The Island of I Ch. 01

At five o'clock in the afternoon, Hector and I were released from our tasks and we usually cooled down with a quick dip in the ocean before supper. After that, we went our separate ways, Hector taking supper with his mother and then spending the rest of the day with her in their quarters although sometimes I spied them walking hand in hand into the woods on one of the footpaths. My own evenings were generally spent in the company of Mother, both of us reading or playing gin or chess or Mother painting as we conversed -- on rare occasions being joined by Father, he making appearances usually because he had some new insight into his work or had made a new discovery about dreary old William Isprey.

Our one respite from the dreary work was that at Mother's insistence, at noon on Saturday's we could lay our burden down and until Monday morning, Hector and I were free to pursue our own interests which included fishing from the beach, swimming and eventually plotting to resurrect the swimming pool. In the outbuildings near the dock, I had discovered what I believed was the machinery that would pump fresh water into the pool as well as the filtration system that would keep in clean....there were several containers of chemicals for the pool and chemistry was something I was very good at while Hector was very adept at machinery.

With Father's exasperated blessing, we spent many of our spare hours trying to clean the old pool, draining it bucket by bucket and mopping and scrubbing the interior in a near vain effort to bring it back to life. We also studied and worked to put the primitive machinery back into good working order, progressing slowly by trial and error.

Life as I have said, settled into routine, not exciting, but not unbearable either, but gradually, almost imperceptibly, things begin to go awry. In recalling it now, I know now the moment things began to change.

It was the middle of our third week, nearing lunchtime and Hector and I had taken a break, sitting on newly uncovered stone slabs, odd runic symbols etched into them, barely legible due to their suspected ancient age. Hector had passed me the water jug and as I gulped down the cool, spring water, I noticed him squinting slightly back towards the house. I followed his gaze to see Mother standing on the veranda outside her bedroom, gazing out to sea. The sun overhead shone down on her creating a dark outline of her body underneath her long white dress billowing in the never ceasing breeze.

I handed the jug back to Hector and he smiled at me, hoisting the vessel as if in a toast. "Your mother, John...she is a lovely woman." I frowned, not because of the compliment, but because in his eyes I recognized the same base lust I remembered in Captain Waltern's gaze.

I nodded and replied curtly, "Yes, she is."

Hector smiled and studied my scowling face. "Very lovely." He paused and his smile evolved into a broad grin. "Have you ever seen her naked, John?"

His rude question caught me unawares and I was several seconds processing his words. Finally, mustering a tone of outrage, I said, "I beg your pardon?"

Hector held up his hands in a mocking display of defensiveness. "I mean no disrespect. Your mother is a beautiful woman and I appreciate beauty above all things..." He laughed and added, "Especially a naked, beautiful woman. I would think that to see her naked would be a thrilling and wondrous sight!" He dropped one hand to his crotch and lewdly groped it. "An inspiring sight!"

I wanted to be offended, but inside me was that slight thrill one gets when one encounters something evil...something wrong, but still doesn't turn away. I held my hand out for the water jug, saying as I did so, "That's my mother you are talking about!"

I drank more water, feeling both excited and guilty by his words. I was sure I should've been angry with Hector, but I wasn't. I sat the jug down and stared hard at him and why I said what I did next, I do not know. "Hector, your mother is a lovely woman too."

Hector grinned broadly and nodded, "Yes, Mama is beautiful." His face beamed with undisguised pride.

I couldn't help but ask, "Have you ever seen your mother naked, Hector?"

My friend and coworker laughed and slapped his thighs and then surprised me by bringing fingers to his lips and making a sort of kissing gesture. "Absolutely, John! I have seen Mama's naked body many times...she is magnificent. Mama is a man's woman, my friend...so lush and ripe that any real man would weep with joy at the sight of her nakedness and die a happy man for having known her body!" He winked at me and laughed, again making that kissing gesture with his fingers and lips.

I was slack-jawed with astonishment. "My god, man...that's your mother you're talking about!"

Hector snorted in contempt. "Am I not a man that my body shouldn't respond to such beauty?" He shook a scolding finger at me. "When you look at your mother, do you not feel a man's desires welling up inside you?"

I felt myself blushing and said hastily back, "Absolutely not. Good God, Hector, that's my mother!"

Hector shook his head at me in disbelief and replied, "Then you, my friend, are a liar or you are missing...what is the Spanish call it? You are missing your cojones!" He again groped his crotch for emphasis.

I started to snap back an answer I am sure I would have regretted, but Father emerged from the wood and yelled for us to get back to work. Under Hector's bemused stare, we picked up our shovels and axes and trudged towards our next target of wild undergrowth. Hector glanced back at my mother who was still standing on the veranda and said to me softly before we resumed our labor, "Take a long look at your mother tonight, John. Look upon her as a man and tell me you feel nothing."

I felt my face blush as I gave him a quick nod and plunged into my work with the silence of a monk, saying virtually nothing for the remainder of the day. After dinner, at which I could scarcely look at my mother or speak to her as Antonia brought in course after course for our meal, Mother seemed a little disconcerted at my silence which because my father was busy studying a moth-eaten, leather bound manuscript between bites of his food and as usual ignored us, left us with an almost unnerving quietness.

After dinner was over, I took a stroll around the house and was preparing to return to the kitchen when I espied Antonia standing out near the pool, looking down into as if she were assessing our meager process of restoring it. "Missus Antonia, is everything alright?" I called out.

She turned quickly, the hem of her dress rising as she did so, revealing shapely calves with prettily dimpled knees. I became suddenly aware that she had changed out of her housekeeper's uniform and was now in a simple white sundress -- spaghettis straps over her shoulders looking strained under the challenge of retaining her large breasts from doing more than overflowing the scooped neck bodice. In the waning light of the setting sun, the darker skin of her breasts contrasted perfectly with her dress and I remembered her son's words, "Mama is a man's woman, my friend...so lush and ripe that any real man would weep with joy at the sight of her nakedness and die a happy man for having known her body!" Certainly I felt myself respond to her frank sensual beauty as my penis began to swell beneath my jeans.

"Oh, John," she said, smiling happily at me. "I am fine, young master. It is going to be a beautiful evening, is it not? I'm waiting for Hector...he is taking me for a walk so that we might enjoy the twilight together."

"That's...that's nice, Missus Antonia. It is a lovely night."

She smiled at me again, folding her arms below her immense bosom, as if to draw attention to them and then she glanced upwards towards the second floor of the house. I followed her gaze and saw a light go on in my parents' bedroom. "Your mother enjoys her walks too, especially along the beach, I notice." She grinned knowingly at me and said, "She might like some company sometimes too, no?" Her grin faded and she said, "I know your mother gets lonely and your father gets...lost in his work." She shrugged and then smiled at me again, her smile getting broader and more unreadable as the screen door to the kitchen slammed. "Ah, my young man comes...finally. Good night, John."

I nodded to her and replied, "Good night, Missus Antonia."

I turned and headed towards the kitchen steps, Hector pausing as he passed me, stopping me for a moment as he put his hand on my arm. "Don't forget, John. Tonight, look upon your mother as a man." He smiled and patted my back as he moved to join his mother. "We will talk more tomorrow."

I watched him jog towards his mother and then taking her by the hand leading her off past the pool and onto one of the footpaths that led into the woods. The way they moved together, laughing and joking as mother looked happily up at son made me feel as if I was peeking on two people sharing something private and intimate and I confess that it both disturbed me and aroused me. I returned to the house feeling confused and anxious.

Despite Antonia's and Hector's words, I was unable to break the silence that lingered in the air between Mother and me. We settled into the upstairs parlor, both of us reading...me in an overstuffed, leather wingback chair, one leg draped carelessly over an arm and Mother curled up on the matching leather sofa. She was engrossed in what she called a "bodice ripper" with a well muscled, bare-chested man taking a young woman into his arms, her breasts threatening to spill from her torn blouse...books that always drew sneers of contempt from Father, but which Mother seemed to adore. I was working my way through a boxed collection of old Mickey Spillane paperbacks I had discovered in the upstairs library, amused by the antics of the booze-swilling, two fisted detective. In truth, the covers of those paperbacks were as crude as those that Mother was reading.

As the evening deepened, I looked up from my novel to find Mother asleep, her chin dipped down and her eyes closed, her book closed with one finger marking her place. "Look upon your mother as a man," Hector's voice said to me out of the air, making me jump and then laugh. My own imagination had run away from me, making me think that my friend had been standing there beside me. Then the imagined words sank in and I slowly turned my gaze and looked at my mother, trying to look past the sweet, patient loving mother that had been the center of my life and see her as simply a beautiful woman.

I confess that I failed...at least somewhat. I was unable to separate my loving mother from what I knew instinctively was a lovely female. In truth, knowing that she was my mother only seemed to enhance her beauty...her sexuality and in the end, enhanced my suddenly and decisively male response.

Mother had let her hair down from where she had pinned it up earlier, letting it fall in golden cascades below her shoulders, down her back and down her front, the very tips of her blonde locks serving to draw my attention to where more than a hint of cleavage was visible, the porcelain like swells of her breasts slowly moving with her breathing. She was still wearing the dress Hector and I had seen her in earlier and the upper portion seemed to cling to her like a second skin, leaving no doubt as to the shape and heft of her breasts.

Mother sighed in her sleep and turned slightly, allowing me to see her gorgeous figure in profile and allowing her skirt to fall away and reveal a long and shapely leg from her pretty toes all the way to her upper thigh...creamy, flawless flesh that made me desire to touch it...to kiss it as I lifted the dress away from her body...

I blinked in surprise at such lewd thoughts, then more in surprise as I felt my erection throb angrily in my pants. I was aroused...aroused by my mother! I felt giddy as if I'd been on a carnival ride, yet panicked and horrified that I could think this way about my mother...then stupefied that it had taken me this long to realize how much a woman my mother was...Hector's words haunted me again..."Mother was "a man's woman!" Lastly, I felt anger as it dawned on me that my father in addition to being a pompous ass was also a damned fool, ignoring my mother as he did. I realized more than ever before, Mother was like a lovely flower, left to wither and die from neglect, her beauty never to be appreciated and enjoyed and rewarded for bringing such loveliness into the world.

I was nearly overwhelmed with the desire to take her in my arms and hold her and hug her and kiss her as she deserved, loving her as she should be loved, taking her and laying her down and making... I gasped in horror as my erection throbbed with pleasure at the thought of making love to the woman who had brought me into the world. I gasped aloud, trembling for several seconds, trying to think of other things to push such awful thoughts away.

I found myself on my feet, trembling as I heard a clock somewhere in the house chime solemnly, announcing to one and all that it was nearly midnight. Somewhere down the hall, Father was lost in his studies and I shook my head ruefully. I squelched down my lust and crossed the room to stand over Mother. She looked so lovely and from my height, I had an even better view of her cleavage and I confess I took a long, lingering look at them before I reached down and touched her hand. "Mother, it's growing late," I whispered.

Mother stirred at my touch, her hand rolling over mine and then slowly sliding up my arm, her fingers like downy feathers as they trailed up my arm while she sighed, "Darling." Then Mother opened her beautiful blue eyes, passion roiling in her glazed gaze before she seemed to bring herself into focus and quickly drew her hand back. "John? What...what is it?"

I held out my hand. "It's late, Mother, time for bed. Please allow me to escort you."

Mother's eyes became clearer and her puzzled frown slipped into a small smile. "I must've fallen asleep. Yes, well past our bedtime isn't it?" She took my hand and used it to lever herself to her feet. With her arm through mine, we slowly strolled out of the parlor and down the long haul, almost pausing at Father's office door while Mother looked forlornly at it, then shaking her head slowly, resumed our journey to her door.

Mother opened the door and turned and looked up at me, her sad, loving smile returned. I leaned down and kissed her on the cheek. "Goodnight, Mother. Sleep well -- have wonderful dreams."

Mother blushed with some small pleasure and replied, "Thank you, son." She paused and looked up at me, a curiously odd expression coming over her. "I'm...I'm sorry that you are trapped here this summer...a young man all alone on this island. I know it's difficult."

I shrugged and said, "I'm fine, Mother and I'm not alone. Hector is a good companion and the work helps Father."

Mother's expression grew odd yet amused and she shook her head. "That's not what I meant by being alone, son. Here you are -- a handsome young man and nary a pretty young girl to squire and court." She giggled uncharacteristically. "Of course, Anatonia is single."

A quiver of something naughty and pleasurable coursed through my body, nearly making me shiver. I wondered if I was blushing, but bravely replied. "She's not my type, Mother...besides, my heart, as it has been since I was born, belongs to you, Mother."

Mother did blush and looked away for a moment before smiling up at me again. "You are a good son, John Halloran," she whispered, standing up on tip-toe to kiss me, not on the cheek as she usually did, but on the corner of my mouth. Her smile as she gave me one last glance and said softly, "Good night," made me quiver with delight and my erection which had never fully gone away returned in full strength, aching with the need for release.

Mother closed the door behind her and I staggered off to my bedroom, locking it behind me and once I'd stripped my clothes off, fell into bed naked, and began to furiously masturbate, not quite willing to believe that it was my own mother's image that I was pleasuring myself to. I groaned as my orgasm came quickly, my seed pouring forth as I saw my mother's face smiling lovingly at me, her lips, full and lush opening, telling me to do things to her...things that only a husband and wife should ever do.

I fell asleep wrapped in the shrouds of my own shame and lust, my dreams a strange and misty place which I stumbled blindly through, pursuing the image of my mother which ran gaily from me, daring me to catch her and claim my prize.

The next day was Saturday and the morning found Hector and myself hip deep in clearing thorny underbrush and we worked silently -- me with a sullen expression and Hector with a satisfied smile on his face as if while we carried out our near mindless labor, he was thinking about something much more pleasant.

Finally, we paused for a break and as the day before as we passed the water jug back and forth, our eyes were drawn to the veranda outside my parents' bedroom where Mother, today in a splendid, bright blue wrap that left her shoulders bare and allowed occasional glimpses of her lovely legs in the billowing wind, stared out towards the sea.

Even from a distance, there was something almost indefinably sensual about Mother's bare, pale shoulders...something that enhanced her beauty on a primal level. Finally, Hector broke the silence that hung between us. "I see today, my friend John, you look upon your mother with different eyes...a man's eyes." He leaned over and clapped me on the shoulders good-heartedly.

"Shut up," I snapped back. "You are perverted."

Hector chuckled and shook his head. "Ah, you Americans and your strange views...so prudish. There is nothing wrong with acknowledging that she who gave you birth is a fine, beautiful woman. There is no shame to admit that she arouses you."

I shivered as I remembered moaning with pleasure as I had masturbated to images of my mother. Trying to deflect my own shame, I replied, "I suppose you get erections looking at your mother."

My friend laughed and clapped me on the shoulder again. "Absolutely! My cock swells at the very thought of her...I would defy any man not to get hard if they saw her naked -- glorious in all her beauty." He winked at me. "Be watchful for the chance to see Mama naked...she is not ashamed and would not mind it."

My jaw dropped open and I was amazed that he would say such a thing. I shook my head and said, "That's...that's so perverted, Hector, you should be ashamed."

Hector's smiled faded somewhat, becoming sadder as if my words tired him rather than shamed him. "Ah, that's your misunderstanding of your own faith betraying you. Such a fine message of 'love conquering evil' your Jesus preached, but you wrap it all up in prudish judgments and close-minded hate. You declare the naked body and the act of making love as sinful...sinful! The very thing that is the heart of who and what we are...the very element of love that makes us strong, you would hide and be ashamed of."

He took a drank of water and then spat it out on the ground in as close an example of his contempt as I had seen. He shook a finger at me and said, "Be honest with me, John Halloran. Having finally looked upon your mother as a man should look at a woman, do you love her more or less?"

His question took me by surprise as did the answer that dwelled within my soul. I searched for something else to say, but in the end, in a hoarse voice, I grated, "I love Mother more."

Hector clapped his hands together and raised them to the sky. "Gods be praised, he has seen the light." Hector slid over to kneel next to me and grasped my hand. "Congratulations, my friend. You have taken the first step to a greater truth...a truth that many men search their whole lives for and never find despite it being right in front of them the whole time."