Midsummer's Nights

Reina and her son, Hugo, travel to Picos de Europa for hiking together.

Friends, it is a two part story, with incest (Mother-Son) as a theme.

Hope you like the story.

enjoy

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Having packed the Range Rover with all the supplies that would last us about a week if need be, I signaled towards Mama and waved that I was ready. Even though we were going for five days, or four nights, to be precise, packing up for a couple of days extra made sense, just in case there were any emergencies.

Having grown up in Gijón, I have seen the Asturias Day parade every year to a level that I have gotten tired of. Same for my parents as well. There are two reasons. First, the parade passes right in front of our home on the street abutting

Paseo del Muro de San Lorenzo.

It was not just the twenty-thirty minutes it took for the parade to pass through, but for the entire day, the zone became a madhouse with tourists from all over the country and Europe. For a family that went out of the way to stay private, this becomes a major headache. Over the years, the excitement of the parade that I had as a young fellow, had waned but to tourists and many Gijónians, the parade is a much-awaited affair of the year. For the last couple of years, we made it a point to take a break around the day of the parade and flee Gijón - always making sure to return before the Great Week. The second reason was that each year one or the other relative - from somewhere in Spain - would want to come visit and see the parade, and it was difficult to say no to them, especially those with a young, enthusiastic child who cared for the parade.

Asturias Day parade itself is always on the first Sunday of August, generally the peak of summer for Gijón, and hence most of us colloquially call it the Midsummer's Day parade. The parade has been an annual affair for a couple of hundred years, though it has grown in scale, and to the best of my knowledge, it has gone on without any break - maybe with exceptions of war and the previous year due to Covid. So in 2021, the parade was much anticipated, and the preparations were heavy with all the pandemic protocols but no less fanfare.

The trekking trip we had planned was for the three of us, but Dad had to back out because that year his mother had decided at the last minute to come stay with us. Mama and I decided we didn't want to miss the weather and the hike. Dad sacrificed his plan, but pushed both of us to go, as he held back in Gijón with his mother who came in from Santander.

29 July 2021

"Goodbye, grandma" I hugged my grandmother because I assumed she'd be gone by the time we returned.

"Mama, let's go." I urged Mama as she said her goodbyes to Dad and his mother.

"Bye, Reina...Bye, Hugo," echoed Dad waving towards us, followed it up with, "Drive safe, and call me when you have reached"

We left Gijón just after 7AM. The bulk of the distance was on the Autopista along the coast. We went nonstop until I took an exit towards Posada.

"Mama, would you like to take a small break for coffee or something?" I asked her, having been on the road for over an hour.

She nodded, "Let's stop at a área de servicio. I want to use the restroom." Another kilometer ahead, I turned the rangerover into a service area. The dashboard clock said the time was half past eight. We were doing good, time-wise, but the road ahead was going to be sharper. We had left the Autopista, and for the next hour, we'd do the Autovia until Poncebos.

Mama got her coffee in the takeaway and picked up two bottles of wine and some snacks. I decided to avoid coffee and picked a cola instead.

I drove even slower than the road would allow until Mama had finished the coffee. We were in Ponecbos in another half an hour, and from there, we would go off-road for a kilometer and a half.

The Range Rover rumbled along the winding dirt road, each bump and sway jerked us vigourously. I stole glances at her profile, the soft glow of the sun catching in the strands of hair that had escaped her loose bun. Blood rushed to her face as she turned pinker and prettier than usual. Mama was barely forty five but looked much younger.

That I loved my Mama was a given, but it was the way that I loved her was unnatural. I worshiped the floor she walked on, my Mama was the most beautiful woman I knew. She was stronger than any woman I knew, she was also the most kinder. With her soft-spoken voice, she showed the world how a warm, loving person can also be strong with self-confidence, fortitude and grit.

Ever since I had turned twenty, I was under the impression that I was in love with this woman. No doubt I loved her for who she was, my Mama, but I fell in love when I, by mistake, walked in on her when she was naked. She was asleep and possibly unaware of anyone entering the house. Callously, I entered her room without knocking, not usual for me, and saw her lying naked on her bed. It seemed to me she was half-asleep. An enigmatic smile on her face, no layer of clothing or sheet on her. One of her arms on the bedspread sideways and the other loosely on her tummy, inches above her pubes.

What an image. She did not notice me coming in, nor was I able to utter a word when I noticed her state of undress. I stood there like a slab of stone, with only my eyes scanning every inch of her body. I did not breathe, or possibly I could not breathe, lest I make a noise that would wake her up.

I admired every inch, every curve, every mold on her body and captured that image in my mind forever and ever. A slight move of her hand shook me from reverie, and I backed out of the room as silently as possible. For the last two years, I have been reliving that fortuitous day every night with my dick in my hand.

"Watch Out, Hugo," Mama shouted. I was alerted to a stray mountain goat. I had sufficient space between the car and the animal, but Mama seemed to be aware I had zoned out, alerting me well in time.

"Sorry, Mama," I apologized, also reprimanding myself.

The farm emerged from the trees like a forgotten memory, its weathered wood blending seamlessly with the surrounding forest.  We entered our estate. I parked the car just inside the gate.

Mama stretched beautifully and soaked in the sun as I took the phone out and messaged Dad that we had reached. She took her small bag and purse, and I started to unload the provisions and finished unloading in two rounds.

We called it an estate, but it was more like a farm, located just south of Poncebos, uphill towards the

Ruta del Cares.

We had bought this farm a few years earlier from a local farmer and had maintained the farm, having rented it to the original farmer. In exchange for the rent, he maintained the cabin for us, kept the estate clean, and mended the fence around the farm whenever needed, mainly because a wild animal would try to make its way in.

While we often had family friends come and stay at our home in Gijón, we rarely invited anyone to the estate, keeping it a private escape just for our family. We had a good time hiking, trekking, and relaxing. The farm had three large rooms and a sizable sitting section besides a kitchen. Another barn-like of small outhouse for storing supplies, most of it for the farm. The rest of the land was planted with some or the other vegetables.

On the first day, we usually never went for a trek. We used the arrival day to settle in. We would relax, set up our kitchen and supplies, and mostly relax before going for an early morning hike the next day. This time was not going to be any different.

Mama walked around the house tidying small knick-knacks, setting it all up just as she liked it, and I took a tour around the farm, checking the perimeter. Manuel, the farmer, knew of our arrival and after handing over the keys, walked back towards Poncebos.

By the time I returned, Mama had opened our lunch and set it up on the table in case I wanted to eat. She had gone for a shower. Two of the three rooms had bathrooms. My parents used the room that had the bathroom with a metal tub - an old-style bathtub with no tap or plumbing. You would have to fill it up with buckets. To the best of my recollection, none of us had ever used it though. The shower section in my bathroom was supreme though. With an open-air wooden enclosure of sorts. The taps were great, but they had no hot water.

Mama came back after her shower with a towel around her hair and a chequered shirt which she had tied a knot around her slim waist and she wore a hotpants below it, leaving her legs bare for me to appreciate.

I looked at her in admiration, and she smiled back. "You didn't start?" she asked.

"No, mama, I was waiting for you," I replied happily.

We ate as we discussed general stuff, happy to be out of Gijón for the next few days. From the pleasant weather to the farmer, from the vegetables growing at the time to the broken lamp on the patio, and so on.

At times, I wondered if Mama was somehow aware of my infatuation. Was she aware of my forbidden love for her? It never scared me, but deep down, I felt she sensed my feelings towards her. After all, she was my madre, and she always knew what I wanted, right from my childhood, much before I could spell it out.

I relished the layer of forbidden sweetness in our connection, though nothing out of the ordinary had ever played out between us. On the other hand, for the very first time, over the last many visits to the estate, we had come alone. It was just Mama and me.

We spent the evening at the patio. The air was crisp and carried the scent of pine and damp earth. A profound sense of peace settled over us, the silence broken only by the chirping of unseen birds. The cabin had a comforting scent of aged wood.

Mama left me at the patio and went in to make supper for the both of us. I read a little in the calm of the evening. An hour later, we ate at the table and aimed to settle in early because we had to get up for an early morning hike.

As dusk bled into night, the forest around the cabin seemed to awaken. The wind whispered secrets through the trees, and the distant hoot of an owl echoed through the stillness. We sat in the living room, sharing stories and comfortable silences, the light bulb casting dancing shadows on our faces. A sense of intimacy deepened with the fading light, a quiet anticipation hanging in the air.

"Good night, Hugo," Mama said, asking me to go to sleep.

"Good night, Mama," I replied and got up.

We settled into our separate rooms, a comfortable familiarity woven into a place we had been around multiple times. In my room, even after about an hour of settling in, I was still tossing and turning in my bed, unable to sleep. A tinge of anxiety did not let me sleep. I shucked my t-shirt and kicked around my sheet, nestled into my pillow.

There was dead silence all around. All I could hear was a slow whistle of the wind traveling through odd crevices around the cabin. We had grown used to this over the years.

Then, in the dead of night, a sharp, unsettling sound shattered the tranquility. A frantic rustling just outside the cabin's walls, followed by a low growl that sent shivers down my spine. Fear, primal and immediate, gripped me. Mama must have heard it too. The isolation that had felt so comforting moments before now felt menacing.

Mama was the first to react. Mama came from Basque country, having spent her childhood in suburban Bilbao. Her eyes, usually filled with a gentle warmth, now held a determined glint. She tiptoed towards my room and checked on me. I was up and looking towards her as she entered. Her flowing robe, very light on her shoulders, created an image of cape. I realized it was open from the front or was so loose that it seemed open to me from the dark of my room. We could barely see each other in outlines.

"Stay here, Hugo," she whispered; her voice firm despite the slight tremble.

She carefully moved on her toes towards the living room and reached for the flashlight that we usually hung next to the main room's light switch. She moved her hands without looking specifically at the objects, as she scanned the doors and windows. She got hold of the flashlight but didn't switch it on.

She swiftly moved toward the cabinet at the far end of the room and unlatched it. She reached for the shotgun leaning against the back of the cabinet. With decisive movement, she picked it up, holding it with a familiarity that surprised even herself. Moving with a quiet resolve, she crept towards the door, her senses on high alert. Near the main door, she flicked the flashlight on. The beam cut through the darkness of the section of the room near the main door and far into the outer farmland. She balanced the shotgun under her armpit with her finger on the trigger and the flashlight in her left hand. The weight of the shotgun gave her a stark reassurance that she was covered as she softly opened the front door to look outside.

She stood one step out on the patio without making any noise and scanned the flashlight around to check. She found nothing but she waited for a couple of minutes longer, a little more alert with her hand gripping the shotgun firmly.

I waited in my room, my heart pounding in my chest. I listened intently as she moved around the cabin, checking the windows and doors, the beam of her flashlight dancing across the darkness outside. After what felt like an eternity, she returned, her brow furrowed, the shotgun held securely in her hands. "I didn't see anything specific," she said softly, "but I definitely heard something... something big."

She went back to the main living room and made another round before returning to my room. She settled the shotgun leaning against the wall near my bed and sat on the bed, with her back towards me, thinking for a very brief moment.

Then Mama switched the flashlight off, pulled the cover, and came next to me.

"I think we should stick together for the night, just in case...", Mama said, announcing that she'll be sleeping in the same bed with me that night. Both of us silently stared towards the ceiling alert towards any noises that would catch our attention, but there was no other disturbance around. After many long minutes, we started to relax and assumed we were safe.

Just as our heartbeats returned to normal, I turned towards her and said, "Mama, you shouldn't have gone out, you know."

Mama turned towards me and smiled, "We are alright. That's what's important." She opened her arms for me, and I moved in towards her.

As we embraced, my head burrowed in her chest, and I soaked in her soft body perfume, possibly a lotion she had applied before getting into bed earlier. The supple mound of her breast comforted my right cheek as I nuzzled in her chest. Mama wrapped her arms around my neck and my back to pull me in, and in the process, I leaned in lower towards her cleavage.

To hug her, my left hand moved behind her and got wrangled into her nightie. Instead of going above it, I eventually got my hand inside her nightie. For a brief moment, I froze, but her warm, soft flesh invitingly coaxed me to move ahead, and move ahead I did. My palm coarsed the path on her waist until I was behind her back. That her waist was bare and my hand inside her nightie sent shockwaves through my body.

My hand in its endeavour to move behind her back had tugged some of her nightie off from her front, loosening her tie from the front a bit. I realized this only when I felt no fabric around my face. My cheeks and my nose were enveloped in the warm pillowy flesh of her breasts. My mouth was embedded in her cleavage, I could feel her ribs with my lips.

I was scared to death even more than I was when there was a dangerous animal next to the cabin's walls. My palm on her back and my face in her chest were frozen. My legs were oddly tense as well, trying to avoid contact with her. Just as I was conflicted with what I should do, Mama was slowly patting my head. She caressed me slowly, calming me.

The state of numb excitement that I felt must have been overwhelming for me because I cannot remember what happened after that. I must have dozed off.

On the other hand, what I do remember is waking up in the middle of the night. The state of our entanglement had only improved. My face was still burrowed into Mama's chest but my leg had gone high up between hers and the top of my thigh was grounding her panty-covered pussy. My left hand, which I had left on her bare back before going into a deep sleep, had traveled down and was cupping her buttock, pushing her butt firmly into my groin.

Thank god, my dick wasn't erect - at least not at that point. I must have stirred a little because it made Mama's hands behind my neck and shoulders active again, petting and caressing me, even though she seemed to be sleeping.

Alert to the situation, I took stock of what all I had in my hand, and then I expanded what all I could have.

After I had moved a little, Mama started caressing my head. I flexed my left hand on her butt a little to reconfirm that it was indeed her butt. As an impulse Mama stroked my head a bit more, assuming I was moving in my sleep. I stayed still and let Mama's hand come to a rest. Then I did it again, only to have the same response from her. And I did it after every thirty seconds getting the same response, and then I reduced the frequency to fifteen seconds, squeezing her butt in my hand, and Mama caressed the back of my head each of those times. From then on, with each squeeze of the butt, her pussy got a grind from the top of my thigh as well, and Mama kept complying with her caress on my head.

I changed tack and tried to pull my head out of her chest, which drew a natural reaction from her pulling me back into her. I timed the pullback of my head in line with the butt squeeze and pussy grind and Mama impulsively pulled me back into her chest. I had turned my head in the process and voila, I was reinstalled into her chest, only a few inches to the left. My lips on the soft fleshy right boob were inches away from her nipple. I almost felt it but I dared not open my eyes, lest the movement of my eyelids give away my shenanigans.

I spent the next thirty seconds making the courageous maneuver once more. Butt squeeze, pussy grind, and head pull. The same result, Mama pulled me back. With a determined head turn a fraction of a second before her pull - and with some help of gravity - her nipple was lined perfectly for a clampdown. That's what I did. Lips to Nipple. I intentionally did not open my lips so as to not give away my moves.

I was in heaven, and I made the next move most sensibly, or so I thought.

Butt squeeze, and pussy grind continued with fifteen-second intervals. Mama's hand stayed behind my head, merely stroking my head but not pulling me in. With each squeeze and grind, I opened my lips a centimeter. Some seven or eight rounds later, my lips were open wide enough around her nipple.

From that point on our symphony had expanded. Butt squeeze, Pussy ground, Nipple suck, Head stroke.

If my plan was to do this until the end of time, then it was a failed plan. Naturally, my lust-ridden body was responding to the situation. My dick was hard as a rock and was nudging Mama somewhere on her thighs. Also, involuntarily, I had started to suck her nipple heavily, not really caring if she'd wake up.

More importantly, I had no idea the impact all my maneuvering was having on Mama.

Somewhere in the symphony she also had started to feel the heat. Not only had she woken up, but she was contemplating what was happening and which one of us was doing what. She realized her hand behind my head was pulling me on her nipple with intent, just as her fingers were combing through my hair. Her pussy was doing the downward grind on my thigh and meeting it with purpose and she had already wet the top of my thigh.