That Damned Blessing Ch. 02

For his part, Ryan felt his dick press up between their two bodies and assumed that his mother would unostentatiously end the hug like she usually did in these awkward occasions, but when she didn't he simply put his arms around her waist and held her there, her warm body feeling wonderful against his. With a happy sigh he tucked her head under his chin and held her like he would have held a date. It didn't strike him as inappropriate or even incongruous; it just felt good and right, so good and so right that it didn't occur to him to wonder why. After almost two minutes of standing that way, she finally lifted her head away from him, peering into his face with a smile - and froze. To both mother and son it suddenly occurred that this was the time and position where a man usually put his lips on a woman's and kissed her. Jess felt her breathing quicken as Ryan twitched against her stomach, and she even parted her lips a bit in anticipation as he began to lower his head to hers -

And then he kissed her forehead in an affectionate but thoroughly appropriate gesture, and then spell was broken. They stepped away from each other a few inches and grinned at each other as though nothing unusual had happened. Ryan said, "Well, Lexy is waiting for me."

"And I have to pee like a racehorse," Jess nodded, her mind whirling at how close she had just come to tongue-kissing her own son.

"Didn't need to know that, but don't let me stop you." Ryan stepped aside and watched his mother go past him, heading for her room. It was then that he noticed that she was walking oddly, and he would have said it was because of the fall except for the fact that he knew the sort of walk because he had made Lexy do it a couple of times, including that very morning. His mom, he realized, had been absolutely railed recently.

The fact that his mother and father were having sex (and it never occurred to him to wonder if it had been some other man) didn't strike him as odd - the walls at home weren't quite as soundproof as his parents assumed - but this time his mind didn't just glide over the details the way it always had in the past. Instead, he found himself wondering what his mother was like in the bedroom - was she flirty, teasing his father until he lost control and crammed his cock down her throat? Was she submissive and meek, always responsive to his father's desires and willing to do anything he wanted her to, no matter how depraved? Or maybe she was the one in control, demanding that Paul service her?

He had overheard enough at home to know that she was vocal, though neither loud nor a screamer, and he knew that they both enjoyed sex with each other and had it frequently. But what was she like in bed? Did she like to lie on her back and wrap her long legs around her husband's hips while he ground his way into her sweet, wet slit? Did she like to be on top, with her big, pale tits bouncing as she rode him? Or maybe she was like Lexy and she preferred her tits swinging beneath her as she took it from behind, pushing back into his father as eagerly as he pushed into her? Did she like sucking cock, locking eyes with her man while inch after inch of his manhood disappeared into her throat?

And that hot, wet pussy surely tasted different from any he had had before, muskier and more mature - did Paul savor it as he went down on her? Did she prefer cum on her sweet, pretty, upturned face, or maybe on her gorgeous breasts? Maybe she liked it on her ass if she preferred it from behind? Or did she like it deep inside her so she could feel it trickling out of her as she went about her day?

Well, he couldn't stand here all day wondering about his mom's sexual preferences (and he didn't even mentally remark on how unprecedented it was that he wonder at all) because Lexy was waiting for him. And if he'd been hard before, he was painfully so now. Little Miss Garza was gonna get wrecked when he got his hands on her, and he was going to make her love it. He glanced furtively in all directions to make sure the coast was clear, then sneakily adjusted his erection so as to be less...jutting, then turned and headed for the hotel exit. He had a sweet Spanish princess to fuck.

For Jess, the horniness that had been hers all morning long was now overpowering. She wasn't sure why, but it had driven her from the breakfast table with a desperate, longing itch that absolutely demanded to be scratched, and there was only one place she could do that with propriety. She'd been heading back to her room when she'd run into Ryan, and now she was even more desperate for relief after feeling a nice hard cock held against her for so long. Her brain was too addled to note that the cock in question belonged to her son - right now she had room for only one thought. She threw open her bedroom door, hung the DO NOT DISTURB sign on the knob, and locked it behind her, then made for her suitcase in the closet.

She had known that proximity to Paul would make her randy but that he would often be too busy to take care of her, so she had packed a friend - a six inch latex friend, in fact. She pulled it from her suitcase in the closet and stripped herself of her clothes as she made her way to her bed. Barely a minute after she had entered the room she was lying naked on her bed, legs spread wide as she sank those six inches into herself. An orgasm came quickly but her arousal didn't diminish so she didn't stop at one, and an hour later she was still there, ramming herself blind and wishing it were a real cock - Paul's, certainly, though she wasn't really thinking of whom she'd want the cock to be attached to. She just needed to be filled!

Ryan and Lexy spent the day on or near the beach. Swimming in the sea, fucking in the strip of woods on the other side of the beach road, tanning, fucking in a rented sailboat, sailing in a rented sailboat, eating a big lunch on the hotel deck, taking a long walk on the beach to help digestion, fucking in the woods again, swimming, playing beach volleyball with others from the hotel (Lexy watched and cheered because by then she was just too sore for that kind of activity), a long dinner at the hotel, another fuck in a copse of woods next to the hotel (though Lexy was too sore to really enjoy it), a party on the beach with the other young people at the hotel and the young islanders who lived close enough to partake), and then a lingering kiss goodnight wherein Ryan tried to talk Lexy into another fuck but only succeeded in getting a sore-jawed blowjob in a dark corner.

And after all that hard, driving sex, Ryan was still so horny that he had to jerk off twice before he could sleep, both times to thoughts of that faceless yet too-familiar woman he'd dreamed of the night before.

Jess spent the afternoon with the Frauen-Trinkclub, the multinational collection of wives of the the various engineers and other foreigners constructing the new luxury resort on the other side of the island. They were a convivial group who liked to watch the ocean and gossip as they lingered over their cocktails. Only a couple of them, like the dissolute Bostonian Trish Hendricks, had problems with drinking too much, though most of them had a pretty good buzz on by their time their husbands got back from work. Jess enjoyed the group because she was learning a smattering of words from the ladies' native tongues; she now knew Danish words like røvhul, German words like Fotze, Spanish words like conchetumadre, and Czech words like sraèka, all of which she was sure would be useful in polite conversations back home; in return she had taught them fuckbucket, which was what a particularly "available" girl had been called in her high school.

She tried to focus on conversation this afternoon, but she was distractingly horny, as she had been all day - her masturbation marathon earlier had only seemed to whet her appetite, not sate it. As she sat on the deck with her cosmo she found she kept losing focus on the conversation and banter as her thoughts slipped to Paul and what he had between his legs - or, more often, to the dream she had had last night and the perfect man in it. Waking up as horny as she had been this morning had just seemed to set the tone for the day!

In the late afternoon as the sun was sinking, the husbands started returning and the wives began peeling away to join their families for dinner. As usual, Paul, being the boss, arrived with the last batch of men, and Jess bounded across the deck and into his arms. "God I missed you today, baby!"

"I missed you too," he said with a chuckle as he embraced her. "Did you have a good day?"

"All day long all I could think about was fucking," she whispered. "Come on, let's go to our room."

Paul was hungry and tired but he wasn't enough of a fool to turn down that offer from the woman he loved so much, so they disappeared into the hotel. They didn't come back for 45 minutes, when they reappeared freshly showered and glowing from a fervent and very good screw. Even the fact that Jess had needed to think about her dream before she could come couldn't take the edge off of her dazzling smile.

After dinner there was the customary split of young people partying on the beach while the older folk - Jess and Paul included - mingled on the deck in a low-intensity cocktail party. That was when Trish Hendricks once more drunkenly approached Jessica about getting her permission to sleep with Ryan, only to once more be politely but definitely shot down. But Jess' mind wasn't on the party, and long before things wound down she had dragged Paul away to their bed for another lust-fueled romp that lasted until they were both exhausted and lying in each other's arms in sheets soaked in sweat (among other things).

Day Three

Ryan awoke in sheets soaked with his sweat, still gasping from the throes of a powerful orgasm that left his whole body quivering and weak. His first conscious thought, after clearing his head of an endorphin-fueled erotic haze, was That dream again!

A glance at the clock told him that it was just after 3:00 AM, and the room was still dark. With a stifled groan he threw his arm over his eyes and tried to go back to sleep, but the images from the dream were still too powerful. It had been just the same dream as the night before, just as powerful and just as sensual: a perfect, tanned brunette whose face he couldn't remember but felt like he ought to, giving him the best blowjob he'd ever had in his life while he devoured her pussy like a starving man, in a strange version of the living room in the family's Milwaukee home where furniture magically appeared where and when necessary. At least this time it wasn't a wet dream -

Oh. Oh wait. Yes it was. A very wet dream.

With a defeated moan, he stood and shucked his underwear, then trudged to the bathroom to clean up. The cold water from the sink didn't dent his still-rampant erection, which hadn't gone down even a bit in spite of the fact that his knees were still wobbly from the climax he just had. What the hell was wrong with him? All yesterday he had been constantly aroused, and no amount of sex and no number of climaxes was enough to quell him, and tonight seemed like more of the same. Maybe there was some native plant he'd brushed up against or something that could explain this? If so he could bottle it and knock Viagra off the shelves. He'd thought it was just from having a near-death experience, but that couldn't explain all of this. He'd have to talk to the hotel staff about seeing a doctor, because if a four hour erection was dangerous, he didn't even want to think about what a twenty-four hour boner would do to his most precious parts.

Of course, touching some unknown aphrodesiac wouldn't explain the dream - not why it happened, not why it repeated, and certainly now why it featured some chick he felt it was vital to recognize. It also wouldn't explain why it was so damned powerful! He had had tons of sex dreams (he was a healthy teenage boy, and teenage boys don't stop thinking about sex for ten minutes straight whether awake or asleep). Many of those dreams had involved much more sex and situations that ought to be more erotic than the one he'd just repeated, but none of them could hold a candle to it.

Who was the woman in his dream? For some reason, Ryan was certain that if he knew that, the mystery of the dream and its potency would be cleared up. But in spite of the fact that he could remember her flawless young body perfectly, the face was a maddening haze. The funny thing was, in spite of the fact that he was sure he didn't know anyone with a body that amazing, he was also sure that he did know the woman in the dream, that she was someone he would recognize, even someone he was very close to. And for some reason he didn't understand, it felt imperative that he find out.

Ugh, forget it. He was exhausted and even more than sex he just wanted to get some sleep. He slipped into a new pair of boxer-briefs and went back to bed. Just a few minutes later he was fast asleep again, and this time his erotic dreams were the normal kind, about Lexy and cheerleaders and his sexy social studies teacher back home. They weren't nearly as exciting as his other dream, though.

At the moment Ryan had awakened from his dream, Jessica had done the same. Unlike her son though, she had awakened with an orgasmic cry that seemed shockingly loud in the still room, and the last echoes of her climax were still sending electric ripples through her body even as she forced herself to be silent. That dream again!

Chest still heaving and massive breasts still rising and falling, she forced herself to be quiet and listen. The quiet of night reigned. Nobody was pounding on the walls telling her to keep it down for Chrissakes. Next to her, Paul seemed to have been partially roused, but even as she listened she heard his breathing become slow and regular as he drifted back into a deeper sleep.

As her senses gradually returned, she became aware of a smell and a feeling, and a hand sent down her body confirmed that once again that dream had made her squirt. She had never squirted in her life and now she had done it twice. on consecutive nights and both times from the same dream. It was just a damned dream! Why was it so powerful? Why was she sure she could still taste her dream man's seed in her mouth, and why the hell was it deliciously addictive? In spite of the fact that her orgasm had been so strong that it left every nerve tingling and raw, she was sure that the thought of that cum in her mouth and a light touch between her legs would send her into another climax.

She had to cool down, and since that was the only thing the showers around here were good for, that was where she headed. She was naked - she had fallen asleep wrapped around Paul's nude body in post-orgasmic bliss the night before - so there were no clothes to shed on her way into the bathroom. Her inner thighs were so slick it felt as though she had wet herself. In light of that, it was understandable that she didn't realize that that her wet flesh smelled like the cologne her son had been wearing the night before.

"Carlos Ruiz Zafón."

"Who is that?" Ryan asked with a frown.

"He's a famous Spanish writer," Lexy replied.

"Well I never heard of him."

"How many Spanish writers have you heard of?"

"Oh, fine," he grumped. "You just did that to stick me with another Z. Ummmm...oh, Zora Neale Hurston."

"Who is that?" Lexy asked with a frown.

"She's a famous American writer."

"Well I never heard of her."

"How many American writers have you heard of?"

"A lot! But not her. So is that N or H?"

"H," he replied. He and Lexy had spent a lot of time together since he'd arrived on the island, but not enough to feel comfortable with extended silences. To fill them, Lexy had started a game with him on the second day, one she called "Antonio Banderas." It began with her saying that name and then, because the last name ended with a B, he had to name a celebrity whose first name started with a B. It was a fun little time-filler and it had been easy at first, with however many thousands of celebrity names rattling around in both their heads, but they were still on the same game and since you couldn't repeat names, it had gotten exasperatingly hard on some letters, with Z being a prime candidate. They didn't play it continuously, but when an awkward pause entered conversation it would begin again.

By this point the game often led to long pauses while one person wracked their brain trying to come up with a name, but the pauses weren't awkward because neither one was expecting the other to converse. This was one of those times - they'd hit the Hs hard and the low-hanging fruit was gone - so while Lexy frowned into the middle distance and pondered, Ryan thought.

He was lucky. This whole trip was an adventure like none of the other kids in his senior year would have. He was spending a whole month in a tropical paradise yet-unspoiled by tourists - in a couple of years when the resort complex opened, the character of this whole place would change. Hell, the quaint little run-down hotel with no hot water or air conditioning would certainly go out of business or be forced to upgrade. People would stop swimming in the ocean in favor of swimming pools (why anyone would choose to swim in a pool next to the ocean he would never understand). Ranu Ratu would become just like every other South Pacific tourist trap - hell, those nice people he had met the day before yesterday with their unspoiled native ways would all end up busing tables in restaurants or flipping cards in casinos.

He thought again of the events of the day before yesterday, of the drive (picturesque), the rescue (honestly just a blur or adrenaline and rushing water), and the ceremony. Especially the ceremony. For someone who was such a disbeliever of all religions, it was a shock how meaningful the whole thing was. Of course it must have been mostly the fervor of the thankfulness the people displayed. It had been important to them, so it had become important to him and to his mother. That must have been why it had been looming so large in his thoughts all day.

Almost as large, in fact, as his ever-present horniness. In point of fact, he was suffering a little - he was just as wound up today as yesterday, and he had been wound up past all recognition yesterday. With as often as his dick got used yesterday it ought to feel like raw hamburger today, but it didn't. He was raring to go, in fact. The problem was that Lexy, who had been such a trouper with his demands the day before, was too pummeled purple in the privates to handle him today - not many older women could handle the treatment he'd given her, much less 18-year-olds. But his balls felt like they were going to rupture, and he was going to have to do something about it soon even if Lexy wouldn't. She had given him a handy when she saw him this morning and promised him a blowjob later if he didn't pester her about it, but that did little to take the edge off. Thinking about it just made it worse...and that was another reason why he kept thinking of the ceremony: it wasn't about sex.

Only it was, wasn't it? That had been the whole point of it, to turn him and his mom into sex machines for each other. Crazy! As though he could ever be turned on by his mom, with her huge, full tits, her long legs, or the sweet, tight, wet little twat he was sure she had. As if. A misunderstanding, and a hysterical one (though humiliating for the poor old man whose grandchild - or was it great-grandchild? - he had saved), and he would have a great story when he got back to Milwaukee in a little over a week if there were anyone he dared tell it to.

But maybe, just maybe, there had been something in the smoke they'd breathed that had cranked his libido up to 11. What had the old dude said? Those flowers were rare and almost never bloomed, let alone at the same time? Scientists were always finding plants and stuff that had crazy chemicals inside them so who knew what was in those things. Maybe they were like super-aphrodisiacs or something, like they got into your brain and really activated the arousal centers. If that was the case, then it was just a lingering high that would go back to normal before long. Today, maybe tomorrow, he would be back to the level of unrelenting horniness that was normal for a teenage boy.