My Quieted Soul

“But I have calmed and quieted my soul, like a child quieted at its mother’s breast.”

He sat opposite gazing at me with what I can only describe as a look of adoration. When he had first looked at me like that as I breast fed little Alice I had felt embarrassed. Now I had grown accustomed to his attention and even looked forward to it, hoping he would be there as I fed the baby.

Harry, my husband was not at all keen to watch me breast feeding. I think he found it rather distasteful, or perhaps it was that he thought it would spoil my breasts and diminish his pleasure in them; not that he took much pleasure in them those days. With Dana my son, it was very different.

An explanation I think is in order.

I had given birth to Dana when I was just seventeen. He was the result of a high school romp with Harry. There was a genuine love between Harry and me then, and eventually we had married.

We decided on a second child, but year after year nothing happened. Tests showed there was no reason why I should not get pregnant again, but after years of trying we had put the idea of a second child out of our minds.

With the diminishing of our hopes for second child Harry seemed to grow very casual about sex with me. It became an occasional event, but then totally unexpectedly it happened. I was pregnant at thirty nine.

It was strange having a nineteen year old son and a baby on the way; like having a second family.

Harry was somewhat ambivalent about my pregnancy. He never actually said anything direct, but I got the impression he saw the coming child as an interference with his life style. I suppose it was understandable since as he saw it, he was soon to get his son off his financial hands, and would be able to divert money into his other interests, the main one being fishing.

At the time I am writing about we were staying at our seaside shack. Harry had received an invitation from a local professional lobster fisherman to go with him in his boat to some lobster grounds. The thought of a trip in a big boat instead of his own small fishing craft instantly appealed to Harry.

The grounds were off an island at some distance from the main coastline, and in his casual way Harry had announced, “Anna, I’ll be gone for two or three days, love, okay?”

I felt a bit hurt he could so easily leave me with a three month old baby, but as I’d often thought on other occasions when he treated me so casually, “Oh well, that’s Harry.”

The days after the lobster boat had left Dana, the baby and I spent some of the morning on the beach. It was a hot day and I stayed with Alice under the shelter of a beach umbrella while Dana occasionally dashed into the surf for a swim. I felt somewhat envious as I enjoyed swimming myself, but still did not feel ready to take the plunge again.

Late in the morning we wandered back to the shack for lunch, and then it was time for Alice’s lunch.

That was when Dana sat gazing at me in that quiet, strange way he had when I was breast feeding.

Dana is a rather reserved and sensitive young man. As Harry had often said of him, “He’s just like you, Sarah; you never know what he’s thinking. He’s a deep one.”

I suppose that is true. Dana and I never reveal a great deal of our thoughts, whereas Harry always blurts things out, often hurtful things.

Perhaps it was our reticence that was the foundation of the bond between Dana and me. When he was a small boy, if ever he was going to reveal any of his little secrets, it was to me he confided them. Perhaps even then he knew that I would never reveal them to anyone else.

As he grew older people began to speak of him as a “brilliant child.” It was not the sort of brilliance Harry really appreciated because it revealed itself in Dana’s piano playing; not Harry’s thing at all. However, he was not above basking in the plaudits that came Dana’s way.

Dana had graduated from high school at seventeen and entered the University Conservatorium of Music. Again there was talk of a “brilliant future,” “outstanding ability,” and so on.

Harry had baulked the time we were told that Dana needed a really good piano to practice on and he heard how much it would cost. Never the less, the piano was purchased. There was even one in the shack, although nothing like the quality of the one in our suburban home.

Dana’s life seemed to focus almost exclusively on his piano playing. Where other boys had been off having what they called a “good time,” Dana would be practicing. His peers engaged in much sexual activity, but I was not sure whether Dana had ever copulated with a girl. If he had, it was one of the secrets he kept even from me.

With Alice at my breast I was actually enjoying Dana’s adoring contemplation. He had watched me many times, but neither of us had made any comment about it. Now I felt prompted to say something.

“You like watching me breast feed Alice, don’t you, darling?”

For a moment he raised his eyes to look into mine and said, “It’s one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen; it reminds me of those pictures of Madonna and Child.”

I think I blushed a little and said, “That’s a lovely thing to say, darling.”

He smiled but said nothing.

Alice did not seem very hungry so I stopped feeding her and took her to the bedroom for her afternoon sleep. Foolishly I had fed her using only one breast, and as I had been producing milk rather copiously I found the other breast very heavy laden and uncomfortable. I decided to express some of the milk to give myself some relief.

I went into the kitchen to carry out the procedure at the sink. I began to gently express the milk with my hand and as I did this I heard Dana come up behind me.

As well as watching me breast feed, he had seen me do this before; it seemed to fascinate him. This time, however, he did something he had never done before. As I discharge the milk he reached over with his finger tips and took some of it from my nipple.

I watched spellbound as he raised his fingers to his lips and tasted the milk. I felt a little shivering thrill spear through me. I had read somewhere of husbands who tasted their wife’s breast milk, but that was certainly not likely to be my husband. But my son…?

Looking at me intently he said, “Let me, mother.”

I thought he meant he wanted to use his hand to express the milk for me and a nodded in dumbfound amazement. He did not use his hand on me, but suddenly swept me off my feet and carried me to the lounge and lay me on the couch.

“Darling what are…?”

I was going to ask him what he was doing, but the answer came soon enough. He leaned over me and took the nipple of my overflowing breast into his mouth and began to suck.

My first reaction was to push him away, but then a wave of infinite tenderness came over me. For a moment it was as if he were a little boy again drawing nourishment from me, but the next moment that illusion passed. This was a grown man, my son, taking in my milk, and I wanted him to do it; I wanted him at my breast; I wanted to give to him.

I put my hand on his hair and began to slowly caress him. I wanted to speak but couldn’t find the words for a while, and then when I could speak I could only moan, “Oh my love…my love…what are you doing to me?”

The question was purely rhetorical because I knew quite well what he was doing to me. I could feel the moistness growing at the top of my thighs and waves of longing overwhelming me. It was as if something from deep within me welled up to possess me; something that had always been there, unacknowledged; a hunger that had never been satisfied.

He ceased sucking my nipple and looked into my eyes as if he would read my soul.

“You know I adore you, don’t you, mother.”

Yes, I knew. I had seen it often as he looked at me – not only during breast feeding, but even as a small boy. There had been that slightly disconcerting look of devotion.

I answered him whispering, “Yes, I know, my darling.”

As I look back now I think what happened next seems like a dream; a wonderful, beautiful and very tender dream.

Because of the heat of the day and for convenience when it came to feeding Alice, I was wearing only a shirt and panties. The shirt was already open and Dana slowly removed my panties. He was so gentle and reverential in this action, as if he was opening the door to some holy place.

I knew what he would do to me and I made no protest; I wanted him…wanted him as I had never wanted anything in my life before. I lay back and opened my legs to receive him, and as he removed his shorts I caught a glimpse of his lovely manhood, its crown shining with pre-ejaculation fluid.

He came over me and I guided his shaft into me.

It was a coupling the like of which I had never known before. It seemed all tenderness and love. As Dana moved slowly in me he kissed me with inexpressible warmth breaking away only to say, “I love you mother…I love you…”

If our union lacked hurry and noise, it had a quality that surpassed all that raw lust could offer. Dana had said he adored me, I could feel it in this act of sexual union. It had a worshipful quality that engulfed us both; we were engaged in a sacred union of love.

Even our orgasms were quiet. I felt Dana intensify his movements and I knew he was about to ejaculate into me, and odd though it may seem, I noticed that he did not close his eyes during ejaculation as Harry did, but looked intently into mine. I let my own orgasm flood me as he said very softly, “Oh mother.”

I felt the first discharge of his semen into me and as I climaxed, matching his own quietness, I moaned, “Oh, my love, my darling son.”

We were one…joined to become one body and soul. I possessed him in the profoundest love I had ever known. He was as surely mine as much as he had been when I carried him in my womb.

He finished ejaculating before my orgasm was over but he stayed with me, and as if echoing my own thoughts he whispered, “I want all of you….I want you always…you’re never to leave me.”

I was at peace in a way I had never been before. The adulterous and incestuous nature of our deed did not touch me. What had happened had been right. I felt that there was nothing more lovely and loving than a mother and son expressing their love sexually.

From now on, however difficult it would be, it would continue. Of that I was certain and determined.

That night Dana shared my bed and we also shared each other’s bodies. Another strange phenomenon came to my attention. Even when we were not united at the genitals we lay facing each other in the dim light of the bedside lamp, looking deep into each other’s eyes.

It had all been so subdued. There had not been the towering passion of frustrated lust, but the sweet union of that which had been for a while separated, but had now found its true soul mate.

I did not need to be told of his love, and he needed no expression in words of my love; it was a given between us. As we smelt and tasted each other that night we knew there could be no barrier between us. We exchanged sexual fluids as if this was the most commonplace act between lovers, and I pitied those who had not experienced or allowed this profound mother and son love.

He stayed with me, his penis in my vagina, as if it were the place where he belonged, as indeed it was. We were lovers in the true sense of that word.

Soon Harry would return, the one who had implanted Dana and Alice in me, but in truth his place in my vagina was over. I would surrender my body to him, but from now on, it belonged to Dana.

As we lay, enfolded in each other arms, his penis still in my vagina, I said those cruel words to him, “I must give your father what he wants.”

“I know,” he replied, “but in truth you belong to me, and I to you. The day will come when you will be wholly mine.”

Harry came back from his fishing trip, and in his usual manner fucked me with noisy lust, and I had to fantasise Dana, and was anxious lest he heard what Harry and I were doing.

In the morning I looked apprehensively at Dana. Had he heard my coupling with Harry, had he been hurt…repelled? He showed no signs of these things.

After Harry went off in his own fishing boat Dana suckled my breast again, drinking my milk. I had to jokingly admonish him, “Leave some for Alice.” Fortunately there was plenty for both of them.

We loved the day away; our genitals were constantly locked together our bond growing ever more powerful.

Almost from the start of our sexual bonding Dana began to glow with health; our sexual couplings grew more not less; I noticed how even in his piano practise his playing became more sensitive. I have often wondered since if it was the nourishment he took at my breast, or the freedom of our sexual unions that brought this about.

When I became pregnant again we were both certain. Dana said, “The child is ours, isn’t it?” Of course, there was no way to be finally certain, but since Harry, wanting no more offspring, used a condom on the few occasions he bothered to copulate with me, I was certain as I could be that Dana had impregnated me.

Harry was angry when I told him of my pregnancy, and in his usual hurtful way said, “Bloody hell, woman, you go for years without getting pregnant, and now you’re breeding like a bloody rabbit.”

I gave birth to a boy, Alexander, and in the years that followed Harry, I was glad to say, became less and less interested in sex with me. On the other hand, Dana and I never seemed to be able to get enough of each other.

Dana’s career as a concert pianist advanced to the stage where he began to undertake international tours. We had always managed to hide our sexual life from Harry, and when I said to him, “I think I should go on tour with Dana to look after him,” he readily agreed, especially as I said I would take the children with me.

There were all sorts of complications over the children’s education, but this was finally resolved when, because Dana was by then enjoying large fees for his concerts, we were able to afford a Nurse/Teacher to travel with us.

Of course, my breast milk had long dried up, but somehow Dana always remained healthy and buoyant despite the gruelling nature of concert touring. Perhaps after all it was the deep contentment we had sexually that was the key factor.

Our returns home are now very infrequent and Harry seems to have reinvented himself. He has never actually said anything about it, but I get the strong impression he has found himself a lady friend who enjoys fishing…and no doubt other things.

I have my quieted soul and it is a soul shared with Dana.