The Island

Prologue.

As my climax faded I felt the last surge of his semen. The storm that had raged outside had passed over, and the moonlight filtered in through the windows, casting a blue light with deep shadows. He stayed with me as the last quivers of my orgasm passed away leaving me on an island of serenity.

He withdrew from me and for a moment the tranquillity was marred as I wondered if there would be revulsion, a reaction against what we had done. He touched my breast, gently cupping it with his hand and said, “That was beautiful.”

Chapter 1.To the Island.

“It may be the last time we shall be together on holiday, Michael,” I had said. “David’s going to be overseas for a year and when he comes back he’ll be changed; he probably won’t want to be with us, he’ll have a life of his own.”

“All right Rhea, have it your own way, but you know damned well I’ve got a court case coming up and I wont be able to be with you for the whole time.”

“I know, but you can be with us for some of the time.”

Michael’s irritability passed; he grinned at me; “Okay, let’s do it. I suppose you’re right, it may well be the last time we’ll all be together.”

So we went to our island house; the place we had built when Michael began his climb up the legal ladder and started to make pots of money.

How impressed I had been when I first met him. He had come into the solicitor’s office where I was working as a clerk. He was about thirty years old at the time and I was just eighteen. He was handsome and charming, and if I was instantly smitten with him, he made no secret of his attraction to me.

My parents, long time advocates of later marriage, on meeting Michael suddenly changed their tune. “Up and coming barrister; wonderful catch darling;” they didn’t even make a fuss when I announced I pregnant to Michael; “When do you plan to get married?”

Seven months after the wedding ceremony David emerged into the world. And that’s it in a nut shell.

Twenty years later, a big house in an affluent suburb; the house on the island; four cars, two of which we didn’t need; Michael a much sought after barrister who got rich people off charges that should have sent them to jail; a husband I saw only intermittently and whose real interest in David was that “he should be a credit to us.”

Oh yes, there had been the odd infidelities on Michael’s part, but he always came back to me. When he was around and for quite some time into our marriage he served me fairly well, if you know what I mean, and he was always pleased to show me off to his friends and colleagues.

As for me, I can tell you truthfully I was never unfaithful until…well that’s the story.

David had finished high school, and like a lot of kids from well off families he was going to have his overseas trip before starting tertiary studies. That was why I had been so insistent on us having this last holiday together at the island house.

So, on the day arranged we boarded the ferry and crossed to the island; fifteen minutes on one of the few bitumen roads; ten minutes on a dirt road, then a track to the house.

The house stands on a sloping ledge part way down a cliff. It is built on two levels to fit in with the lie of the land – or rather rock - and a track winds down the cliff face to a small sandy cove.

The cliffs curve round the cove to leave a narrow outlet to the sea beyond, and on the seaward side of the cliffs the waves roll in to boil against the cliff face; loud or soft their sound always hangs in the air.

The island’s population is small, being made up mainly of farmers and those living in the three small population centres to service their needs and those of the tourists. Although the house is only about half an hours drive to the largest population centre it has a feeling of isolation. Once there, and with mobile phones switched off, the television set and radio ignored, the troubles of the world seem far distant.

The island, cut off from the mainland thousands of years ago, has its own variety of wild life, and for all the attempts in the past to rid it of kangaroos, wallabies and other creatures, they still abound.

We had travelled in two cars, both well loaded with food and other necessities to last, if not for the whole month, at least in sufficient quantities to minimise the need to go shopping.

We unloaded and tidied away the goods, cleaned up the cobwebs and detritus that seem to creep into an unoccupied house, however well sealed, and made the beds.

We settled in for a relaxing time that would be tinged with a touch of regret that this might be the last time Michael and I would have with David us.

Michael had laughingly commented, “He’ll probably want to come here when he gets married and has kids.”

The weather was idyllic and the men spent most of the time fishing from a ledge of rock that jutted out from one of the arms that enclosed the cove, or used the small rowing boat we kept at the house to fish farther out in the cove. I spent my time in domestic matters, reading, sun bathing on the sandy beach just below the house, or going for walks. David occasionally joined me sunbathing or walking. I kept telling Michael, who at forty eight had started to develop a bit of a paunch that he needed exercise too, but he laughed it off.

Chapter 2.The Swim.

It had always seemed like that. Michael’s work seemed to keep him away from home so much and, I suspected, his peccadilloes with young women, meant David and I had been drawn close together.

As I have said, Michael always came back to us after one of his amours, and he always seemed to want to copulate with me, but this had diminished over the years. It was only when he was relaxed and away from his lady-loves that he became a bit more urgent in his need for me.

Perhaps you think I should have left him or had affairs of my own and you may be right, but I did love Michael and, to be honest, his affluence left me free to go about my life without having to worry about money. I told myself, “As long as he doesn’t bring his women home with him and he still cares for David and me, I can tolerate the situation.”

As for affairs, I suppose that unlike Michael I took my marriage vows seriously and, to face the real truth, I’d never met a man that I fancied taking to my bed. I suppose I saw myself as a one man woman.

For the next four days the weather remained calm and warm. Michael was due to return to the mainland on the fifth day and David and I drove to the ferry to wave him goodbye as he made the fifty minute trip across the narrow strait.

We waited until we could no longer see him on the deck then headed back to the house. To save cooking we stopped off at the main town and had a meal in one of the two hotels, bought a few things we needed, then continued on to the house.

With Michael gone there was a bit of an anti-climax. It happens like that sometimes; there is a change in a situation, even a slight one, and you need time to readjust.

David went off fishing and I wandered round the house doing little jobs that didn’t need doing, and then finally took a walk along the seaward cliff tops, watching the waves roll in and thunder against the cliffs to surge back as if to frustrate the next incoming wave.

The day had turned out quite hot and when I returned to the house David had given up fishing and was lying on one of the divans in his swimming shorts.

“Coming for a swim, mum?” he asked.

“Good idea, I’ll get changed.”

I changed into a two-piece costume – not, I hasten to add, an especially sexy garment. Nevertheless, David, lounging back on the divan commented, “You always look terrific in that, mum.”

I was not surprised since he had often commented on the things I wore, rather like an appreciative husband or lover.

I laughed and said, “Stop flirting with me and let’s get on with the swimming.”

He rose and said, “Right, let’s go.”

We went down to the beach and entered the water. Michael, along with his apparent distaste for energetic exercise, had rarely swum with us, so ever since David was a little boy I had swum and played with him in the water; splashing each other; racing and diving between each other’s legs; this had continued on throughout his teenage years.

For a while we played, but then I went back to the beach watching David swim across the cove and back. He was muscular and lithe and I took pride in what I told myself I had made. I suppose it was a bit of mutual admiration. He thought his mother looked “terrific” and I thought he looked…well…I suppose the word would be “sexy.”

I’ve read somewhere that if a mother doesn’t think her son is attractive or a father his daughter, then who will? As to the truth or falsity of that, I leave you to judge. Suffice to say that David and I thought well of each other.

If his sexiness needs any reinforcing then I should point out that he seemed to have little trouble getting girls to join him in mutual gratification. “Like father, like son,” I used to think. I even got a little envious about his girls and like a lot of mothers held that no girl was good enough for my son.

Thinking about “father” and “son,” it’s odd that I never felt the same degree of envy about Michael and his naughty ways. I seemed to be able almost to shrug those off as the passing fancies of a still attractive and, of course, financially well-off man. It’s amazing how money seems to make one so much more desirable.

David came out of the water and ran up the beach towards me, then flopped down beside me. He lay on his back and still surveying my “product” I could not help noticing what looked like an incipient erection.

The thought crossed my mind, “Perhaps we shouldn’t have decided on a month at the house.” We normally spent no more than a week or two at a time there, and David, away from his girls, was likely to start getting extremely sexually frustrated.

I decided to test the situation with him and asked, “Darling, would you like to shorten our stay. We could go home for a week then come back again; what do you think?”

“What for, we’re okay here, aren’t we? Do you want to go home?”

I couldn’t bring myself to say out loud what I was really thinking so I said, “No…no darling, I just thought you might get bored.”

He grinned and said, “Not with you around mum.”

“That’s a lovely compliment, darling; as long as you’re happy with things as they are its fine with me.”

The subject was dropped and soon after we climbed back up to the house and a light meal.

Chapter 3.The Night of the Storm.

That evening David dug out some old board games we used to play with when he was little. Like a couple of kids we played snakes and ladders, laughing and accusing each other of cheating. It was for me a very nostalgic evening as I recalled those days of his childhood and the fun we had. Like Michael I began to think, “Perhaps when David is married and has children and they come here, I can have the same fun with them.”

The house was not connected to the main electricity supply so all our power came from a generator. On retiring to bed the generator had to be turned off and then we were reliant on kerosene lamps, torches and candles if we needed light.

Around ten o’clock we decided to go to bed. I took a shower and said goodnight to David, and soon after I heard him showering, then he turned off the generator and the lights faded. I could have lit the kerosene lamp beside my bed, or a candle, but was content to lay there for a while, looking at the moonlight flooding the room.

The night was hot and I lay naked on top of my bed, wishing that Michael was there to make love with me. That thought got me a trifle aroused. I got up and went to the window and looked out. Below I could see the moonlight shimmering on the water of the cove and looking up saw the yellow-golden orb of the moon.

On the island the stars and moon seem so much closer than in the city, and for a while I was transfixed by the glittering display of the night sky.

My gaze focussed on the moon and I remembered how I had read that once people worshipped it. I could understand that, it seemed so benign, so…so what? Loving, tender?

I thought of David and how he would soon be leaving me and going his own way. Perhaps absurdly I prayed to the moon goddess; “Watch over him and bring him safely back to me.”

There was a flicker of light and I thought for a moment the goddess was actually responding to my prayer; then I saw a dark line rising out to sea above the horizon. There was a distant rumble and another flash and then another and more rumbling.

“Lightening, a storm is approaching,” I thought. I had experienced these island storms before and was always irrationally a little afraid of them. I watched for a while as the dark line of clouds drew nearer and the thunder grew louder.

Adding to the heat of the night the air grew oppressive. I went back to my bed, laying there listening. The first stir of the storm round the house was a sudden rush of wind that grew in intensity. Then a sound, “Tick…bang…tick…bang.”

It went on and on as the wind increased. “Damn, I thought, something’s loose around the house.” The incessant ticking and banging began to irritate me, so I lit a candle and went in search of the source of the noise.

I found the cause of the noise easily enough; it was a fly wire door that had been left unlatched. On opening the inner door my candle blew out.

I closed and latched the offending door and closed the inner door and started to make my way back to my bedroom. The clouds had now obscured the moon so I was feeling my way in the dark. I knocked against the edge of a table and dropped the candle in its holder and it fell with a clatter.

David’s voice called out close to me, “What are you doing, mother, are you all right, what was the noise?”

“It’s all right, darling, I was just closing a banging door and I dropped the candle.”

The storm was now overhead and the lighting and thunder followed each other with hardly a pause and rain began to beat on the roof. My eyes had adjusted to the dark and I could see David standing near me in dim outline.

There was a flash of lightening that seemed to almost spear through the house and an immense clap of thunder that shook the place. I screamed and David came to me, putting his arms round me.

“Its okay mother…its okay.”

For a moment I clung to his warm strong body before realising that like me he was naked. I should have pulled away from him, but instead I relaxed in his arms. He began to stroke my hair then putting a hand under my chin he pressed his lips to mine. In a flash our tongues were fighting to enter each others’ mouths. We were biting each other’s lips in our frenzy; it was if we wanted to draw each other’s blood.

I felt his penis, long and hard pressing against me and his hand cupping my breast, gently pressing it. Feeling his manhood thrusting against my stomach, my own sex organ sprang to life. I felt it swelling and the fluid start to flow. My nipples hardened and I began to return his pressures by grinding my lower body against him.

Too late I began to protest; “No darling…no…we can’t…you know we can’t;” but half lifting me he bore over to one of the divans to lay me on my back. He said nothing, but kneeling before me he parted my unresisting legs. I felt his fingers on my outer labia and then something soft and warm was caressing my inner lips and penetrating my vaginal opening.

I knew I should resist him, but I was so aroused. I wanted him; wanted him as I had never wanted any man before. I could still hear the storm raging overhead and it vied with the storm raging inside me. In the chaos of emotions that had swept over me so swiftly I tried to rationalise – to justify.

“What harm would it do…just this once, Rhea…who’s to know? Here alone we could give expression to our love for each other in the loveliest way possible.”

I thought that in my confusion, but didn’t really believe it. I knew I should fight him off…scream…do anything to stop what must be the inevitable outcome of the path we were taking.

Then his tongue found my clitoris and it was all too late. I couldn’t – I didn’t want to – resist. I succumb to the waves of love and lust he inspired in me.

I tried to hold it back, to refuse its control over me, but relentlessly it overtook me, shaking me as the storm was shaking the house. I felt David’s arms wrap round my thighs as he forced me to remain in contact, and then it was upon me and I was screaming and weeping, letting the orgasm sweep over and through me.

As the climax came and passed David came over me, his penis probing for entry. As I continued to vibrate and sob I guided him into me and heard him groan as penetrated. His long thick rod sank into me thrusting to my depths, almost giving me another orgasm whilst in the midst of the first one.

Incest, adultery, they were but meaningless words. I only knew I wanted him and would give myself to him if I had to die for it. He drew back and thrust in again the again, but he couldn’t last for long. I felt him drive in more fiercely than ever, and then his warm young sperm was pouring into me, burst after burst until I thought he would never stop.

Yet stop it did, and with a shuddering sigh I felt him relax on me as I came to the end of my own orgasm.

As I lay there, stroking his face and hair, his hand fondling my breasts, I noticed the room flood with moonlight. The thunder still rolled but now at a distance. The rain had ceased and the clouds passed over.

“That was beautiful,” he murmured.

“Yes, my darling, very beautiful.”

Chapter 4.The Halcyon Days.

He had withdrawn from me and lay beside me still cupping a breast.

As my mind calmed I began to think about what we had done; what the consequences might be. “Perhaps it doesn’t matter,” I thought. “In less than four weeks he will be gone for a year and the memory of this will have faded, or perhaps for both of us it will be recalled with tenderness as the supreme expression of our love for each other.”

I was thinking as if it was concluded but I had not considered how potent my son was.

He bent over me and took a nipple into his mouth, sucking and licking as his fingers penetrated my sperm and lubricant soaked vagina. Michael had never managed more than one coupling in the course of a day, that David should be exploring me, preparing me for another penetration so soon, astounded me.

In reality I needed no preparation for I was already saturated and ready to receive him. He kissed me deeply and hungrily and then came between my spread legs and entered. I was very wet and my tunnel was enlarged and as he moved in me there were soft sucking noises.

He was in no hurry and for a while I lay in an attitude of surrender until the warning signs began. Another orgasm was taking over; I feared it; it would be agony as it tore me on its rack of sexual torment. I began to beg and plead, “No darling…don’t make me….please don’t make me…I can’t bear it, not again…please…please.”

He was merciless and my pleas went unheeded. He was now thrusting up and down in me relentlessly and despite my pleading I was moving with him. As the inevitable orgasm took control of me I wound my legs round him and began to cry out, “Come in me darling…come now…now…”

He drew back, then putting his hands under my buttocks, he groaned and thrust in.

Again the explosion of his semen as we fought together, struggling to get his seed deep into me. The moonlit room seemed to be spinning in wild confusion and I was weeping again, tears of joy and triumph.

“He’s mine…he’s mine,” were the words that ran through my brain. I wanted to possess him; merge with him as one body, one flesh, never to part from him.

Such is the tragedy of sexual love, no matter how deep that love the moment of separation must come. We lay for a long time united at the genitals. We spoke of our love for each other but I hid my now all consuming desire for him. I feared lest the very power of my ardour alarmed him; and why not, for it alarmed me?