The Island of I Ch. 02

Quietly, I withdrew, creeping away somewhat shamefacedly, trying to control my emotions as I returned up the narrow staircase and emerged from the secret entrance into the upstairs hallway. Sighing with relief, I rushed to my room, locked my door and flung myself down onto my bed, sobbing finally as I released all the remaining pent up emotions that seemed to be welling up inside myself. It shames me somewhat to confess that as an eighteen year old man, I cried myself to sleep, both praying for and fearing what dreams might come in the night.

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I awoke the next morning, somewhat astonished at feeling well rested and slightly disappointed as the closest I could recall of any erotic dreams was a faint memory of my mother's face, her voice calling out to me plaintively. Having showered and dressed for another day of sweaty labor, I hurried downstairs in anticipation of seeing Mother before I ventured off with Hector to clear the brush, but to my further disappointment, I found only Antonia with my breakfast at hand.

When I asked about my mother, Antonia only shook her head and said, "Missus Halloran is feeling unwell this morning and is still in bed."

This alarmed me and I started to rise from the breakfast table, my food and appetite forgotten. "Mother is ill?"

Before I could leave my seat and rush upstairs, Antonia had her hand on me and with surprising strength, pushed me back down into my chair. She smiled down at me, her great bosom brushing my back as she said softly, "Be not alarmed, young Master. Your mother is just somewhat out of sorts this morning." She sighed and shook her head before adding, "This island...this terrible loneliness here can sometimes take its toll on a person."

Antonia smiled and ran her hand through my scruffy hair as I had often seen her do with her own son. "Give her a little time, your mother. She will find her way and she knows that you will be there to help guide her." She leaned in and in almost a whisper, "In just a few days, your attentions have given her more happiness than she has ever known. I have seen this...a mother knows these things." She stroked my hair one more time and then gave me a playful slap on the head. "Now eat...it will be a busy day with much work and that smelly fisherman is due today too.

Alas, that much was very true. Hector and I worked hard and silently for most of the morning, stopping only when the horn of the Vulgar Harpy began to bleat as it approached the island. Father emerged from his study, looking weary and irritable to oversee our unloading and carrying to the house fresh provisions. Father only shook off his weariness when Captain Waltern's men unload a small crate with labels that indicated it originated in Calcutta by way of La Plata and Veracruz.

"My office, lads and hurry!" Father had exclaimed, nearly rubbing his hands together in what appeared to be demented happiness.

The box was heavy and despite the two of us, it was a struggle to carry up from the beach and wrestle up the stairs to the second floor. No doubt, it was weighted down with musty, moldy old books. We placed it on the floor of Father's office -- suddenly aware that this was the first time either of us had been inside since the day we'd arrived. It had been some sort of study before, but now books and scrolls covered most every surface with charts and papers tacked to the walls. Some writing appeared to be in English while others were in arcane runes and ideographs. A handmade map sketched out a surface with rectangular objects in a rough circle and seemed highly reminiscent of the site Hector and I had been working for so long to clear.

There was a faint smell of something fetid in the air -- possibly the remnants of a forgotten meal shoved into a nook or cranny, but seeming to be something worse. Hector looked around the room and with a frown, said quietly, "Your father travels a dark path, my friend."

I gave him a curious glance and was about to ask him what he meant when Father appeared and banished us, commanding us to bring the rest of the fresh provisions up from the docks to the house and closing the door to his office behind him...our last glimpse was of him hungrily staring at the small crate.

Captain Waltern was unpleasant but stayed only briefly after ascertaining that Mother would not emerge from the house. This was the only positive aspect of Mother secluding herself inside on what had proved to be a bright, sunny day.

After our break for lunch, Hector and I resumed work, speaking little although we both occasionally glanced towards the veranda in hopes of seeing my mother. Finally, Hector signaled me to halt for a water break and as we passed the jug of cool water back and forth, he said, "You are troubled, John, yes?"

I wasn't sure what to say and only nodded in response. "You are questioning your feelings for your mother?" Hector said with a sympathetic smile.

"You have..." I paused for a moment searching for the correct words. "You have infected me with your sick thoughts and desires, Hector." I did not sound as accusatory as my words.

Hector's smile broadened. "Ah...you now see your mother as a woman...as a man perceives a woman." He shook his head and sighed. "This is not sick, John, it is simply acknowledging that you are now a man with a man's desires and feelings and that you recognize your mother as a woman...a beautiful and desirable woman."

My voice sounded thick as I muttered, "Like you feel for your mother."

Hector dipped his head in acknowledgment and replied, "Absolutely and she returns my feelings of love with equal passion as you now well know."

I gasped, feeling as if he'd hit me in the stomach, driving all the air out of me. I felt my face begin to burn and my voice was a harsh grate when I finally managed to answer him. "You know...you know that I've watched you and...your mother?"

He shook his head and laughed, "Truthfully, I did not. Making love to a woman like my mother consumes all my effort and attention, but...Mama is different." He licked his lips and grinned wolfishly. "Even at the height of orgasm, when Mama's cunt tightens around my cock, she is still aware. She is what our people might call a Brujiho...a sort of witch. She perceived you watching us as we lost ourselves in our passion for each other...both at the mossy pond and last night in our bedroom."

I could not look him in the eye, staring down at the torn up ground as I muttered, "I am sorry. I can offer no reasonable explanation."

Hector waved his hand in dismissal. "Make no apologies, John. Mama and I take no offense. In our culture, to watch two people express their love in such a way is not wrong, but a celebration." Hector crossed to me and roughly squeezed my shoulder, making me look up to see the brilliant gleam in his eyes. "To be able to share our love for each other with another does nothing but enhance it, John. Mama told me that knowing you watched me fuck her hard last night made her climax all the more wonderful!"

I felt my jaw drop in disbelief as I listened to his words. My head seemed to swim with this sudden scandalous and strange news and I shook it to try and clear the cobwebs from my brain. "Your people approve of incest. My god...who are your people? Incest is unacceptable everywhere!"

Hector smiled and patted me on the back. "Not true, my friend, not true. Yes, most of your so called Christians find it immoral or evil, but even amongst them, there are enlightened ones who understand that incest is simply another expression of love. To my people, it is one of the higher, more advanced forms of human love with power beyond most human ken."

Again, I pressed the question. "Who are "your people?"

Hector smiled and said, "Mama and I are of the Jahndi." I shook my head in confusion. "Many people call us gypsies and there is truth there in that we are related to those lost people who are properly called the "Rom" or "Romany." But the truth is, we are only distantly related to them...tracing our ancestry back to a people who lived somewhere between Arabia and India in a land now lost beneath the waves of the sea. Like the Romany, we have been nomads, some searching for a new home and others roaming the world and trying to find our place in it or safeguarding against that which made us wanderers."

"What on Earth might that be?" I asked, spellbound as if caught up in a child's fairy-tale.

Hector shook his head and replied, "That is not for me to speak of. Someday, perhaps, Mama would tell you more. It is her place as a Bruhijo to speak of such things."

I took a bit of time to digest this strangeness and we both wordlessly resumed work, tearing away the brush and vines, clearing yet another stone slab covered with runic markings.

Finally, after forlornly glancing up at the still empty veranda, I said to Hector, "How long have you and your mother been...lovers?"

Hector smiled widely at me and said, "Since I was your age, my friend...I happily took my father's place between Mama's legs when he died pursuing his obsession. I had dreamed of being Mama's man for a long time, but only after Papa's...end, did Mama invite me into her bed."

I stopped working, a cold chill running down my spine. "How did your father die, Hector?"

He paused in his work, a frown passing over his face. "It was in Mombasa...he delved too far into things that were beyond him."

"What happened?"

Hector began to speak, but then shook his head. "No, it is not my place to speak of such things...not yet. I will speak to Mama and if she deems it proper, she will tell you herself."

I nodded, sensing that I was intruding somehow. I changed the topic, saying, "Are you...are you happy with your mother?"

"Hector gave me an angelic smile. "It is the greatest joy one can know, one I pray that you will soon enjoy yourself."

My stomach felt like butterflies were rampaging inside as I contemplated his words. "Surely not. Neither my mother or I would ever consider such a...a thing."

Hector laughed and said, "You try and delude yourself, John. I have seen how you look at your mother...how with such longing you gaze at her since the moment you and she stepped off that smelly troll's boat." He leaned in to me and said in a confidential whisper, "And she looks at you too, you know, with passion and desire that grows with each passing day."

I stepped back, feeling a thrill deep in my guts, yet also appalled. "You lie! Take it back!" I snapped defensively.

Hector pursued me, a knowing grin on his face. "I speak the truth. Yesterday proved it. Have you ever known your mother to ever dress like she did yesterday...revealing so much of her lovely body?"

In my mind, I could see Mother again -- dressed in those tight capri pants and braless under my old work shirt. "No," I said, replying barely above a whisper.

Hector pressed his argument. "For two nights running, she and you took a private walk along the beach. Did you both act the whole time in such a way that was simply and innocently what you would consider the conduct of a proper mother and son?"

I shivered as I recalled the feel of Mother's large, firm breast under my hand and the hardness of her throbbing nipple. "No" I replied again, barely audible. I heaved a great sigh and added more loudly, "But now she sequesters herself in her room, no doubt offended by my illicit attentions. What I might lust for will never be." I could barely keep a sob out of my voice, my pain at letting my mother slip from my embrace breaking through my resoluteness.

Hector dropped his blade and draped an arm around my shoulders and said in a rush, "Do not despair, John...this is a difficult thing to do. Surpassing the narrow-mindedness of your upbringing to embrace such a different way of life takes a great deal of courage. You have this courage...so does your mother. I see it. Mama sees it. You have come a long way on your own...it is harder for your mother."

His words provided something I had not realized I hungered for and also made suddenly and brilliantly clear about the travails Mother was enduring. "You mean...Father."

Hector nodded and replied, "Yes. Mama feels that your father is lost to your mother now...that he travels his own way, ensorcelled by his own quest for knowledge. Your mother, may the Gods love her, tries to do right by him, but I think she begins to perceive that her love belongs to another...to you, John. Be patient and she will find her way into your arms."

I confess then, I wept as Hector embraced me as a friend and brother, waiting patiently until I was spent and then clapping me on the back. "Enough, my friend. The day has been long and hard. Your father will not notice if we break off a little early." And so we did, slipping off to swim in the ocean, laughing and cavorting in the water until Antonia called us for dinner.

Mother came down for our meal, but sat silent and unresponsive the entire time, making monosyllabic remarks to any questions or comments I had. Antonia gave me encouraging smiles as she brought in the various dishes, but Mother would barely meet my gaze as we dined and declined my offer to escort her on another walk.

Mother's pale face darkened as she looked down towards my feet and murmured, "I...am not myself tonight, son. I believe I will simply turn in early."

"Another time, perhaps," I said meekly, hoping for some positive comment, but Mother merely nodded and slipped away. I pushed my plate away and stared at the old, lace tablecloth until I realized Antonia was standing next to me...heat radiating from her body...from her bosom that hovered so close to my face.

"Patience, boy...your mother is strong and wise, but much must be unlearned. New knowledge is like birth itself...never easy and often painful," she whispered softly, stroking my hair with her fingers.

I looked up into her dark eyes, wanting to say so much, to ask so many questions but hadn't a clue how to begin. Antonia nodded and leaned down and kissed me on the forehead. "Hector says you two had a very good talk this afternoon...that your eyes are beginning to see many new things."

I felt my skin begin to burn and knew I was turning red. "Yes, Ma'am," I replied meekly.

Antonia laughed and hugged me to her, pressing my face into her soft, pillow-like bosom. I could smell her...a powerful, earthy scent mixed with cinnamon. I felt my penis...no, my cock, throb in response. "Soon your mother will see with such eyes and you and she will know the love, the joy," her voice suddenly grew huskier as she finished, "The pleasure that a mother and son can share. I look forward to the day that Hector and I might display our union to you both and who's to say who will take the most pleasure from it, your and your mother...or us."

The voluptuous woman released me only to duck down and kiss me on the lips. "I liked you watching us...it made me feel more like a woman...like a mother than ever before. You need not hide and watch us, John Halloran. Our door will never be locked for you." She grinned lustily at me and winked once and then picked my plate up and walked off into the kitchen while I sat there in stunned silence and pondered her words.

My evening passed slowly. I paced restlessly around my room and then in the study...hoping Mother might emerge from her self-imposed exile and at least be in the same room with me, both of us quietly reading as we had often done, but she never emerged. Walking the hall of the upstairs, I thought I heard Father laughing or talking to himself and I wondered if he would forgive an intrusion to talk with his son, but somehow I knew that that particular path would lead nowhere.

I went downstairs and prowled around the grounds. I considered working on the pool, but the hour was growing late and I'd lost the light...peering down into the messy concrete, it took on a menacing quality, the bottom lost in shadow. I returned to the house and ambled around the kitchen, searching vainly for something that would satisfy the hunger that welled inside me, but I discovered no food that I coveted...instead, finding my attention drawn to the door leading to the servants' quarters.

Antonia's words came back to me...no, truthfully they had echoed in my ears since she had spoken them to me after her soft kiss -- "Our door will never be locked for you." I sat at the kitchen table and toyed with the salt and pepper shakers resting there, unfolding and refolding a linen napkin a dozen times over, my eyes constantly wandering towards that door.

Suddenly, I found myself standing before the door, my hand on the knob. My mouth was dry and my knees felt rubbery and weak. Part of me knew that this was wrong...immoral and sinful to even consider such actions. Still, at a loss over all that seemed out of reach in my life, I found myself opening the door and passing through. The hallway beyond and the rooms there seemed no different than those upstairs, save that it was narrower and peering into a servant's room, that they were much smaller.

All seemed quiet as I moved further in and then I heard a soft, mewling sound from the far end of the hallway. The door to that room was closed, but I could see lights flickering from under the door and I cautiously made my way there -- passing a room which I presumed they used as their living area or study...books scattered about and an old record player with albums stacked neatly beside it.

The sound became stronger and more pronounced. I perceived that it was Antonia's voice, although she spoke no words, but rather was simply making noise that was clearly an expression of pleasure. I paused for a moment at the door, nervous and scared although already I could feel my penis swelling in my pants. I tried the knob and it was unlocked and the door swung open easily,

Antonia's moans smothered my own gasp as I gazed upon mother and son engaged in activity I had only heard of. Antonia was stretched out upon their large brass bed, her fingers wrapped around the brass rails of the head board, her naked body flexing and straining as she flung her hips upwards to more fully press her son's face into her wet and wide open pussy. Her immense breasts rolled about her chest, capped by hard swollen points of thick, rubbery flesh, darkened in her arousal.

Hector was oblivious to my entry, so busy was he in swirling his tongue over and about his mother's sex, her slick, pink flesh almost pulsating with sexual energy while her thick bush scratched his cheeks, turning them an angry red. As his tongue slathered over a swollen appendage of flesh that I perceived was that almost mystical feminine organ called a clitoris, he was simultaneously thrusting two fingers in and out of her wet flesh, fingers gleaming with the juices of her arousal.

His mother, deep in the throes of incestuous pleasure, still somehow managed to sense that they were not alone and she turned her dark, glazed over eyes towards me, offering up a leering smile of greeting. Antonia gradually managed to force free words from her sweetly tortured body, "Ohhhh yes, pleasure me well my son -- show our guest how a son properly treats his mother -- MMMMMMM -- his mother."

Hector rolled slightly onto his side, his mouth never leaving his mother's pussy, his actions freeing his swollen erection, his penis long and thick and hard, throbbing with desire for his mother. He gave me an odd smile, his tongue never ceasing its loving caresses of Antonia's wet flesh, and after winking slyly at me, returned to focus on pleasuring his mother.

Antonia's body shook with tremors of ecstasy as her son's mouth brought her closer and closer to heaven, but somehow she managed to gesture towards a chair pulled up close to their bed...awaiting a visitor...awaiting me and affording me a bird's eye view of their taboo lovemaking.