Sonnymoon Cruise

Then he spent long minutes with each breast, I felt like he was looking for lumps. Or maybe buying melons? The nipples were viewed so close up; I thought he ought to get a magnifying glass if he wanted more detail. I can't imagine what navel gazing did for him, with my pipik button, but he found some kind of connection evidently. I mean, there was an umbilical one originally, right? Then he went for the toes. No foot fetish though, just a careful look. I had a pedicure a couple weeks back, so they were not too bad. They could have used a bit of polish; the sandals were making it tough to maintain the lacquer.

He rolled me over and had me spread my legs, then he opened my cheeks. I doubt that he was memorizing the shape of my asshole. I hope not! But I think that he was gauging the angle for penetration, if he was going to do the doggie-position, or possibly during a back-rub, to enter my vagina. Jacob always loved doing that, so did my lover, way back when. I think it's because I have small buttocks, my tush is tiny for a woman my age. But then I'm short too, thank God I've stayed thin. Grandma was a roly-poly Pole. I dodged that genetic bullet. "DAMN IT, Samuel that tickles!" Fiddling with the back of my knees, he should know better, at his age!

He rolls me on my back again, spreads my knees. I maybe could use stirrups? Maybe he will want a flashlight, is there a bear in the cave, or is it just a bare cave? He is leafing through the labia, despite myself my clit swells, and I lubricate. But this is strictly clinical tonight, tomorrow is play-time, a surprise for you too . . . wait and see, or . . read. I got an excellent examination of his genitalia the other day, when I had him squirt. The rest, not so interesting. After all, for most women it's more what's in the head and heart, than shapely calves. Still, a great set of buns is fine beefcake to contemplate, right ladies?

Finally, he was done. I raised my arms, and we hugged. His peter was poking, but I wasn't offering any refuge to the beggar at the door. He would have to stay hungry for another day. I got him on his tummy and rubbed his back. Soon he was softly snoring. Then I drifted off, and dreamed I was a young girl, running along a sandy strand, chased by a dozen boys. They were all naked as Adam; I wore a gossamer diaphanous flowing long dress that billowed with the warm sea breeze. I never let them catch up, but never got too far ahead. I knew how to keep their interest. They followed the scent from between my thighs, which wafted on the breeze. One young man led the pack. I turned to see his face. It was Sammy.

We needed to get going early for our day's adventure. I ordered room service as soon as I awoke, nothing elaborate, in fact, the fruit we could take with us. This was our third day at the second Island; the bus was waiting to take us to a special spot. I let my eyes sparkle with amusement, as Sam tried to guess where we were headed. When a sign said 'Dolphin Bay', it was a giveaway. Being in the water with those animals was a thrill I will never forget, nor regret the extra it cost to bump another couple to the submarine ride.

Maybe not nice, but they were promised another chance at a later port. Dolphin skin is tough, but so smooth, muscles hard but supple too. Much like a mammoth penis in a way, when you think about it, and of course, they are always slick with wetness. They have a sense of humor, and personalities. They are fast, but will also come right up to you, once you have been properly introduced. That was one highlights of our trip for both of us, one from the tours we had. There were other highlights as well, but we will cum to them later on in this narrative.

When we got back to the ship mid-afternoon, I was starved. We got oversize sandwiches from the snack-bar. Then, we had our picture taken for the souvenir shot they sell at the end of the cruise. There wasn't a line yet, like there would be later. Janice had clued me in on that trick. Samuel and I played shuffle board with an elderly couple, on their 'third honeymoon'. I mean shuffle board is required at least once, right? Tradition! Then we did a little gambling, lost $50 between us. Keep away from the 'devil's wheel'! I told Sam, as he was the big loser of the day; I only dropped $15 at the slots. Then dinner was nice, with a regular group of folks at our table, we had grouper, or some big fish cooked 'Island style', which meant pineapple and spices. But tasty.

We decided against the vaudeville show. We had seen plenty in the Catskills back in the day. Instead, we opted for catching the early show of a little romantic comedy film, recently out, that neither of us had seen. Then it was time for my surprise to be sprung. I hustled us back to the cabin and told Sam to change into his swim trunks, a tee shirt and flip-flops. (If you get them on the wrong feet are they flop-flips?) I had a similar outfit. I had reserved one of the private hot-tub rooms. They were hard to get, there was a waiting list. Lots of honeymooners, of course. But I knew the booking guy had a family that could use . . . let's just say, they were going to be a few car payments ahead of their regular income. Nobody got bumped this time, just a room that was allowed to be used past regular closing time.

I had specified the temperature being about the same as the shallows at the beach. Nowadays, the chemicals are not so harsh, and the water was very nice. The jets were easy to control; I put some on but not all. I had Samuel make sure the door was locked. I turned the lights as low as they would go. Then I stripped. Sam followed suit, un-suiting himself. Not a word was said, as we got in the pool. He was rigid! I wasn't going to let him fuck me, but when we were done, that pole wouldn't be a problem for a while. I mean, I was his mother, and while we had been doing some rather unorthodox activities together, I couldn't allow that to happen. I hoped I could keep that promise to myself. I'm sure that 'Oedi-Sam-son' had strong feelings, in the opposite camp.

But I was in charge, so far at least. "Tonight, in this tub," I said to Sammy, "which is a tidal pool for our purposes (or maybe porpoises) we are not people at the moment, but dolphins. You must close your eyes and find your way around by sound, using echo location. If you find another dolphin, you may frolic with her, but she might not be in heat, you'll just have to discover what she will allow. Do you understand?"

"Eee . . Eee . . Eee" squeaked Sammy, in a poor imitations of the dolphin's call we had heard this morning. His eyes were closed at least.

"Eeee . . Eee . . yourself!" I said and closed my eyes. With my head close to the water, I could hear my son splashing as he sought me. No doubt with mating on his mind, and other parts of his anatomy. I held still, then moved away, as he, not so quietly, sought me. But it was a small pool, and eventually he found me. I went, "Eeeee . . ooo . .eee!" as his hands - flippers - floundered around my torso, and between my legs. I swam away, but he was listening closer now, and followed. I could feel his ventral protrusion, like a rude rudder. My female center was heating the water. We circled, and did a kind of grappling, grasping exploration, eyes still closed.

Occasionally it got awkward, as aiming is visual for humans, but soon enough, we got the hang of finding our way around each other, by touch. He got to move his flippers all over my mammeries, and down where he was only allowed to peer at, last night. I handled his stick, and ran my fingers all over his hind end, and through his chest hairs. What a sensual exhilaration to use only tactile, rather than visual means, to explore another person's body. In water, it was sliding and slippery and smooth, and the muscles were defined in a different way, even that special one that stuck out from his loins. I kept playing the coy female, squirming away, before any overt, or even covert, connection was made.

Finally, I took pity on the poor frustrated fella. I made know my instructions, by guiding him to the place I wanted him to sit. Then I sat on his lap, my back to his chest, my bottom on his boner. I took his hands, and brought them to my tits. He immediately began to caress them. I worked my backside, so that his dick was being masturbated by my ass. The divide of the cheeks nestled that male muscle, and I tried very carefully to make sure that the 'sweet-spot' was never in range of his ruddy helmet. I thought sure I could bring him off that way. My voice was a high pitched "Eeeee . . Eeeee . .Eeeee . . Eeee - I cried with pleasure. then - "Eeek!" I squeaked as his dick's cap skidded along the gash. His lips at my neck and hands fondling my breast had distracted me so much that I didn't immediately notice that his little diver had found my underwater cave after all!

I lifted up like I was poked with a much sharper instrument. I had been spared being a sheath to his dangerous dagger by an awkward angle. I immediately turned around however and sat down again facing him. "Don't fuck me," I whispered as I ground my mons on his man-meat. "But I do want you to cum on mommy's tummy." He responded with back and forth sawing, on my lower abdomen. It was more dangerous, but I had more control of the situation, at least an early warning system. The other way, I realized if he had found the exact spot and right orientation, he would have been up where only his father, and one other man, had been in the last twenty years. And I would have had no defense, perhaps even allowed him to . . . how did Auntie Mame put it? Allowed him "to do what little boy fishies do to little girl fishies." What would that coupling spawn? More incest that would be certain. With that channel marked by his buoy, I would be a long gone gull!

I was going to get off this way with him, as the head of that pike pushed against my clit and raked along my labia. I sensed it getting lower and lower, but the strokes were longer and longer. I figured he would cream quickly this way. For me it felt soo goood, it had been soo loong since last time. His cock was so hard and long, and just exactly in the right groove. I grabbed him with my arms around his back; my boobs were mashed against his chest. My head was next to his, I whispered moans of encouragement in his ear. His hips were pushing on the built-in molded bench. It was getting too. . Oh my God! It touched the hollow! It dipped into the cavity of my sex, a fraction. I froze. I clamped him, to try to stop any more motion. NO! Oh Please! Not. . We can't. . My brain was racing with wild thoughts, I remembered my dream. Sammy leading the pack, my gown was suddenly gone, and I ran down the beach naked now, and Sammy was gaining on me. He caught me.

I could feel the tip was wiggling in the worm hole; the snake was nosing into the nest. . I succumbed to the temptation to accept sex with my son as a sacrifice for his sanity . . I could sense the bulb press open the mouth of my sex . . Oh! Yes I wanted it, I wanted him . . I admitted it . . I can't help myself . . my boy . . almost died . . it was going in, it was just right there, almost into me . . what is he waiting for? . . I gave him birth . . life . . now he is returning . . to the womb . . the tip is pulsing at the soft spot, the place I need him, the . . Oh God! my clit is . . I'm cumming! . . come on Samuel come into mommy, and cum in mommy! He's cumming . . just at the . . outside . . almost in, not quite . . half the tip . . The only muscles moving for either of us are the involuntary ones, that are spasming with our orgasms . . the climax is so good . . but not what I had in mind. Not the more innocent fun I had planned earlier, not what I craved at the peak of our intimacy.

I was filled with relief, but with a sense of loss, as well, for what might have been. The rational is mixed with the emotional, and they won't meld, they just swirl. Like the water that flows around us, washing the fluids of lust away, and reminding us we are in an artificial environment, and our circumstances are not natural. Neither are our desires, nor the reserve we have shown, (Samuel has shown, I was a rutting slut at the last). Neither of those two forces are what would be the usual happenings. We wouldn't normally have mated, nor ever been attracted to one another. But we were and almost did and we are kept apart by respect. What truly odd creatures are humans? That was a close one. But I feel all the closer to Sammy, for the almost fuck, the being right there at the entrance to his mother's core. Closer to him as much for his strength to have resisted going inside, not making love to me the way he - we - wanted to. I don't know where this goes from here, except back to the cabin. We dressed and walked back in silence.

I order a bottle of that nice wine we had the other evening. We sit on the balcony. In our swim suits, which are dry. The stars stare back. No breeze to cool tonight. I finally let out a long sigh, and look at the man who is my son, who would be happy to be my lover. I smile, and say one word. Ever so softly my voice uttered it, "damn".

"Damn", comes his echo.

That night we sleep naked in each other's arms. Not with any erotic intentions, but sensing that we both need the physical closeness which will bring us the comforting of mutual love and tenderness. I wake, but Samuel is not in bed, immediately he calls from the balcony, "I'm here, mom, everything is fine. We are underway. There's a big storm headed toward the south of the island, and we are going north. The captain decided to switch our agenda around to have good weather for the week. They have a running announcement at the bottom of the TV screen, on all the channels." We not only get satellite, beamed in, but the boat has its own series of programs. How to gamble, what tours you can book, fish you might see, shells you might find, etc. But who has time for TV on a cruise?

"So, sweetheart, what do you want to do today?" I ask, no tours ashore, when we are underway.

"Well, I looked at the 'what to do aboard the ship if you're bored' channel, and picked some things for us to try. There's bowling, bike riding, tennis, we did shuffle board, scuba lessons in the bow pool at eleven, and a diving pool at the stern, skeet shooting off port side at one, and golf practice on starboard at three. The rock climbing wall is open all day today, but you need to make reservations."

"Sam, I hate bowling, bike riding is okay, but on a track I'd be bored by the third circuit. Tennis is not my cup of tea, remember my weak ankle. We did shuffle board, I am not going scuba diving, or any kind of diving, except night clubs, those are my kind of dives. I don't shoot, guns scare me; and I don't golf, except putt-putt. Rock climbing; are you out of your gourd? You can try, not little old me!"

"Well, I think rock climbing might be interesting, but I was hoping to do something with you." He pauses, the rat! "Of course there is ballroom dance practice at ten AM, the sun will be out by one, they think, and the bow pool has a complimentary drink served after two. We could lounge and get wet every once in a while, to keep cool. Work on getting that nice tan that says, 'I was on vacation in the Caribbean!'"

"You scamp! Why did you go through all the rest of that crap to begin with? Is that the way I raised you?"

"Why, yes mother, I learned from the best, yourself!"

"That's my boy! What time is it, now?"

"Half past eight: we can dress for the ballroom, informal skirts for gals and shirts for men. Sneakers and sandals discouraged. Leather twirls better. After breakfast, promenade around the decks for a little, and then head to the dance floor on deck D. After a light lunch, change and go sunning and swimming, until dinner, or a nap, whatever comes first. After dinner, there is a choice of a play, a comedy, or the musical stylings of a troupe of folk singers and musicians from the area."

"Sounds like a plan!" and that's what we did. When it came to changing though, I no longer bothered with the bathroom. Sam had seen every inch of skin, no reason to be falsely modest now. But that was not going to be common practice when we got back home, when he came to visit. Especially, if Jan was around! Dancing with Samuel was wonderful, and quite romantic. People acted like we were a couple, even though there was clearly an age difference. So maybe it was a Decem . . uh, September-May romance. What did they know? We had the same last name, I was Mrs. Covey - it could happen, right? He was light on his feet, and never on mine (maybe that's why no sandals?), and led firmly just like I taught him when he was in seventh grade.

After the play, (Sam laughed so hard, it made up for the comedian) we went back to the cabin and ordered our new favorite wine again and just sat and - watched TV. But we channel surfed. I made Sammy watch a twenty minute lesson on roulette, then he vowed to give it up and try chuck-a-luck, go figure! The wine came, we got naked and went out to the balcony. The neighbors were not in evidently, I guess they like the nightlife, maybe they were at the casino area on board. The weather was sweet, the ocean had swells, we were feeling swell and like sweethearts. It was a great day. The night was about to get very good too, it turned out.

After a while I felt like stretching out, I wasn't sleepy, but just wanted to relax on the bed. Sam followed in a couple of minutes. He got next to me and whispered something naughty in my ear. I grinned and nodded. That was an activity that I would be very happy to have happen. That was a diving I hadn't thought of, muff diving. I spread my legs, and angled my knees wide. My muff was his for the diving. My pussy was ready to be eaten, late night snack buff-et. Cunnilingus here we cum! His tongue was as nimble as his feet, but I hadn't taught him this way to treat a lady. He certainly knew how to give a lady a treat! His lips made my nether lips smile; his attention to my clit was masterful. Just when I thought I was done, he would switch to a different area, and make me grab the covers building to yet another orgasm.

I loved when he would kiss my thighs, then lick them. I never knew I could be so sensual there. He made long laps on the outside of my pussy, then stuck the squirmy-pink-thing as deep as it would go in my cunt, and wildly wiggled. He strummed and hummed the pleasure bud of my most sensitive flesh, until the clit seem to vibrate on its own. Sammy used his breath to both warm and cool the damp folds, the alternating temperatures contrasts making for a unique turn-on.

Every once in a while he would rise and pay attention to my nipples. They appreciated not being left out of the fun. Most of the raunchy recess was devoted to making my crotch a playground for his mouth. My entire womanhood was a romper-room for my child's face. He had somehow shaved before this happy-meal, I wasn't sure when, but the smooth cheeks left no beard-burn. All I had to do was keep from smothering him, when my orgasms made my legs clutch in involuntary clamping.

I climbed to climax after climax. I was exhausted by the time his face gave out and he could no longer lick, lap, suck or hold his neck in position. God, he even used his nose on my nubbin! I hauled him up to me, with what little strength left, and kissed him profusely, Frenching and letting his rod nudge my pudenda. He tasted of me, but it was good; it was messy, but I didn't mind. It was to be expected, after he had made a fabulous effort to make his mama go floating to cloud nine. But it had been a long day, and before anything else happened, before we knew it, we were both asleep. It might have been because of all that sun, it more likely had been all because of my son.