Over The Hills & Far Away

"That's it," said the demon, "let go, stop resisting, you know you want to."

"Resist," countered the angel, "Set aside these base feelings of concupiscence."

"I'll start to get some food ready," said Peter, rising, and jerking me once more out of the battlefield that was me.

A moment before I was sure he was about to try and seduce me, but his mundane offer to prepare the meal seemed to shatter that idea. Part of me felt relieved but the other part felt almost aggrieved. Had I been deluding myself that I had inspired sexual desire in him? Was it all a foolish fancy; the wish to be desirable to one's own son; the need to be convinced of my own sexual appeal?

I had once heard it said that if a mother was not beautiful in the eyes of her son, then who would think her beautiful? On the other side, if a mother does not think her son attractive, then what woman will?

Well I was certainly finding Peter attractive much to my discomfiture.

As we ate Peter said casually. "We can sleep in the same room tonight, can't we?"

I was taken in the flank with this question but said, "Oh...I suppose so, if you really want to."

"You don't mind, do you?" he asked a little anxiously.

"No darling, of course not, why should I, after all we are mother and son so we don't have to hide anything from each other." I knew there were things we should hide from each other but was not going to say so.

That evening we were both restless. We idly scanned some old magazines that had been left by previous hostellers. There seemed to be much getting up and down and pointless tidying. Finally I came upon a story in one of the magazines and settled down to read it. It proved somewhat erotic in its content and the demon and the angel began their arguments again.

"You're 'over the hills and far away'," whispered the demon, "so who's to know?"

"The eternal eyes are upon you," contradicted the angel.

I kept hearing Peter sighing, and looking up at him I saw his eyes upon me. I caught him like that several times, but then, I suppose he caught me looking at him.

Despite the fact that we had a hard day ahead of us we seemed to delay bedtime. I began to wonder about undressing. Should I modestly go into the shower recess and strip, then cover myself with a towel and sidle into bed? Or should I climb into bed as I had the previous night and undress under the covers?

The demon and the angel had quite a bit to say about that.

Finally Peter stood up and said, "Time for bed, I think."

As he stretched and yawned I decided that all was well and that he really was tired, so I cast aside modesty, and agreeing with him, we went into the bedroom.

With our backs to each other we undressed and when we were naked Peter said quietly, "Good night, mum." The demon and the angel fought, and the demon won that round. I wanted to see my beautiful boy in all his young nakedness, so I turned to face him. I make no pretence; I was ready for penetration, my nipples hard and vagina leaking lubricant. I looked at him and he was indeed beautiful. The weight lifting had made him a fine muscular figure, not in that rather grotesque manner one sees in some weight lifters, but in a still slender and robust manner.

Men have the disadvantage of having difficulty hiding the sign of their sexual arousal, the erect penis. Women are less obvious in that respect, unless the man knows how to read the signs of the hardened nipples and the moist lips. I thought that Peter, being sexually inexperienced, would be unable to read the signs.

I could read his; the bright eyes with their dilated pupils; the body tremor and above all, his erection and beneath his blood engorged shaft, testes that looked as if they were swollen with his semen. His manhood stood up long and hard, the crown of his penis shining with pre-cum. We stood, looking at each other, neither of us daring to move. Then almost as if it was someone else doing it, I moved to him and took his penis into my hand.

He gasped, "Mother...mother..." the echo of my dream the previous night. He seemed to sag at the knees and slump against me.

"I began to slowly move his foreskin over the crown of his penis saying, "You're beautiful Peter."

My inner struggle was over; the demon had won. I wanted Peter and it was all too clear he wanted me.

"Over the hills and far away," sang the demonic voice.

"It's all right darling," I said coaxingly, "no one need ever know. Just lie down and let me help you."

"Mother...mother...I've wanted...wanted you for so long..."

"I know darling, just lie down and everything will be all right. Just let it all go into me."

There were only single beds available, so I gently persuaded him to lie down. No need for refined love play, we were both too far gone for that. Foreplay could wait until later, for now we had to free ourselves from the urgency of our overstrained libidos.

I sat astride him poising my opening over the crown of his penis, and then I slowly let him enter me. He gave a low moan and his hands came up to fondle my breasts. I felt his hard hot shaft penetrating me, fitting tight to the walls of my vagina. I could not hold back a sobbing cry of my own.

I had been penetrated many times before, but somehow this was different. This was my son entering the place through which he had entered the world and he was also approaching the place where he had been conceived. Supposing...but no, that was impossible. Bern and I had tried often enough. Yet suppose...a child of my child!

His length was completely inserted into me and I let him rest there for a moment, flicking my vaginal walls round him. He moaned again and said, "You have such lovely breasts, mother."

I clenched his shaft again and asked, "Do you like that darling."

"Oh God yes, do it again." I flexed my vagina again and held him in my grip for a few moments, then releasing him I began to move on him saying, "Put it all in me, sweetheart, just let it all go."

His cries became rhythmic as the first surge of his sperm was released from his testes and was thrust up his shaft to break loose from his urethra and hammer into me. I sought to move in time with the pumping of his testes, thrusting down with each new ejection of his hot young semen.

I felt the first warnings of my own orgasm begin to agitate me and I hung for a few moments in that limbo of dread of the coming climactic agony and eagerness for its delicious torment. I wanted to stop and go on at the same time, but I was beyond the point of no return.

The orgasm convulsed me with violence beyond all my previous experience. My fluid combined with Peter's massive injection of sperm began to slither out of me. My screaming and weeping joined with Peter's howls in a frenzied cacophony that must have been heard kilometres away.

"I love you...I want you...I need you." The words were wrenched from me by the ferocity of our coupling. Crazed with the joy and anguish of our union I was begging and pleading, and despite the fact that I was the one in control I cried, "Don't stop...don't stop...stay with me...don't stop."

But stop we had to eventually. Even after he had shot the last of his sperm into me I continued to move on his gradually slackening shaft, struggling to satisfy the diminishing shudders of my orgasm. Even that ended and I leaned over him, my breasts brushing his chest, softly kissing his face with moist lips as I repeated, "I love you...I love you..."

Finally I withdrew from him. He winced as I pulled my vagina over his nerve tingling crown, exiting with a sucking noise. Forgetting we were on a single bed I went to lie beside him and nearly fell off the edge of the bed. He had to save me in very unromantic fashion; clutching hold of me to stop the fall on to the cement floor.

Somehow we managed to tuck ourselves in together, our bodies pressed against each other. I could feel his wet sticky penis against my belly and the cocktail of our juices oozing out of me. I was lying on my side facing him and the fluid was running down one thigh onto the bed, gradually cooling as it left its warm haven.

This was proving very uncomfortable so I suggested a shower and an attempt at cleaning up the bed. The latter was achieved because we had brought our own sheets and we had been using my bed, so Peter's sheets were still unsullied.

Since I had the greater embarrassment of our joint outpourings I showered first while Peter changed the bed sheet. When he returned from his shower naked and displaying another erection I decided to go for broke with him.

I got him lying on the bed again and saying, "Now, my darling, we'll see just how much you love me," bestrode him again, only this time placing my sex organ over his face. My legs were wide apart. I gave him a few moments to view my female equipment, guessing that my inner lips would be at least partially displayed.

"Lick me there," I commanded, and lowered my vagina to his mouth.

For a moment he gasped and spluttered, but then seemed to get the idea and I felt his tongue entering me. I kept control of the situation and after a while I lifted up the little hood covering my clitoris and redirected his tongue to the sensitive little nub of nerves.

I gave little flickering jerks with my sex organ and wondered how he was coping with my fluid and female aroma. "Well, I'll find out eventually," I thought. "He'll either hate it, in which case he might never touch me again, or he'll love it and he'll become an unstoppable lover."

From what I felt going on down below I was getting the distinct impression that Peter was enjoying himself. The storm signals began and my next orgasm was on its way, overtaking me like a gale force wind. I put my hands behind his head holding him tight to me and began to squirm myself over the poor boy's face.

He seemed to be able to inspire the most ferocious orgasm in me I had ever had. I was wailing and sobbing and commanding him never to leave me all at the same time. He certainly wasn't going to leave me until the consummation of my delightful agony.

Fluid must have been pouring out of me onto his face, and when my juddering came to an end and I moved away from him I could see the ravages I had wrought. His face was soaked and I could even smell myself on him.

"Now for it," I thought apprehensively, "You shouldn't have done that, Zoe, not so early in the relationship. The poor boy must think I'm a sexual monster."

I needn't have worried. He looked up at me and smiled, saying, "Can we always do that, it was great."

I smiled back and decided his acceptance of oral sex with me deserved some reciprocal activity on my part. He was still stretched out on his back, so I kissed my way down his body until my face hung over his penis. I took the beautiful length of flesh into my hand and brought its crown to my lips. I took it into my mouth and began sucking and licking along its hot length.

I could hear his cries of, "Ah...ah...ah..." and then there was a sudden upward thrust and he was firing his load glutinous love juice into my mouth.

Since he had already ejaculated once I had anticipated only a small amount of sperm; I was wrong. I had not taken account of the potency of youth and its ability to quickly replenish the store of semen. I swear he must have discharged a bucket full. I tried to swallow the salty fluid but it was too much for me and it was running out of the corners of my mouth.

When he was finished I managed to bubble out through the gluggy mess. "Well, darling, we do know a bit more about each other, don't we?"

"My God, mum, will it always be like this?"

That seemed to signal that from his point of view there was going to be more of "this". That is one of the dangers I suppose. You might think to yourself, "This is just a one time thing," but if that "one time" proves wonderful and deeply satisfying, and my activity with Peter had been exactly that, how did you stop it right there?

I suggested another cleansing; I to get the last of Peter's sticky sperm out of my mouth and from other parts of my anatomy – the stuff seemed to have got into the most unlikely places – and he to get my discharge off his face.

In the process of this cleaning up the battle began to rage again.

"You have sinned and will pay the price," said the angel, adding, "You have defiled yourself and him."

The demon countered with: "It's the best you ever had, isn't it, and you want more, lots more? It's done now, there's no turning back, so enjoy."

The demon had won the debate. For me there could be no turning back whatever the outcome.

Returning to the bedroom it became a question of who slept where. I think we could easily have gone on playing with each other and copulating, but there was the hard day ahead of us. It ended up with me sleeping in the bed with the sheets and Peter making do without a sheet.

Sleep came, but some time in the early hours I was awakened by Peter's hands fondling my breasts.

"I want you again, mum," he pleaded.

It was no hardship for me, and since we were both so new to each other, sexually speaking, it was understandable that we wanted each other very badly. I pulled back the covers and drew him down on top of me so that I could kiss him. I am sure he had never been deep kissed, so I had to train him in that as well, but his male instincts led him to my breasts.

It seems odd to me that the male wants to caress the female breasts and suck the nipples. Then come to think of it, the female wants the caressing and sucking, and can even orgasm while it is done to her.

I certainly welcomed Peter's loving of my breasts. It was as if he was my little baby again and I was feeding him. I told myself I was feeding him again now, but it was for a different sort of hunger – the hunger of the mature male to ultimately impregnate the female. The fact that we were mother and son seemed to add to the force of that desire in me as well as in him; could his seed penetrate to the place where he had been conceived and fertilise me? Could I...dare I...have a child conceived in love with my son?

I felt safe in thinking these things since I knew it was not possible for me to conceive. For years Bern and I had tried to produce another child and had achieved nothing.

For the first time Peter took me in the yielding so-called "missionary position." He had not yet learned the art of holding back his orgasm so he shot into me fairly quickly. I did not orgasm myself, but felt a great pleasure in serving him.

When it was over we slept again.

Next morning, despite the shortage of sleep we seemed almost exuberant and ready to face the long walk to the next hostel. We even sang as we walked, rejoicing in each other and the natural world around us.

I had anticipated an eleven hour hike, but it turned out to be thirteen hours. This was because during the course of our halts we twice made love on the grass. Thus we staggered into the hostel just as it was getting dark.

This place had no showers but the rest of the facilities were good. I should like to say that we spent another night of love, but in fact we fell into bed to sleep the sleep of exhaustion.

The next morning we were stiff from the exertions of the previous day, and we were thankful that the distance to the next hostel would be covered in about four hours. In fact the walks to the remaining hostels were over far easier country and this meant frequent copulating at night.

We ended our weeks hiking feeling very fit, except that I had a sore vagina due to so much usage. We caught a bus that took us back to the city where Bern picked us up.

"My God you look fit and well," he chortled. "You must have had a good time."

Peter and I agreed that we had indeed had a very good time.

That night Bern needed his share of me, and despite the sore sex organ I served him as best I could.

The question now arose between Peter and me, "What do we do now?" We had had our hike; we had made frequent love; we had enjoyed ourselves hugely. Was that the end?

We both knew that it couldn't be the end. We were deeply involved with each other sexually. We had added this dimension to our relationship and neither of us was willing to let it go. It had become too precious to us and we were too hungry for each other.

We knew that Bern must never know so we acted with great caution. We could only share a bed together was when Bern was away on business. The only other times were when Bern was out at work and Peter at home. It was four weeks after our week's hike that I realised that the impossible had happened; I was pregnant. The question was whose was it, Peter's or Bern's? Short of some sophisticated tests that would never be known, but given that Bern and I had never succeeded and that soon after my entering a sexual relationship with Peter it happened, I had little doubt about who the father was.

Bern was amazed but pleased. "After all these years," he chortled. "My God, that hike must have done you some good."

Perhaps the years of not conceiving had built up a sort of interest on my womb capital because I produced triplets; three girls.

Incidentally, they were not physically deformed nor mentally retarded.

Peter of course wanted to know if he'd fathered them. I replied that "We'll never really know." He agreed, but secretly we both knew who daddy was. After giving birth I made sure to get myself on the pill thinking, "Next time we might not get away with it so easily."

That was ten years ago now. Peter has long ago finished his medical degree and is in local practice. Bern often puzzles as to why Peter still lives at home with us. I tell him, "Perhaps he has all he needs here."

Well, that at least is the truth.