Winter In The Teutoberg Forest

He sighed as he looked out the door of his camp-hut, and saw the snowflakes begin to swirl down in the fort's open square and parade ground. It was a cold, dark and foreboding day deep in the Teutoberg forest along the German frontier, and Vespasian's Roman legions had been having a hard time of it recently, constantly repelling the attacks of the barbarian hordes that called this god-forsaken country home.

His name was Marcus, and he was a 21 year old centurion attached, as a senior officer, to the Legate of one of the legions. It was nearly ten years after Quintus Varus had lost three full legions in these wilds to an ambush and massacre in these same woods to the German hordes. He had been stationed here, at the northernmost limit of the Empire for over a year, and longed for the warm, dry summer of the southern Italian boot where he'd been raised by his mother after his father had died in Judea.

He was tall for a Roman, nearly six feet, dark-haired and swarthy, reflecting his southern roots. His olive-skinned arms, chest and legs were covered with black, curly hair. He was very fit, a result of several years of army training and, more recently, the ferocious fighting on the frontier with his men.

He turned back to his desk and the paperwork and accounting that awaited him. His servant had banked up the fire in the hut's fire-pit with a large log and the room was relatively warm and cheerful despite the gloomy cold day.

***

Later that afternoon, just before dusk, he heard the rumbling of wagons and the clacking hooves of mounted troops entering the outpost. He stepped to the door and watched as new recruits marched in after the cavalry. The wagons lurched to a stop in front of the barracks and men climbed down. He noted that they all looked tired and sodden, even the horse. It was really not a fit day for man or beast.

He noticed several women being helped from the back of one of the enclosed wagons. While not common in the camps, women were present at various times. Some of the senior officer's wives would spend several months campaigning with their husbands. Others were camp prostitutes who were tolerated as long as the men behaved themselves and didn't engage in brawls over them.

As he watched, one of the legion's centurions accompanied one of the women toward his hut. She was wrapped in thick woolen cloak and the hood was pulled up over her head.

As they approached she reached up and pulled the hood back off of her head and the dark jet-black curls of her spilled out onto her shoulders, framing her pretty face.

Marcus was stunned. It was his mother, Julia Justa! He moved rapidly off of the porch and down onto the muddy ground to greet her.

"Mother, what are you doing here?" he exclaimed as he took her in his arms and hugged her tightly.

Her head and face were pressed against his chest as she replied, "Oh, darling, I couldn't bear to go any longer without seeing you."

He looked down upon his mother's face and saw her tears glistening on her cheeks.

He kissed the top of her head, her wet cheeks, and then kissed her gently on her full lips.

His mother was short and dark-haired and skinned like he. She was a typical Roman matron, educated and fiercely independent. She was the only child of a brilliant military man who had spent most of life with the legions. In her 38 years, she had seen much of the empire at one time or another, most of it following her father from camp to camp.

With his arm tightly around her waist he guided her into his quarters and dropped the cow-hide door flap and closed the heavy wooden door. He helped her remove her heavy traveling cloak and inner wrap. A servant came in with all of her baggage and placed it next to the wall in a heap.

She ran her fingers through her long hair and pulled it back and fastened it with an ivory clasp. She moved over closer to the fire in an effort to get warm again.

He looked at her again, hardly believing that it had been nearly a year since they'd last seen one another. She was so beautiful, small, but full-figured, with large breasts and full hips.

He asked her why she'd come to Germania, particularly at this time of year, nearly the end of the travel season.

"My father, your grandfather, the general, died recently, and I needed to be with you. I just couldn't stand being in the villa by myself any longer. I hope that you don't mind?" She looked up at him with a concerned look on her face.

"Oh, my god, no, mother! Never, I am thrilled that you are here, but it scares me to think of the trials of the trip to get here."

"Well, yes, it took a long time," she replied, "Nearly three months in total."

Marcus looked at her and smiled, "You know, Mother, that you are here for the winter. We will not be sending any troops or wagons south until spring arrives."

"I know, Marcus, they told me the same in Gaul before we set out a few weeks ago."

He chuckled, "I'll get the carpenters in here in a few days and have them construct suitable quarters for you. Until then you and I will have to share my meager accommodations."

"You'll do no such thing, my darling. I am sure that those men have far more important projects that require their attention. I shall do just fine with what you have here." She asserted with a twinkle in her eye.

"But, Mother, you'll have no privacy at all, and I work miserable hours, what with the men coming and going…"

"Enough, Marcus, I have spoken. Remember, I am the daughter of a Legate and have been exposed to the privations of military life."

She smiled at him as he raised his hands in acquiescence, "All right, Mother, I am sure that we will muddle along."

"Fine, now that that's settled; come over here, and help me unpack."

***

After he had helped his mother unpack and stow her clothes and sundries, he asked her if she wanted to bathe prior to the evening meal.

"Gods, yes, Marcus! I feel as though I've not been truly clean, or warm, in weeks," she sighed.

He helped her into her cloak and grabbed a kit bag of towels and a flask of oil, sponges, and two bronze strigils.

As they walked across the parade ground he stopped and pointed out some of the northern constellations in the crystal clear night sky. The snow had stopped leaving two or three inches that crunched dryly under their feet.

They entered the officers' bath house and found it empty. It was steamy and warm, with several braziers glowing with coals. Steam rose from the smaller hot pool next to the larger cold water plunge pool. Rough hewn plank tables and benches ringed the pools.

Marcus opened the bag and removed the towels and bathing gear, placing the sponges next to the hot pool.

Both he and his mother began undressing without modesty in front of one another, it was the Roman way. Families and friends typically bathed together in informal situations, such as at home, or while traveling together.

He couldn't help but look at his mother as she loosened her robe and let it fall from her shoulders, baring her large full breasts to him. Her olive skin was enhanced by the large dark brown areoles and nipples that capped her breasts. As the robe pooled around her feet he noticed the dark, luxuriant patch of thick pubic hair that adorned his mother's genitals. A thin hairy line rose from her patch nearly to her belly button. Her stomach slightly protruded, the symbol of her motherhood twenty years ago.

She smiled at him as she noticed him looking at her, as he began shedding his outer wear and tunic.

"Marcus, I would almost guess that you've not been with a woman in a long time the way you were looking at your mother," she smirked.

"Mother, you well know that I've not had the opportunity to lie with a woman since I've been in this hell-hole of a post; and I simply refuse to use one of these poxy, lice-covered whores that the rankers use."

She laughed, "Oh, darling, I am just teasing you, and I am glad that you are so choosy. It just seemed that you were looking at me as a man looks at a woman, not like a son looking at his mother…"

He replied quietly, "Mother, you are, as always, an incredibly beautiful woman. It is hard not to look at you that way. In fact, ever since I was young man, I have greatly appreciated your beauty."

He could she that she was blushing as she stepped into the hot pool and sank into the steaming water to her neck. Her jet-black hair fell from her loose bun and fanned out around her face in the water, making her look like a mystical sea nymph in the steamy room.

She watched as he unfastened his tunic belt and pulled the clothing over his head. His lean, strong body glistened with sweat in the warm room as she looked at her son's hairy backside, buttocks and legs. As he turned back around and faced her she gasped as she saw his large, thick pendant penis hanging between his legs and the hairy testicles that swung between his thighs as he moved. She could see that her son's cock head was exposed by his partially retracted foreskin.

They were both quiet as he moved toward her and stepped down into the warm water. He let out an audible groan as he sank into the hot water and quickly submerged himself. He came up and brushed his hair back out of his face and moved over and sat on the rock-lined shelf next to her.

They both leaned back in the water up to their necks and luxuriated in its warmth and watched the steam rising from the surface of the small pool.

Marcus told his mother that he often came to the baths just to relax, but more importantly, to simply warm up, as this country was always so damned cold.

She replied, "I know, darling, I don't think I've truly been warm for weeks, until now."

He watched her as she slowly bathed herself, carefully washing with one of the sponges, and scraping her arms and legs with the smaller of the bronze strigils. She dunked her head under the water, getting her wet. She sat back on the stone bench and ran her fingers through her, combing the tangles out. Looking at her, Marcus realized just how much he had missed her this past year and told her so.

He reached over and picked up one of the sea sponges, and after sinking it in the water began to rub his chest and shoulders.

His mother said, "Darling, give me that. Let me do that for you." She took the wet sponge from his hand and began to squeeze the water from it onto his shoulders and rubbing his neck and back. He leaned forward and she briskly rubbed up and down his back.

When she'd finished his back, he leaned back against the flagstones lining the pool and closed his eyes. His mother filled the sponge and began to gently wash his face and upper torso. Her other hand began to lightly rub his chest, covered with the dense mat of curly black hair. She ran her fingers through his chest hair as she stroked her son's body.

He groaned quietly, and told his mother how good that felt.

His mother's hand continued down his chest to his belly and then into his groin, where she gently encircled her son's magnificent penis.

His eyes opened and he looked at his mother's face. Her eyes twinkled, and she smiled as she continued to boldly feel his thickening cock with her small hand.

"Hmmm," she said softly, "I couldn't resist touching your cock, darling. I simply had to touch this beautiful, masculine body that I created so many years ago."

He was speechless as her hand continued down and she clasped his large hairy testicles. She rolled each of them in her fingers as she explored their shape and size. Her hand went back to his cock and she squeezed and fondled his organ as he thickened with her touch in the warm water.

He spread his thighs wider as his mother's hands began to explore and roam through his genital region. The sponge floated, unused, on the surface next to them.

She leaned forward, very close to his face, and said, "My darling, I cannot begin to tell you how much I love you, how I have longed to do what I am doing to you right now."

He said nothing, but leaned to her and brought his lips softly to his mother's lips and lovingly kissed her. He kissed her again and then kissed the tip of her nose and each of his eyes, as he said, "Mother, I love you more than life itself, and I always have, and always shall."

She kissed him and this time slid her tongue into his mouth searching for his. He clasped her head in his hands and powerfully kissed her in return. Her naked wet breasts pressed up against the hair of his chest as they kissed.

His arm encircled his mother's slim waist as he pulled her to him. He kissed and licked her neck and gently nipped on her earlobe as she softly moaned.

"Mother," he said huskily, "Let's go back to my quarters. Let's go now!"

"Yes, my darling, yes." She moaned into his ear.

He stood up, his turgid erect penis swaying in front of his mother's face as he stepped up and out of the pool. He reached down and helped her from the pool, gazing lovingly at his mother's sensuous nudity, the water spilling down her pendulous breasts and glistening on her thick, furry pubic patch.

He wrapped his mother in the towels and her robe and outer garment. He briskly toweled himself dry and slipped his tunic over his head. Hand in hand, they set off into the cold night.

***

Marcus stirred the coals in the brazier and laid another log on. He lit an oil lamp and set it on the small table next to his bed. He noticed that his manservant had laid a small meal for his mother and he on the table. Several small pottery plates held thin slices of cold venison, cheeses, and dried fruits.

He looked over at his mother rooting around in one of her trunks. She turned around with a small clay amphora of wine.

"Darling, I brought you several jars of your grandfather's Falernian. I think this batch was 30-something years old." She smiled.

He broke the seal and poured two chalices, smelling the heady aroma of the old wine.

His mother had shed her robes and the towels and moved back into the light in front of him, naked. Her curly, black hair was down on her shoulders. Her breasts swayed back and forth as she moved toward her son.

He handed her the goblet and took her free hand and led her to his bed. He pulled back the furs and woolen blankets and they both sat down.

His mother turned to him, and raising her goblet, "My darling, this is my wish: That you know, understand, and share in my happiness at what is about to happen to us."

She touched her chalice to his, they linked arms and drank deeply of the rich wine from the other's cup.

She took his cup and set them both on the table next to the lamp. She looked at him coyly and said as she scooted under the covers, "Dearest, get out of your clothes and make me warm."

He stood and pulled his tunic over his head, and naked slid into the bed next to his mother.

They each pulled the other into their arms and they kissed deeply. His hands roamed up and down his mother's nude back and buttocks. Her hands searched and caressed her son's broad back and shoulders as she kissed him.

"I love you, Mother, Oh gods, how I love you, Mother." He moaned.

His mother takes his head in her hands, her face inches from his own and softly asks, "Marcus, my love, what we are going to do is considered an abomination by some. It is incest, my darling. You know that it is incest for a son to make love to his mother. Do you understand this? Is this what you want?"

He groaned, "Oh, Mother, yes, may the gods forgive me, but I must have you. I must love you, love all of you. I cannot turn back, I cannot turn away from you. I love you, Mother!"

She kissed him deeply on the mouth, her tongue probing, her lips sucking his lips into her mouth. Her eyes welled up with tears as she kissed her son's mouth and lips. Her heart was pounding with the sexual passion she felt for him.

Marcus kissed and licked his mother's face, kissed her chin and down her neck to the upper slopes of her breasts. He took both hands and cupped his mother's beautiful breasts, he squeezed them, feeling their weight. His mother moaned appreciatively as he handled each of them.

He imagined feeding and nursing on his mother's breasts when he was a baby. He squeezed and pinched the nipples until the nipples erected and stood up from the darkened areole.

He leaned down and took one her dark nipples into his mouth and sucked it in, taking the areole in as well. He gently chewed and rolled the nipple between his lips. His tongue swirled around the nipple and areole and breast flesh. The sensation that this was mother's body, his mother's nipple in his mouth, was almost more than he could bear.

His mother's body writhed on the bed beneath him as he orally loved her breasts. She moaned and cried with delight as she grasped his head and held his mouth to her breasts as he sucked and licked and squeezed her flesh.

Marcus reluctantly left his mother's breasts and continued kissing and licking his way down his mother's body. He stopped and swirled his tongue in her belly button, eliciting a feminine giggle from his mother as she rolled under his touch. His hands swept up and down her sexy torso, he touched her breasts, her hips and slipped down her thighs.

His face neared his mother's crotch and he could smell her sex. The odor of her feminine musk was overpowering, the smell of his mother's cunt, he thought.

Julia Justa's cunt was the most beautiful that he'd ever laid eyes upon. Her hair was thick, curly, and as black as the hair on her head. It spread onto the sides of her thighs at the junction of her genitals.

Marcus began to softly kiss his mother's pubic hair, his lips reveling in the wiry brushy feel against his lips. His mother moaned as his hands held her thighs apart.

He kissed and nipped at her pubic patch, and kissed the join of her thigh and pussy lips. He slowly laid his mouth on his mother's pussy lips and kissed her womanhood. He raised his head and looked at his mother and whispered, "I love you, Mother, I love your cunt. This is the cunt that bore me. The cunt that shall once again feel me."

He repositioned his body so that he could continue to explore and love his mother's sex, and inserted his tongue between her labia and began to gently lap her pussy.

Julia Justa groaned as her son's tongue entered her vagina. At the same time she reached over and pulled her son's hairy body closer to her face. She reached out and grasped his thick, hard cock shaft and with her fingers gently rolled his foreskin back and exposed the dark purple head of her son's cock. Julia Justa leaned forward and kissed the head of son's penis, the shaft quivering and throbbing in her hand.

"I have always wanted to kiss the head of your cock, my son. To kiss the tip of your cock from where your seed flies forth." She said huskily.

As Marcus began to suck and lick his mother's cunt, Julia leaned into her son's crotch and opened her throat and took her son's cock deep into her mouth. Both lovers groaned at the feelings and sensations that flooded their bodies and minds at the realization of the incestuous passion that had overtaken them.

Julia's warm, wet mouth moved up and down her son's rock-hard cock as she continued to fellate him, her hands cupping and squeezing his hairy balls. She was able, after a few minutes, to nearly take all of her son's cock into her mouth and throat, her warm spittle running down onto his thigh and the bed sheets.

Marcus was completely consumed with the texture and taste of his mother's sex. He licked and suckled her cunt lips, swirled his tongue in and out of her vagina, and nipped and licked her erect clitoris. His mother squealed around his cock shaft and her whole body writhed as he sucked her clit time and time again.

The two lovers, mother and son, were linked, mouths to sex, hearts racing, blood boiling. Their bodies were covered in a fine sheen of sweat, hands sliding up and down each other's bodies as they devoured each other.