Şubat 1, 2024

The Mother

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****The following was found at a used book sale. It was in uncompleted manuscript form, and no author or copyright was attributed to it. It’s probably a translation, and the ‘Black Woods’ may be in Europe. From extraneous pages and references to the ‘Great War,’ and flu epidemic, I think that John’s account probably can be dated between 1912 and 1920. Who originally wrote “The Mother,” and when it was written, is anybody’s guess.****

I had always thought that The Colony was a myth, and the book it was found in, “The Mother,” a fanciful fiction. That is, until I saw the original version in the Arcana Library much after the events of this telling. Due to my keen and unending interest in the subject, I became familiar with two versions of the story. The differences were in the details and not in the thrust or implications of the narrative. Both have a mother and son at the center, and take place in the Black Woods. In the version from the rural area, the early intimacies between the mother and son take place on the first night in the woods, when their two bodies huddle together for warmth. In the citified account, the two are in a small room where they hide before fleeing into the woods.

I will discount the differences when telling the story of the book which so influenced and changed the course that my mother and I took. I don’t know if anyone will ever read this account, or when. The exact time or place of these occurrences does not signify, except to those who also search.

As to the genesis of my sexual urgings for my mother, it was almost a natural outgrowth of my upbringing. We subsisted in a tiny village, a widow and son living in the closest of quarters, necessitated by the meager earnings we could scratch out. Only sixteen years separated us, while physical proximity and love brought us together.

I had few years of formal schooling, but sought out every book I could beg or borrow from the inhabitants of my village. I was in Kopecken’s barn looking through an old trunk full of books, pamphlets, and disparate writings that I had never seen in previous visits. It was there that I made my first acquaintance with “The Mother.” I was certain that old Kopecken had no knowledge of, nor had ever read anything in that trunk.

The cover said, “Stories of the Sea,” but when I opened it, there was only a hand written copy of something with no title page. I held my breath when I flipped through, and my thumb stuck on a page that had as it’s first words, “The mother’s breasts were like alabaster, and when he touched them, it brought to his mind the finest silk.”

My heart thumped as I read on, it said, “The mother placed her fingertips on her son’s gentle hand as he fondled the abundant globe.” A mother was allowing her son to touch her breast. It was written right there. My excitement could not have been magnified had I found a treasure. And indeed I had found a treasure, one of unexpected repercussions. I closed the book, with the page still marked by my thumb. I had to stop to savor the moment. I can only imagine how wide my eyes had opened.

What was this thing? Who were this mother and son? Who had written about my deepest desires? I took my treasure and placed it between two other books, thanking Kopecken, I said I would return them. He waved me off and said, “Never mind John.” Had he not demurred, I wondered if I would ever have let it from my possession.

When I got home to the single room we had been forced into of late, mother was washing some vegetables from the garden. When she saw me, she said, “More books?” She laughed. “You’ll not leave us an inch of space to live in, will you John?” I smiled at the pretty face I loved, with its gentle mouth, and more lines around its star-like grey eyes than a woman of thirty-five should have.

I said, “Yes mother, more books.” My hand was almost trembling. Anticipation drove my heartbeat to the time I would be able to resume reading my wondrous find.

When we went to bed, I placed a candle on the side away from mother. With the book on the floor I leaned off the edge to read. It seemed that the first few pages were missing and I flipped to see if it was out of order. I would not have known the title, had there not been a torn out page that said, “The Mother.”

I started back at the first available page and lingered after each sentence. I give you here that narrative.

****The mother tended to the various wounds and small cuts on her son’s face and arms, and said, “The will be back you know. We must leave, and it must be tonight.”

“I know mother, I fear that we will have go to the other side of the wood. I hate what they have done to us, to you…I could kill them, but there are so many…”

“Please Peter, I beg you not to be rash; I could not bear you also taken from me.” Her son gave a conciliatory sigh as she continued to bathe his chest and back. She put down the wet cloth, kissed his neck and then said, “Yes, we have to leave, fetiş escort but It doesn’t matter, because we shall still be together…come now, embrace me.”

They embraced as if the first time, slowly and gently. Her mouth, warm on his, spoke of love between kisses. His hand reached as her thighs opened, and felt between them. The moisture he had come to expect on his mother’s cunny was there. The son guided his erection to her entrance. As his thickened flesh penetrated the mother’s center, she sighed, and for the moment, for both of them, all was well.”****

I had only read veiled references to the sex act in the past, but here was a son inside his mother’s hidden place. I had never seen it referred to as a ‘Cunny.’ I could hardly contain myself. My hardness was a solid stick between my bed and my belly. I could hear my mother’s even breathing and was glad she was asleep, as I had been moving noisily in my bed. I looked over at her and she was still. When I went back to the book, to my disappointment, there was to be no more description of their pleasures together at that point. The next page took them to the next day.

I stopped reading, and in my hardened state, thoughts that otherwise would have been trampled, now flowered. My flight of fancy took me to my mother’s bed…my mother welcomed me…I was inside my mother. I felt the inevitable approach of discharge as I moved on the bed. I got out of bed before I released, and as I went to the door, I must have awakened her, because my mother said, “John, what’s wrong?”

I said, “Go to sleep mother, I’m going out for a minute…I’m warm.”

“Warm? I’m freezing,” she said.

I said I’d be right back and went into the cool air that promised the coming winter. I brought myself to release behind the house thinking of the word ‘Cunny,’ and what it might be like to know my mother’s.

The next day after doing what had to be done for the families I labored for, I thought of finding Mary, whom I among others, had taken by the brook. I realized I would find no satisfaction there; I wanted more than Mary. I came home and read this section from “The Mother.”

****In the dark of the wood, Peter and his mother felt safer; the dangers of the wood were fewer than the dangers of the village, unless they were followed. They ate from the meager provisions they carried, and then the mother reclined beside the small fire. She said, “Peter, I’m cold.” The young man came behind her and fit his body to hers to give his mother warmth. After a few moments, she said, “That’s better dear,” and reached her arm behind to draw him tighter to her, and to signal to him that she wished his intimate touch.

He dispensed with the kissing and fondling they usually engaged in, and lifted the rough material of her dress to caress the mother’s arse. The portals of her womanhood glistened with the moisture she had produced for her son. When he entered her, she confided the feelings she that had been growing in her all day. “Peter, I’m afraid…I’m so afraid.”

He soothed her and stroked her breasts and belly, which she always found calming. He said, “It will be all right mother, we’ll find The Colony.”

With hope overcoming uncertainty she said, “Do you really think so dear heart?”

He said, “Surely. We will.” His words comforted her. His stroking into her cunny, and his fondling of her breasts comforted her. While he was inside her, even the fear for their lives floated off, allowing them to be enveloped by the love that the connection of their bodies created. As both of their time drew near, he began to retreat from her body as was their custom, but the mother said, “No Peter, stay inside me, I don’t care, I want it inside me.”

He didn’t understand why, at this most inopportune time, she wanted to take his seed into her. In an act of defiance that she herself hardly understood, she knew that she wanted her son to let his sperm inside her. So when he hesitated, she said, “Please, Peter, please.”

He relented, as his mother’s request sent a wave of lust coursing through his body. He pushed his solid staff back into the wet opening. She said, “Yes dear, yes…give your mother your love…now Peter, now…” The sound that came from her was a cry he had only heard before in the distant night. It was a keening wail unleashed from her fears and desires. With frenzied thrusts, Peter released his pent up emulsion into his mother’s womb and stayed inside her as long as he could, as she trembled, and finally exhaled in relief.****

I don’t know what words to use to use that would adequately describe my condition after reading this. I was insane with lust, and every drop of that sexual energy was directed towards my mother. I was determined to act on my desires, with total disregard of consequence. I could not think past the story and so in an attempt to replicate Peter’s experience, I made certain the fire in our house was small gaziantep fetiş escort enough to go out early.

When we went to bed my mother said, “Why don’t you put some more wood into the stove, I’m freezing to my bones.”

I went over to her bed and rubbed her back and said, “Here, this will warm you up a bit.” With my hands under her cover, I continued to rub her back, and then her arms and legs.

She said, “Mmm…that feels good sweetheart.” My cock was hard and my brain was fevered enough to let my hand roam over the rounded curve of her ass. I waited for the remark, or indignation, or onslaught, which did not come. I continued to stroke all over her body and was emboldened to touch the sides of her breasts as I moved up from her ribs. I got on the bed with her and kissed her neck as I continued stroking. She said, “Oh…dear heart…” I turned her towards me and kissed her mouth. She didn’t resist.

After a long moment of connection she pulled her head back and said, “I found what you were reading last night that had you so excited. I read some of it…it was exciting to me too. Do you want me that way John darling?”

I said, “Yes mother, I do.”

And then I heard the most exciting words she could have uttered, “I’m glad.”

We kissed with our ignited passion creating enough heat to warm the room. I touched her and she touched me, and before long, my mother was naked. I kissed and suckled on her breasts that unexpectedly filled my hands. I was happy to hear the sounds that told me that she enjoyed my touch, my hands, and my fingers. I wasn’t totally inexperienced, but it all seemed new. My mother told me to lie down.

I was erect and pointing upward when she kneeled on the bed beside me. I didn’t expect her to bend over and take me into her mouth. I said, “Oh mother…” as much in surprise as in pleasure. My mother cupped my pouch as her lips made their way up and down the thickened shaft. When she began sucking on the knob that had become a swollen and engorged plum, I thought I would explode in her mouth. Before I did, my mother stopped sucking.

She said, “I always knew that I loved you more than just as a mother. I didn’t care. I knew that if you wanted me, I wouldn’t hesitate to give myself to you.” She kissed me long enough for me to come back from the brink and then she reclined and opened her legs to allow me to enter. Her soft nether lips easily separated for my probing manhood. I eased myself inside her and embedded my pulsing arousal deep in my mother’s belly. With firm strokes I penetrated her sheath time and again.

I thought to continue to satisfaction but mother surprised me. She urged me over and swung her leg over to straddle my body. I came out of her momentarily. She smiled as she reached to take my cock in her hand. She found her opening with the head of my cock, and slowly mounted me and sat down. She smiled and sighed as the stave entered and filled her welcoming passageway. She rose and fell on me many times before I turned her back again. I needed to control the thrusts into her, as my desires nearly overwhelmed me.

I held her legs and pushed them back. I looked at the sweet opening that was accepting and welcoming each stroke that massaged both of us. I inhaled the fragrance of her sex and it fired me. The air was cool, but still I saw a glistening of moisture on my mother’s breasts as my thrusts pierced her, searching for more of her, even in the midst of a surfeit of feelings. I embedded the full length of my staff to explore her, and when I found her end, she gave a short cry and said, “Oh darling…I love you.”

“I love you mother; I love you too.” I said that as I continued toward the inexorable conclusion that we both sought. With each of my entries into my mother’s secret place, I felt the yielding and accepting and loving state our physical union had brought us to. I heard her cry out again and then her back rose involuntarily as she cried out, “OH God…yes, darling, I’m…I’m there…ohhhhhh…”

At that moment, more than anything I wanted to erupt inside her, but unlike Peter, I knew that I couldn’t. I was not wearing a rubber sheath and so I came out of her and straddled her, putting my cock between her breasts. She pressed her breasts together and massaged my cock with them. She bent her head and each time my cock approached her mouth she put her tongue on it. I closed my eyes, feeling her soft skin between my thighs and her breasts moving on my member.

The approaching explosion could no longer be contained. I momentarily was as the blind and deaf, with all my senses contained in the discharging organ that fired from between my mother’s breasts. It felt as if the discharges would never end. When I regained my faculties, I saw that the creamy fusillade had struck her neck and lips, and I heard her saying, “Yes darling, yes…” as the last of my eruption left me, and found gaziantep fetiş escort her.

Seeing my semen on my mother’s skin and the manner in which she had received it, filled me with a love of her, and a stirring I had never experience so soon after satisfaction. She said, “You don’t know how much I love you darling.”

I said, “I can see it on you mother.”

I massaged the drying cream over her breasts and nipples as if it was a salve, and she said, “Yes, darling…I’m glad.” We had lain together and my mother had offered no regrets, I rested by her, in awe of the moment that had transformed the unthinkable, into actuality.

In the coming days, together, we read in the book of the colony that Peter and his mother sought, where people such as they, and we, and other outliers of society, could live in peace and community. It sounded utopian, but that is not say that it could not exist. I hoped to read of many more couplings of the mother and son, but that was not the intention of the unknown writer. Only at one other place in the pages that remained were we privy to their lovemaking again. What they fled from, remained murky and unspecified. The focus was on the quest, to find The Colony. We read the following, and saw their search turned upside down.

****Ill and half starved, the two lovers left the refuge and tribulation of the wood. With the last of their strength they made their way to an inn, which rested between two small villages. The mother paid the last of their meager means for two days of room and supper, hoping to find their Shambala before the third night when again they would be cast on the mercy of the wind.

After a sleep of the dead into mid morning, they began a quiet inquiry into the possible whereabouts of The Colony. After hours of little success, they were directed to the home of a man called Griegor who told them, “Yes, there is such a place,” and they must bring all their belongings and come after dark, when they would be taken on a three-day journey culminating with their arrival at the Colony.

They went back to the inn, joyous and exhilarated. That is, until supper when the cautious old woman found them. She whispered to the mother and said, “Meet me outside the inn, and bring your son. You must!” The woman’s voice and demeanor filled the mother with unease. She hadn’t told anyone that Peter was her son…and even if it were only an assumption, why the secretive encounter?

The mother was alarmed enough to meet the old woman who led them to a desolate spot away from the inn. She asked, “Did they send you to Griegor?”

The mother said, “Yes,” as trepidation crept into her voice.

The old woman became agitated. “NO, no, you mustn’t go. That’s what they do, that’s how they get you. You ask for The Colony, they take you and give you back… or they just take you, don’t go…there is no Colony.”

“The mother covered her mouth. “No Colony…are you sure?”

“I don’t know, I don’t think so, but I do know that Griegor will bring you to hell and not to any Colony. You must leave…they will know you’re here now.”****

The mother and son flee the inn. The pages end, but the story does not. We are left abrupt and discomfited. The mother and son, while uncertain even of its existence, decide to continue the search for the Colony. The description of the their final night of carnal embrace, led to a similar occurrence between my mother and me. As we prepared for sleep I approached my bed and mother said, “John, that’s too far from me. Come to my bed.”

I joined her, happily, as it had become our custom for me to come to her bed only when she invited me. We kissed for a long time until we were both naked and touching each other with urgency. My fingers entered the wet of her sex and I brought it for both of us to taste. It fired me to have more of that sweet fluid in my mouth and I bent to put my lips from where the juices seeped. I licked the place I had learned to be a source of great pleasure for my mother, and exposed from its hood the protuberance that swelled when I sucked on it. I devoured the fragrant mound of my mother’s flesh with my tongue and mouth.

My mother said, “Oh John, I never expected that any man would love me like this…I can’t tell you how good you make me feel with your loving mouth…yes darling…oh yes…like that…oh God…Oh…Oh…” I continued ministering to her tender flesh as she murmured, and sighed, and moaned. I was hardened stiff in anticipation of taking her.

I turned her and entered her from behind, sliding into her wetness until her sex completely enfolded mine. I held her buttocks, and on my knees, I pressed home as deep as I could into my mother’s womb. My horn probed inside her tender flesh. She welcomed me and pushed on me with the ardor of a lover who has been separated from her mate and is in his arms once more. Against the certain knowledge of its foolhardiness, I still wished to release inside her. I did not.

Mother said, “Does it feel good John, do I please you?”

I said, “It feels better than I could have imagined mother. I love being inside you, and moving in you like this.”

She said, “Yes John…yes, I know…I feel it like that too. I never want to be without you or without this…yes darling, push into me, love me, never stop…”