All characters in the story are above 18, readers must also be above 18.
This is a story of an Australian family Samantha, Alan, their son Mickie, and Rose (Alan's mother).
The story has an underlying Incest theme.
I hope you all like it. enjoy ...
————
I was born in an academic family, and I grew up mostly in Sydney. Both my parents were scholars and professors.
As a single child, I was lonely most of the time, apart from the time when my Mom took me to her home in Darwin, North Territory, where she was originally from. I would frequent every other summer to Darwin and came to like my cousins and also became pals with their friends. Even though only a couple of them were of my age, I liked Darwin much better than a big town like Sydney.
When I was nineteen, I met my future husband here in Darwin and also lost my virginity to him at his home, in his room. I kind of liked the idyllic setting of Alan's home. He lived alone with his Mom, in a very large house with about ten rooms. His dad had left him a stud farm, and it was clear Alan was not cut out for the job. His mother, Rose, on the other hand, was a natural studmaster.
Alan managed the business side and handled the auctions, books, and such. I wasn't aware of his role at the time, and I got entranced by the overall feel of him being this macho rancher and stud owner. He, too, led me on. I visited their stud farm a couple of times, where Alan took me on a tour. I was impressed with his knowledge and how he conducted himself, very mild-mannered while managing a roughshod business.
I also met Rose, a beautiful woman with a depth of knowledge in breeding horses. Alan had taken after her in looks clearly. I wondered how his father was like, but I never could meet him. His father had passed years earlier.
Less than three years later, we were married. The marriage was in St. George's in Darwin, and we had a fantastic reception where a couple of hundred guests had a wonderful time.
I shifted into Alan's large family home in Howard Springs, a suburb of Darwin, neighboring their huge stud farm. The farm housed some fifty workers, mostly farmhands.
It did not take me long to realize that Alan wasn't running the show; his mother, Rose, was. I was momentarily disappointed but came to like Rose, who loved me like her daughter. In many ways, she spoilt me aplenty and helped me settle in. She got me engaged in the stud farm operations and took me under her wing, realizing my interest.
Alan and I spent a lot of time fucking every day for the first few months. In time we both outgrew our almost adolescent hunger for sex and had a steady relationship of mutual respect and conjugal obligation.
As we did more and more work together, Rose and I developed a stronger bond. I liked her very much. Our son, Michael, was born a year and a half into our marriage and Rose was there for me all the way. In many ways, beyond what a mother-in-law would, she helped me back on my feet. We fondly called our son, Mickie.
My respect for Rose grew even more when she let her stud farm duties suffer when Mickie was growing up. Mickie took after his father and his grandmother in looks and his demeanor.
While raising Mickie, I would often be breastfeeding him in the main sitting room with a bare breast even while Rose or Alan were going about their routine. Having stayed with Rose, I had come to realize that she was a very liberal kind of woman in terms of sexuality, nudity, and open discussions.
Having discussed that we wanted a small family and that Mickie was enough for us, Alan got his tubes tied and got a vasectomy done when Mickie turned two.
When Michael turned eighteen and shifted to Carins for his university degree, I shifted to Rose's room to take care of her. She had been regularly ill and had developed lung cancer.
Rose chose to not go for chemo or any other medication that would have probably given her a couple of more years. Night after night, I held Rose in my arms and soothed her to sleep, hugging her and calming her.
What we had thought would be her last couple of months, turned into a few months and then into a year.
Each night, I'd hold her in my arms, caressing her head, her shoulders, her face, and her arms, to help her sleep. Often I'd kiss her forehead and on many occasions, her cheeks.
Out of compassion and my love for her, in time I grew intimate with Rose and would often kiss her many times on her lips in follow-through of soothing her and caring for her. Rose received my love well and kissed me back passionately, in appreciation and in her love for me.
Her cancer paused after a year and went into a surprise remission. Exactly one year later from diagnosis, where we were told she would last no more than a couple of months without treatment, she was hale and hearty, though at not her best.
We all partied and celebrated Rose's remission, but I never moved out of her bedroom. We still loved each other, and I had gotten used to her in my arms. After many years with Alan, I had never felt this kind of intimacy, and I did not want to lose it.
Rose battled her cancer for another year, and when her cancer hit back, it was sudden and instant. It broke me and Alan badly when Rose was taken from us. Mickie met her for only a few days before she was gone.
A few months later, Mickie returned after his graduation and almost immediately took charge of things on the stud farm. More so when he saw Alan and me struggling. He was very comfortable around the staff, the work, the horses, and the breeders.
Rose, before passing, had written some detailed letters to each one of us. Given by what she had written to me and about me, and the kind person that she was, I could easily guess that her letters to Alan and Mickie were equally heartfelt and tender.
It took us another year to come back, but Alan and I slowly got back into the grind, even though we did half of what we earlier used to because Mickie was clearly in charge.
What had gone unnoticed to me even after a year of Mickie having come back, was the perpetual attention he gave me. We have been a close family, so it wasn't my fault that I overlooked this detail.
Another thing in our house was our comfort around privacy. We usually did not sleep with our bedroom doors locked, neither did we bolt the bathroom doors while taking a bath or a piss. It was not that we would barge into each other's bedroom, or walked in on others having bath or pissing, but it was just that there was this leniency around each other, that we would not balk if someone unintentionally walked in.
After Rose passed away, I shifted back to our bedroom, but we kept Rose's bedroom as is. All around our home we had many family pictures, a major lot had Rose in them. She was forever part of our daily lives. We buried Rose on the farm, in the family burial plot.
Upon Mickie's insistence, Alan and I took a short vacation to Sydney, where we met my retired parents. After a couple of days with them, we stayed around Bondi for a few days before coming back fresh to take on work at the stud farm. Slowly the routine got established again. Both Alan and I doted on Mickie and gave him enough leeway to handle the stud farm the way he wanted. Thankfully Mickie had a good business acumen and an amenable personality around the staff. Results were there to corroborate this.
On a personal front, the fact that Alan and I were married made little consequence to the other fact that our sex life was deteriorating. It would be fair to say we hadn't had sex for over a year if we did not count the two instances in Bondi.
Off and on, if I got horny, I ended up sleeping frustrated. When Rose was around, my proximity to her in bed, in her last year, often got me worked up. Somewhere down the line, we even found a way to satisfy the urges. The time with Rose, also brought out within me love for a woman, mostly because I already loved her enough and respected her plenty.
Ever since we returned from our vacation, and it had been four weeks, I was unusually horny and hot. I had wet dreams as if I was being sucked diligently and fiercely, but without a climax. I often ended waking up hot and bothered. The dreams themselves were so vivid, it seemed as if my pussy was getting a fine licking.
Alan wasn't much into sucking my pussy, and neither did he expect me to suck his dick. On the other hand, Rose did suck me often, as I did her. With the latest bout of dreams, I started to believe maybe I was missing Rose more than I thought I did. Or maybe, it was my body that was missing the love Rose had provided.
