Incest/Taboo Time + Magic + Love = Mom

Since I was a teenager, I've loved Robert Heinlein's "Time Enough For Love" and have always wanted to do a incest time travel story. Here is mine. Any mistakes I've made about Woodstock are mine own...I wasn't there, alas, to make that part more factual. Likewise, all the psuedoscience is pure hokum, necessary to move the story along. I think you're going to like it and I look hearing back from y'all on this, be it positive or negative. Enjoy

As always, all characters within the story are part of my imagination and exist solely within the confines of the story and my mind.

Maybe it was the fact that it was the waning of the Age of Reagan with all its conservative values and button-down, uber-yuppie pervasiveness that made me decide to volunteer for the experiment with the mad scientist. Maybe it was that I was nineteen and homesick and suddenly unsure that I wanted to be at MIT or if I was even smart enough to be there. Its one thing to be the smartest kid in your high school class in Podunk, Tennessee, and another to discover that you're slightly below average when compared to your classmates at the nation's best engineering school.

The 1988 Spring semester was over and I was subletting a rathole from a grad student who was doing a summer seminar at Berlin Polytechnic, working two crummy jobs as a dishwasher and a short-order fry cook and regretting not going home for the summer, but I was trying to be independent and not rely on Mom for any expenses not already covered by my scholarship. Living in my little hovel on ramen noodles and oxygen, by my figuring would leave me just enough for books come Autumn.

Mom was back in East Tennessee, working as a registered nurse and doing her hippie-dippie health food business on the side -- growing and selling herbs out of a little shed next to our home back, situated in an isolated hollow that only the most dedicated health nuts and aging hippies bothered to truck out to. I missed her terribly -- Mom being the only parent I'd ever had -- she not having a clue who my father was other than that his name was John (she'd named me after him), and that they'd met and loved a lifetime's worth at Woodstock...yeah, that Woodstock. There was no one on the face of the Earth I was closer to.

So anyway, on a rare day off, I was wandering around the student center at MIT, checking my mail and the bulletin board for any extra work when I saw a notice that read:

WANTED!

ENGINEERING STUDENT W/ HISTORY MINOR

FOR

TEMPORAL PHYSICS WORK.

PAYS WELL

INQUIRE AT 555-4356

ASK FOR DOCTOR CRAIG

I raised my eyes at the term temporal physics until I saw who one had to contact. Doctor Craig...Crazy Craig as he was mostly known around campus. Professor Craig, possessor of doctorates in astrophysics and quantum physics and who had lost his tenure and his position after he began mixing physics and mysticism in his lectures.

I started to walk away, but turned around and looked at it again, the words "PAYS WELL," burning into my brain. There had been rumors that Crazy Craig was still around, that he'd used family money to set up an independent laboratory in an old milk pasteurizing plant outside town. I was hesitant, but then there was the thought of a summer doing nothing but washing dishes and singing out, "Order up!" I fished around in my pockets for a dime and went in search of a pay phone.

After a brief interview with the mad scientist himself, I found myself making five hundred bucks a week working with a deranged mind who thought he could build a time machine. In a way, it was a hoot. Craig was brilliant in his own hysterical way...just bullshitting about quantum mechanics during work breaks taught me more about the subject than a years worth of lectures by drier and more unimaginative folk.

My primary job was to construct a machine from his unorthodox diagrams. Construction wasn't hard considering I had no clue as to his power source and that the layout of the construct followed no discernable pattern. It appeared to me that the thing which was a huge circular tube chamber made out of titanium cocooned within an elaborate web of fiber optic cable serving as power couplings, would simply feed back on itself if it was ever hooked up to an actual power source.

Whatever the power source would be, Crazy Craig was distinctly vague about, although he did have me built a hollow container of titanium to hold the power source that was maybe the size of a cigar box. He claimed the entire thing was based on an ancient diagram of "ley lines" of earthpower shared with him by an ancient holy man while traveling in Nepal in the late 1950s and that in ancient times they -- not really sure who "they" were, had used it to time travel.

Okay, he was absolutely nuts, but he paid in cash, including overtime when he had his serious 'mad-on' periods when we'd work around the clock while he spouted gibberish about time being like a river with all of us simply riding the currents and that his machine would allow one to row back upstream against those currents.

It was certainly the most fun I'd ever had since I'd started college. It also wasn't like I had a whole lot else going on. There was no girlfriend. I'm not all that bad looking a guy -- five foot, eleven and one hundred and seventy pounds, a shock of black hair that was unfashionably long in those awfully conservative Reagan days, and in pretty good shape from all the work I'd been doing, but I was as socially awkward as I approached my twentieth birthday as I'd been the first time I had frozen up trying to ask a girl to dance at the Seventh Grade Valentine Social.

The only female...in truth, the only other human I really had any contact with that summer was Mom who I always called (collect, of course), every Sunday afternoon. I made her laugh as I described my work with Crazy Craig, although she admonished me when I would tell her that his time machine would never work.

With the always cheerful optimism that she always possessed -- what I always referred to as her 'Hippy-dippy disposition,' she told me one Sunday in late July, "John, there are mysteries of the universe that are always out there just waiting to be unlocked. Magic and science might simply be the same thing from different points of view!"

I laughed and said, "Sounds deep, Mom. Maybe you can knit a little sampler with that on it...put it right next to the one about "Love is a warm puppy."

Mom chuckled back with better humor than I deserved. "Love is a lot of things, sweetie. Just don't judge him too harshly. You never know...he might be right about all of this."

"Right," I said sarcastically. "Tell you what, Mom, if he lets me take a joyride back in time, I'll look your younger self up and say, 'Hi!'"

There was a long pause and then Mom said in a funny voice, "I think I'd like that."

Mom seemed a bit awkward after that and we finally said goodbye to each other and I walked back to my little roach hotel of an apartment wondering what was up with her. Mom rarely seemed off her game. She was a bright spirit who met each day with enthusiasm...still seeming like the young hippie chick I'd seen pictures of when I was young.

In truth, Mom was a very good looking woman, even now at the ripe old age of forty-one. She still wore her dark brown hair long, often in long braids that hung down her back. She had always fought a close to losing battle with her weight, looking a bit meaty on her five foot, eight foot frame, joking that "I was all tits and ass at eighteen and I'm all tits and ass now!" My friends had always kidded me about my sexy Hippie mom and I knew they were right. Despite favoring old tie-dyed T-shirts and blue jeans whenever she was out of her nurse smocks, she was a good looking woman, breasts often bouncing all over the place, sagging some from going braless as much of the time as possible, but still triggering responses in me that I knew one wasn't supposed to have about one's mom.

I often wondered why she hadn't gotten married, but when I would ask she would just shrug and say that she was waiting for my father to resurface. I sometimes thought she was kidding, but as I got older, the response also seemed to be a little more seriously made. I felt bad for her. I had no particular desire to meet my father other than to get the opportunity to tell him what an asshole he'd been for leaving Mom, even if he'd had no clue that I'd been conceived.

Mom was soon out of my thoughts as Crazy Craig's work kicked into high gear -- I was working twelve and sometimes fourteen hours a day, especially after he'd taken a trip to London towards the end of July. I had no idea how this was going to turn out, but I could sense that I was reaching the end of the construction of his 'time portal' as he called it. He had even started joking about how much he would have to pay me to be his first chrononaut, as he put it. I would just laugh and tell him he didn't have that much money.

As insane as he was, I never expected he would force the issue until the moment that I realized he'd dosed my coffee with something. I'd taken a break when he'd brought in coffee and donuts from the local bakery and had just downed the last of my coffee-heavy on the sugar. My hair started to tingle and then it spread until the weird sensations surrounded my head and then closed in on my brain. I remember standing up and looking at Crazy Craig who looked back at me sheepishly. I managed to say, "What the fuck di..." and everything went black.

I woke up inside the titanium tube chamber, barely able to raise my head, the world appearing to me like I was gazing into one of those carnival mirrors. Beyond my feet, a distorted Craig was attaching power couplings to the small titanium box. "Whazzz the fukkk d-d-did youz dooo?" I said in a slur, somehow proud I finished my last sentence.

Craig looked up from his work and gave me a grin that chilled me to my very core. He looked happy...really happy. "You're going to make history, John!" he exclaimed. "The first chrononaut of the modern age...the first man to time travel in fifteen thousand years!"

"Urrr, not thunk soooo," I groaned. I tried to sit up, but everything below my neck wasn't cooperating.

Craig finished his work and then dug a hand deep into his pants pocket. He pulled out what seemed to be a polished oval stone of some bluish material...jade maybe. I tried to focus my vision and was pleased when the distortion seemed to diminish a little. Simultaneously, I felt my right big toe wiggle and I was able to discern marks etched on the stone.

Craig held it out for my closer observation, seeming to be very pleased with himself. "A Lemurian rune stone...the source of power that probably built the pyramids, man," he cackled. "The very thing the ancients used to power their jaunts through time! It finally came into my hands in London. You wouldn't believe how much it cost me!" He set the stone down carefully into the hollow container. "Allow me to set your destination in the controls and you can be off on the greatest adventure in millennia."

Craig disappeared from my sight and I managed to raise my torso a little, holding out my hand imploringly as I croaked, "Craig, noooo. Izzz d-don't wan' to!"

He reappeared and to my sudden serious fright was carrying a big knife like the ones my childhood friends' fathers would carry when going deer hunting with blades that were long and sharp and fucking scary. Craig grinned at me as he said, "Blood's the key, John. It's what powers the runes. Now just relax. I'm just going to let you take a little trip backwards...not too far. I'm guessing the mid 1950s. If my calculations are correct, you should be gone about six hours."

I managed to pull one knee up and then used my hand to support me as I rose up to a sitting position -- brushing the ceiling of the tube. "Wait, Craig!" I said, my tongue thick in my mouth. What do you mean...if?"

Craig grinned at me, his madness in full glory as he shouted, "Good luck!" and slashed the knife down on his open palm.

Blood gushed out of the nasty wound, falling into the hollow container as I opened my mouth to scream, "Stop!" but I never got the word out as the machine that I had helped build began to thrum as the first drops of blood fell into the container, presumably onto the rune stone and then the whole machine glowed and my vision was fried as everything turned a brilliant white and then...

My body was gone and I simply consciousness floating in a void and then pain seemed to wrack my bodiless mind, tearing apart my very thoughts until for a brief moment or maybe for all of eternity I was simply one infinitesimal speck within all existence, yet fully aware of the entire universe, seeing and comprehending all only to have all but the frail knowledge of my own meager existence ripped away and I was again a mind joined to my body and there was great pain and a brilliant burst of light and...

I was drowning and rain splashed down on my freezing body, steam rising off me in a suddenly humid world and I swallowed muddy water and choked and pushed myself up out of the water, finding my feet on a muddy surface as my senses screamed at me with all the sudden sensory input, making me stagger and fall to my knees, still in water, but sitting above its surface.

I could hear voices...untold masses -- singing and talking and over that din was the sound of a young woman singing a familiar tune...something from out of the past and then it tumbled into place..."Mister Tambourine Man," and with the noise came the stink, the funk of those untold masses and then beyond me spanning towards a strange structure festooned with lights and speakers and then above me on a gently rising hill and beyond were those masses, tens, maybe hundreds of thousands strong.

I pressed my hands to my ears, trying to drown out the noise that kept shifting on me, feeling as if my ears had to pop due to a change in air pressure and then I staggered to my feet. I sensed movement and saw four people moving towards me -- primitive in appearance, covered in mud, approaching me from a crudely constructed tent on the hillside

Two were men, both shirtless, mud splashed over either cut off blue jeans or khakis. One was tall and lean and the other was short and squat, his chest sporting the hairiest pelt I'd ever seen on a human before. Both had hair down below their shoulders and the tall guy had a beard that anyone in ZZ-Top would have envied.

The other two were women, a short slender woman wearing a mud splattered dress that dragged along the ground despite her best efforts to hold it up over the muck above her shit-kicker boots. Her hair was whitish blonde and hung down her back in a long ponytail. The other woman was short too and naked above the waist -- huge, but firm breasts bouncing as she ran towards me, dark hair in a long, unraveling braid. She wasn't fat, but she was full bodied. A slight roll of youthful fat spilled over her blue jeans. She seemed to be barefoot.

They all approached me, all a little wide-eyed with surprised expressions.

The short, hairy man held out his hands and yelled above the music, "Fuck, Dude -- did you get hit by that bolt of lightning!"

The taller guy grinned at me and said, "Where are your fucking threads, man, or do you always go au' natural?"

I looked down at myself, stunned to see mud and dirty water running down and off my naked body. What the hell had happened to my clothes? The girl with the big breasts came closer and took my hands and I looked into her big, brown eyes that were filled with concern as she said, "Baby, you having a bad trip or what? Are you okay?"

I stared at her for a moment as the crowd roared its approval and the singer's name slipped into my mind...her name was Melanie something and I realized that I knew where I was and who this woman holding my hands was. I wasn't sure if it was shock or an after affect of whatever Crazy Craig had dosed me with, but the world started to slither away again, the only thing anchoring me to reality was the woman's firm grip on my hands. As the world started to go away, I stared into the face of the woman I knew better than anyone in the world, even though it seemed far younger than I could ever remember and said, "Hi, Mom," before everything went black.

I'm doubt there are many better ways than to wake up nuzzling a large, soft, pillow-like breast. Images of Crazy Craig and Woodstock and Melanie singing "Lay Down (Candles in the Rain)," rocketed through my mind, dismissed by a vision of my mother, stark naked and beautiful in all her Reubenesque beauty smiling at me and saying, "No, she wrote that song afterwards, honey."

I was suddenly conscious of my face resting against warm, heavenly softness and a woman humming a song that after a minute or two I recognized as "Coming Back to Me," one of her favorite Jefferson Airplane songs. Arms were holding me firmly and for a moment I had sweet memories of Mom holding me like this when I was sick or feeling blue back when I was little. I felt safe and happy.

"Hey, babe, you're back in the land of the living." It was Mom's voice, sure enough and I opened my eyes and looked into her lovely brown eyes set in a face that was so young, not yet lined with the trials and work of years of parenthood and life's usual trials. I struggled to make sense of it, memories of Crazy Craig drugging me, of his time machine and my journey in it.

I closed my eyes and whispered, "This can't be happening."

Mom giggled and replied, "Well, something's happening. We're here, babe -- the real happening. They say there's half a million people here and more coming every hour. Maybe it's the new Eden and you and me and all the rest are witnesses to the birth of a new age." Her face was glowing with pleasure and hope. She stroked my hair out of my eyes, triggering memories of my mother doing the very same thing a thousand times in my life. "Are you feeling better? You want a drink?" She reached down beside her and brought up a small bottle of Coke. "Not good for you, but it's all I got."

I realized that I was indeed parched and nodded. Mom held the bottle to my lips and I drank, starting at its taste...you forget how things used to taste -- how Coke used to taste...cane sugar having giving way to corn syrup. I choked a little and coughed before wheezing out, "Thanks."

Mom smiled down at me. "My pleasure," she replied before her eyes slid downwards. "Or maybe it's your pleasure. You popping wood for me or for the Coke?"

I glanced downwards, realizing I was absolutely naked and currently sporting an erection. I murmured, "Sorry 'bout that," and I tried to get up, but it felt like all the strings had been cut and I could barely move my arm or shift my leg.

Mom put down the Coke bottle and tightened her grip around me, pressing me closer to her semi-naked body...the realization that I resting my head on her bare pendulous breast making my hard-on throb. "Just relax. You've been on a really bad trip I think...rumor is there's some really ugly acid being passed around. Rest, baby and listen to the music. Sleep peaceful and know you're safe in Momma Chloe's arms." She moved one hand downwards and I felt a finger slightly trail over my hard cock. "This I'll just consider a compliment."

I sighed, suddenly overwhelmed again by exhaustion and even though I fought it, I couldn't keep my eyes open, my last conscious sight being Mom's loving eyes, my last sensation being my lips brushing her soft breast and nuzzling a hard swollen nub while someone sang "Amazing Grace."

I awoke to the din of a great crowd roaring underneath the louder reedy voice of someone singing the song "Tennessee Stud." I was alone in the makeshift tent but streamers of sunlight were coming through rents in the canvas. I sat up and yawned. I comprehended for the third time that I was naked and then it all came back to me and sat there for a moment not knowing what to do. Then I noticed a neatly folded pair of the ugliest Bermuda shorts I'd ever seen and beneath them a dingy, but clean T-shirt, lying next to me.

I dressed, happy that whatever Crazy Craig had dosed me with and/or the effects of the time travel seemed to have worn off. I felt good...hungry as a horse, but otherwise, just fine. I stepped out of the tent into a veritable sea of people, dominant among them the four young people that had rescued me the night before...most amazingly of all, Mom.

She had changed clothes...or maybe added some would be the better word. She had on a multicolored and gauzy wraparound skirt, her full, long legs silhouetted whenever the sun peaked out from behind the rolling clouds overhead. She had on a man's blue chambray work shirt, tied up under her breasts, exposing her slightly round tummy and barely containing her large breasts. Her long braid had further deteriorated and helped give her the look of a wild woman as she stood there staring angrily at the short guy from last night.

"What the fuck you doing with him, Chloe? We don't even know who he is or where he came from, man!" he yelled at her. "You spent the whole fucking night holding him in our fucking tent!"

"What the hell is it to you, Grizz?" Mom snapped back. "What do we even know about you other than the fact Billy picked your hitch-hiking ass up on the turnpike?" She looked pissed...a lot like the time I got picked up for shoplifting at the Piggly Wiggly when I was a teenager. "And for your fucking information, you didn't bring the fucking tent, I did, so what makes it OUR fucking tent? You're presuming a hell of a lot about sharing the wealth when the only thing you've shared is couple of joints that are more oregano than maryjane and a case of B.O. that can't be fucking believed."

The guy sputtered, taking a step back under the heat of Mom's wrath. I almost felt sorry for him. Behind Mom, the slender blonde woman and the tall guy with the massive beard whispered into each other's ear and the guy chuckled, both amused at the sight of Mom taking no crap off the guy.

"Well...fuck, you know...you and me were getting it on so well. I figured that we were well you know..." he grinned, trying to be charmingly sheepish, but coming off a bit wolfishly.

Mom rolled her eyes and said, "Who the fuck do you think you are? You cop a few feels of my tits and you figure I'm your old lady?" She poked him in his hairy chest with her finger and said, "Nobody owns me, Grizz, so just piss off." She then flipped him the bird and stalked back towards me, the anger gone in an instant when she saw me standing there, replaced by a brilliant smile of a sort I never really saw on my mother's face before.

"Hey, man...you're awake," Mom exclaimed, all the vitriol in her voice replaced by something akin to motherly love, but more earthy and primal. "I didn't think you were ever waking up!" She hurried up to me, her breasts bouncing wildly under her shirt, threatening to break free of their tenuous bonds. She bounded into my arms and gave me a fierce hug. "Are you feeling better?" she said into my right ear, following her question with a brief kiss on my earlobe.

Maybe because my shock and amazement and yes, delight at having my arms full of a very young and luscious version of my mother, I never saw the fist fly by her smiling face and clip me just below the left eye, but despite my pain as I fell back, off balance, carrying Mom down with me I somehow made sure she landed harmlessly on top of me, I was suddenly aware enough of my surroundings to see a black cloud of anger filling Grizz's face, fists clenched as he towered over us. He started to reach down to yank Mom off me, but the tall, bearded guy was suddenly pushing him back and then he said something to Grizz in a low voice. Grizz's face turned pale and he spun around and hurried away, quickly lost in the ocean of people that moved around us.

In the meantime, Mom scrambled off my body, absently tucking a meaty breast back into her shirt with one hand and helping me up with the other. "Are you alright, baby?" she cooed, stroking my face and then kissing my burning cheek gently, her lips warm and sweet. When I nodded, she gently touched my cheek again and said, "Sorry about that asshole. That's gonna be a bitch of a bruise."

"Well, I expect ol' Grizz ain't riding back with us afterwards," the tall guy said in a lazy drawl as he turned around and walked up towards us, holding out his hand to the slender woman. "I'm Billy and this here is Daph. You already seem to know Chloe pretty well."

I felt my face blushing as I suddenly another sensory overload. I stammered, "I -- I'm John," as I tried to deal with the sudden realization that I knew these people or at least knew of them. Daph was Daphne Stevens...one of Mom's oldest friends. She'd been killed by a drunk driver in 1977 while crossing a street in downtown Philadelphia. I looked into her face, dirty, unwashed blonde hair in her eyes and saw the smiling and somewhat sad face of a woman from my childhood who would visit us from time to time. I remember thinking that her hair looked so pretty, cut short in that Dorothy Hamill style that was so popular in the late Seventies.

And Billy was...well, I had never met him, but I remembered Mom making a charcoal rubbing of the name William T. Stevens when we had visited the newly opened Vietnam War Memorial four years ago. Billy was killed in action in December of 1970.

I shook his hand and repeated, "I'm John, pleased to meet you."

Daphne came up and kissed me on the cheek and then spared Mom a knowing smile after saying, "Hi, John. Chloe here is going to be disappointed -- she's been calling you Angel."

Mom blushed and looked at me a little shyly. "Well...it did seem like you just fell out of the sky or rode that weird lightning bolt down to the ground."

I felt my skin burn under her interested gaze and tried not to grin like a fool as I said, "Sorry, no Angel here, uh, Chloe. Just plain John."

Mom smiled back and hooked her arm through mine, pressing her breast against me. "Well, I like the sound of John. I like it just fine."

We stood there and grinned at each other, our attention finally diverted by Billy who said as he gave his beard a good scratch, "Sorry 'bout the clothes, man, but that's the best I could do." He eyeballed my saggy shorts. "Man, you kinda look like my old man when he's grilling up burgers and telling me how my generation is flushing the good ol' USA right down the shitter."

We all laughed, me sobering up first as again an image of Mom running the charcoal over the parchment paper on the Wall flashed through my head. I had a sudden desire to scream at him, "Go to fucking Canada now before you lose your deferment!" but our attention was diverted as the entire crowd went nuts as Country Joe began leading the entire population in his notorious FISH cheer.

It was all I could do to keep my cool as I stood there with a young, beautiful and sexy version of my mother kinda-sorta rubbing up against me and listened to Country Joe sing an anti-war song with two people that were both dead before I was ten years old. I glanced at the sky and guessed it had to be early afternoon. Crazy Craig had told me I would be gone around six hours, but if my memory about the Woodstock concert was correct, I had already been here for at least twice that. I had to wonder how long I was staying or if there was even a chance I would be going back. While all this was banging around inside my mind, I had to try and get a grip on the moment and that wasn't easy.

As Country Joe left the stage and a band I had no recollection of began setting up, Mom asked me if I'd care to take a walk and we bid Billy and Daph goodbye and we began winding our way through the fields, my mind boggling at the size of the crowd. Yeah, I've seen the movie and watched the documentaries and heard Mom talk about the experience, but none of it can prepare you for the power and impact of maybe half a million people all generally blissing out in general good harmony and fellowship.

Mom found us a kitchen serving beans and rice and we refueled and kept going, grooving to the music and talking, seeing a free and easy side of my mother that I doubt I could have ever glimpsed otherwise. She tried asking me a few questions about myself, but I kept them vague, telling her I was from Tennessee but was currently a student at MIT. "You're not doing anything like weapon shit, are you, John," she said with a bit of heat in her voice.

"Naw, in truth, I hate the fucking place and I'm thinking of heading back to Tennessee." It sounded like truth as I said it and suddenly I realized that it was truth. I hated attending MIT.

"Yeah?" Mom seemed pleased by my answer and then gave me a playful wink and said, "You got a gal back down there waiting for you?"

I grinned back at her and said, "No...well, just Mom. There's never been...no, there isn't any girlfriend."

I blushed as Mom stopped us in the middle of the milling crowd and threw her arms around my neck. "I'm glad, John," she said with a mischievous grin. Then she stood up on her toes and kissed me, her tongue taking me by surprise and slipping between my lips. It was like a galvanizing shock ripped through me. I had French-kissed a few girls in my nearly twenty years, but none had ever felt like this. My already semi-erect cock stiffened and I felt my heart stop and start what felt like a dozen times as I was literally frozen in place.

My lack of response registered with Mom and she halted and looked up at me quizzically. "I'm sorry...did I read the signals all wrong, John? I thought we had something going on here...like a real spiritual link or something."

"Or something," I murmured, trying to recover my wits. I don't think I've ever been so turned on and every fiber of my body was telling to kiss her back, but this was my mother...even if I wasn't born yet, this was my mother. Then the really big realization crashed in on me. Mom met my father at Woodstock...they made love and conceived me here in the midst of all these people and the glorious music and his name had been John...

I grinned stupidly down at Mom and shrugged my shoulders. "Forgive me, Chloe," I managed to say. "I'm kinda slow with girls, but yeah, I think there's something going on too...like we're connected...like we've always been connected."

Mom seemed pleased by my words even though they sounded like utter bullshit to me. "Right on, then," she said, her hands slowly rubbing my shoulders. "Well, I'm kinda fast with the guys, so between us, maybe we'll find out we're going the same speed." She kissed me again, this one more chaste...more patient and then we continued to thread our way through the crowd, Mom telling me the story of her life...of going to college at Ohio University, working in the Free Clinic in Philadelphia for the last year as a nurse.

We spent what seemed like hours walking through the masses of people, yet we could have been alone in the universe -- like two young people walking through the deserted streets of a city in the wee hours of the morning, completely and totally into each other, absorbing each other through words, through looks and through touches -- holding hands, stroking arms or faces, sometimes pausing in the middle of the press of people to sway slowly together, dancing to the music that bound all us into a greater whole.

We made our way back to her tent, discovering that Billy and Daph were already there, making love loudly and passionately. We moved up the hill, finding a good seat above the tent. As Creedence Clearwater Revival dazzled the crowd, I sat behind my mother and combed the tangles out of her long, luxurious mane and then braided it into a neat French twist.

"Who taught you to braid hair like that," she said laughing as she inspected my work in the illumination of the stage lights, her face glowing and lovely.

I grinned and said truthfully, "My mom," I replied, recalling all the times I had since my youth, combed Mom's long hair out and then under her instruction, learned how to braid it. It had seemed so innocent when I was a kid, slowly becoming something akin to sexual as I got older, making me nervous and slightly embarrassed in my arousal to the point where I had gradually eased away from doing it. My arousal was evident now, I was sure...there was little doubt in my mind that Mom could feel my erection pressing into her back.

Then Janis took the stage and we were spellbound by her passion and energy as she put everything she was into her music...love, sadness, pain, joy, all of it wondrous to me, but bittersweet as well as I knew how little time she had left. Mom sat between my legs, leaning her head back into my chest, my arms around her as we listened to Janis wail her heart out for us.

Then Janis began "Summertime" that bluesy, sexy sweet song that was always one of Mom's favorites and I felt the energy and passion that was bound up in the song surround us, tightening and focusing the intensity of the moment. I suddenly realized that one of my hands had found its way inside Mom's blouse and was cupping her breast, the palm of my hand gently rubbing her swollen nipple. Upon realizing what I was doing, I tensed and started to remove my hand, but Mom dropped her hand onto mine atop her shirt and held me there, slowly leading my hand to keep up its circular motion on her breast. I could feel her heartbeat speeding up, matching my own.

The night was afire with possibility and love as the entire Woodstock population fell under Janis's spell and Mom ducked her head and kissed my wrist above her breast and then she was turning around, now on her knees between my legs and looking up into my eyes, her own ablaze with desire.

"John, make love to me, please. Make love to me right here and now."

"Mo...Chloe, I want to...I really, really want to, but I've...I never have..." I'm not sure what had me more panicked...the fact that a beautiful woman had asked me -- a virgin, to make love to her or the fact that she happened to be my mother...or would be in about nine more months.

Mom grinned lustily. "You're a virgin, John? Then I'll make love to you!" She rose up on her knees and kissed me again and this time I had no reservations -- my sudden desire for my mother sweeping away all doubts. Her tongue was greeted by mine and I heard her give a pleased purr as our tongues intertwined and as Janis's music surrounded us, we kissed passionately for what seemed a lifetime before Mom pushed me down on my back and moved to climb atop me.

"Don't worry, John. I'll be gentle," Mom said teasingly as she undid something on the side of her skirt, allowing it to fall away, revealing her pale, womanly thighs and a surprisingly thick thatch of black bush between her legs. As she straddled my waist and yanked the knot loose in her shirt, my eyes were torn between the entrancing wetness splitting her pussy hair and her large swinging breasts, sloping so beautifully on her chest.

Her hard nipples, the size of bottle caps dragged across my chest as she slid up my body, bringing her lips to mine and whispering, "Well, maybe not too gentle, baby," before kissing me again, her mouth, her lips, her tongue and her whole body setting me ablaze with lust unlike anything I'd ever felt before.

I sensed more than heard, murmurs of approval around us -- we were hardly the first at the festival to make love in public, but I'm sure we were quite the sight, Mom on top of me, her body squirming around, teasing my cock with gentle kisses of her wet pussy lips as my aching erection probed and prodded between her legs until finally, she reached down between us and took hold of my cock and placed in between her labia and then slowly as our tongues danced and twisted with each other, I felt this incredible hot wetness snuggling tightly around my cock, moving down as I moved up, taking more of me inside her...feeling so right...so perfect while Janis filled our ears with her loving, aching song until finally, I felt Mom come to a rest as her thick, hairy bush became entangled with mine.

Mom broke the kiss with a triumphant moan, rising up and lifting her hands to the sky in what seemed utter jubilation as she sat astride me, my cock buried inside her. She moved slightly, rolling her hips just so and looked down at me with such a perfect expression of love and happiness before she looked to the heavens, biting her lower lip as tears came rolling down her cheeks.

I thought something was wrong...that maybe I had done something and I rose up on my elbows and gasped through the pleasure, "Mo...Chloe, what is it? Did I do something wrong?" I shifted my weight to my left elbow and reached out plaintively with my right hand. "Chloe...are you okay?"

For a moment, Mom didn't move or say anything, just staring up into the cloudy night and then she was coming down, grinding her crotch against mine as her lips found mine and kissed me hungrily, sucking at my lower lip, at my tongue and kissing me again and again before finally whispering, "I've been waiting for you my whole life, John. Everything is fine...oh, more than fine -- everything is perfect." She kissed me again and said in almost a whimper, "You're perfect!"

"I love you," I gasped before I realized what I was saying...knowing it was true, that in many ways it had always been true, but now feeling so much for my mother beyond simply her being the woman who had...or would bear me. But even the geek that I was knew that you just don't start blurting stuff like that out.

Mom wiped tears from her eyes and smiled at me as she slowly begin to ride me, her pussy pulsating with the fierce life spirit that was my mother. "Yes, you do, don't you, John? I can hear it in your voice and the truth is..." Mom paused and shook her head in wonder. "I love you too. I've known that since the moment you crawled out of the mud puddle and I looked into your eyes." She kissed me again and punctuated it with a sultry lick of my lips. "You belong to me...we are of one blood, one heart, one soul, as surely if we were brother and sister...or mother and son."

My mother grinned at the naughty implications of that, but to hear her strike so close to the actual truth was too much for me. Before I knew what was happening, I was cumming, catching us both off guard. I tried to push her off me, but I felt her tighten her cunt muscles around my jerking cock as she spread out on top of me, holding me down as she rode out my climax, accepting willfully and happily my seed spewing into her womb.

Cumming inside my mother was incredible and intuitively I knew it was all the more wonderful for it actually being Mom instead of someone else. All the same, I was upset and embarrassed that it had happened so quickly, but Mom seemed unperturbed. As I tried to apologize for cumming so quickly, Mom kissed me until I stopped trying to talk and then said in a sultry voice, "John, this isn't the end." She licked my lips lasciviously as her pussy pulsated and massaged my cock and I realized that despite having an orgasm, I was remaining erect. "This is just the end of the beginning, sweet boy."

Slowly, Mom began slowly rolling her hips, sliding her clinging lips up and down my throbbing shaft, my semen mixing with her hot juices to lubricate our married loins while we kissed, her breath whistling almost hypnotically and blowing warm on my face as she rode me towards her own orgasm. I was aware that Mom was only twenty-two, but she moved with a knowledge and confidence that I imagined few twenty- two year old women in my time possessed.

She broke the kiss with a gasping, "Oh," and looked down into my eyes with an expression of wonder and maybe fear as we both realized her own orgasm was approaching. I'm not sure if it was totally her idea or if I had a hand in it, but we both groaned with pleasure as we suddenly rolled over and now I was on top and I felt her legs draw up against my thighs, the heels of her mud splattered feet kicking against my ass cheeks as she said, "Fuck me, John. Fuck me with that magic dick, man." Tears were again pooling in her eyes and then running down her cheeks. "Oh, John, it never felt like this before...never. Fuck me, John! Love me and really, really fuck me!"​