and concealed feelings. Madeline had left him at the altar (okay, canopy), she had left him altered - changed, (not 'altered' as in castrated). That had freed him so that he had finally been forced to be open about his desires for me. That was lucky, look what he would have missed!

Well, he wasn't going to miss any more chances, to make love to his horny mama. Because after a beer, washing down some cheese and crackers, we got up on the long mat, and with me kneeling, he got behind me. Then he put his long schlong in and began schtupping his mother once more. Oh YES! I loved it! I can't choose my favorite position for sex, anymore than I could choose between Janice and Samuel, as a favorite child. They are each special, and unique; precious and loved for their own selves. But, I do like doing the 'doggie'.

There is something primal and primitive about getting taken from behind. Like monkeys, rather apes; the Bonobos in this case, as they too commit mother/son incest. Animals we are, as well as being human; the raw sensation of being reamed in my cunt, by a hard cock, was positively primordial. With my asshole open to the air and his testicles banging against my clit that is so lewd, rude, crude, and naughty, nasty and nice a vice. His tool sawed in me, we were the breeding pair on the ark.

This time I was quieter, I wanted to hear my boy cum, while he squirted into his mother. It wasn't easy, because at that angle, Sammy was hitting my G-spot. I had that zing-thing making my cunny flutter, and the lotion was flooding, as the contractions overwhelmed all thinking. But clear as a bell came his voice, as he was cumming. "Oh, Yeah Mama!! I'm in, in you, I'm cumming in you!! CUM WITH ME MOM!!, NOW - NOW - NOW!!"

Pow-pow-pow the shot was spewing in my pussy, and triggering a secondary climax for me, as well. We collapsed into a spooning position. Both out of breath, and orgasms for the time being. Soon, it was nice to slip into the water, to wash off the sweat and secretions, and cool down. After, we both used the facilities to relieve our bladders; Sam got two more beers, and returned to my side. We sat on one of the benches that had jets bubbling around us.

He had to make another trip in a few minutes, as those brews went down fast. Sex is thirsty work! I had forgotten that. Had it been that long? Yes, but it wouldn't be all that long again! Not with what Samuel had confessed, about his feelings for me. Not with what had happened in the last week, and the past hour! In fact, I could see that he was regaining the wood in his lance of lust, even as we were on break. I didn't want to get sore; after all we still had - was it really only four days left, until we were back to . . - four days until the real world again.​