Chapter 30: A Mother Cares

Sunday July 13, 2008

After visiting each of my three pairs of girl, including some playful hugs with my future wives, I grabbing an early breakfast then wandered around the Colony for a time, collecting my thoughts for my speeches. When I saw Kwool’s helicopter lift off I figured that she and Resha were both up and out of my room, so I went there and began working on the speeches I would use to address the Tribe and the Colony tomorrow. The speeches would be similar, indicating how I expected to run things once I replaced both the Chief and the Patron. It both cases the trick was to balance continuity of the two cultures with the need to drag the populations into the modern world, merging them with my LA community.

The Five had a plan for the land, and what they saw others would see. I had no doubts that, if we did not make a plan, we would wake up some morning with others planning for us. That somebody would have the government of Peru at their back, and some rich, shadowy corporate backers would be behind the government, goading the all-to-human officials. I could not stop that, political stuff (bribery and assassination) was too slow process, so I had to beat them at their game. That meant beating them to the courthouse, and complications which we had avoided so far.

I know, most criminals south of the Rio Grande also practiced kidnapping as a routine political tool, but I had a harder time with that - in part because it is such a hassle, creates exposure, and has so little flexibility. Maybe I think I am better than that, I’m not that type of criminal.

I had made a lot of progress by 11 in the morning. That was when somebody made a noise outside my door. When I looked I saw it was Marta, with a plate of food in each hand, wearing a simple short robe belted at the waist.

“Mother, what are you doing here?”

“A woman can’t see that her son is fed? Maybe have a short conversation?”

Yeah, I had to expect that, I wondered what I was in the doghouse for.

I knew I deserved it, but I still wondered. “Of course Mother dear.” I made a move to put my hands on her but with her hands full she wasn’t having that. So I stepped out of the way for her to come in, then closed the door behind her. When I turned back to her the plates were on the table, the robe was on the ground, and Marta was naked, crawling on all fours on my bed, with a move that said “feline, hungry.” She looking happy, eager and aggressive. He smile told me what she wanted first from her big strong son.

I guess I was in the cathouse instead of the doghouse.

“Talk later,” she ordered me. “Lose the shorts, then come here to greet your mother improperly like you were taught. You have been here 48 hours without loving your mother like you know she wants.”

I knew better than to point out how she was occupied, and had plotted with the Patron to surprise me.

Our shared intimate pleasure was a violation of the traditions of the Colony and nature. We knew well who the Ptolemys and Habsburgs were, their sin and the results visible on their faces, which were said to reach a historic level of depravity in the remarkable Charles II of Spain. Bewitched Charles came a hundred years after the Colony was founded by Philip III, who was both grandfather and great-grandfather to Bewitched Charles.

But in the Land Of The Free, in LA and Dallas and Detroit, my aunt Marta raised me as her own child when she held me at her breast. She taught me that we really didn’t care about what anybody else thought when we were drunk with the pleasure from each other’s bodies. We lived by our own rules.

Besides, if so many successful men can have lovers the same age as their daughters, why is it wrong for an older woman to take a handsome young man her son’s age as a lover? Especially if her husband was dead and she was disfigured, missing an eye.

I had to say something in my own defense. “It seems that I have been busy with my grandfathers and their nasty secrets, plus I have been busy with my duties,” I said as I dropped my shorts. Marta was more than two decades older than me, and nobody who could see would say her scared flesh was beautiful. But she projected sexual desire, the sight of her naked body in my bed was a trigger that had me hard and erect in no time - like many times before. Maybe it helped that the sheets still bore the perfume of Resha and Kwool from their play last night.

Still on all fours, Marta showed me her bottom and gave a wiggle, so I stepped up and stuck it in, doggie style, getting a read on her humidity. She was well past ready, more like 130% ready for it. I moved in her a few times, enough to know this was just a taste for her, an appetizer. But you know, a good appetizer is also know as “a good start.”

She wanted that entry - I slid in deep with the first push - followed by about a few dozen good strokes. No exactly affectionate, but for us it was clearly loving, making a connection and setting a mood.

Then she walked out of the positions and settled on her back in the center of the bed. Once started she clearly wanted to start at the beginning.

She raised me well, I knew what to do. I wasted little time embracing her in a deep passionate kiss, with our lips open and our tongues hungry for each other. We both knew she loved her father and the Patron, and I could not compete with her dead husband, but she said she liked my kisses best. So like a good son, I delivered like it was Mother’s day. Well, Mother’s day at my Mama’s house.

She had taught me exactly the way she liked it, and I got plenty of practice. We spent some time like that, embracing and running our hands over the other’s body in ways and to places a mother and her child never do. Affection, arousal and passion were part of every movement.

She had spent the last 40 hours in the Chief’s bed, ministering to him in every way. She whispered how she regretted spending her first night with the Patron, she should have gone up the mountain to her father first. Not that it would have done any good, the Chief was unwilling to leave his home until he had his fun surprising me with my future wife and her shadow. Even then, the suspicions we would have shared were colored by personal dislike of Grisha, so they could not be trusted those feelings until they were backed by hard medical evidence, gather by the children and based on rather skimpy evidence (certainly not “probable cause”), to overcome the old witch’s months of subversive work.

Now, after the shock and self-disappointment Marta needed a little TLC, of the XXX variety, from her favorite forbidden pleasure. When it was time to learn such things she made sure I knew just what to do for her pleasure.

She had told my future wives she needed a shower and left the Chief in their tender care. They were topless in their bikini bottoms and the Chief was delighted.

After about 15 minutes when we were wrapped up in the kiss, feeding Marta’s soul with the affection I gave her best, she started to yearn for other pleasures. I responded. First I showered kisses on her scared face, her single eye, her torn ears and sweet neck. There were no words needed. Marta was looking for something else I gave her best, but after the appetizer some anticipation and warm-up were part of the gift. I starting with my lips working down her body, over her sweet breasts, sagging now but so comforting still, that fed me when her sister died. Next the kisses trailed over her belly which was my pillow so many nights as a child. Then she moved to turn over, inviting more attentions. I rained many little kisses on her back, giving her purest relaxation to tired flesh. Then I was more focused as I reached her bottom, where the soft mounds of flesh was a delight for me to give her loving bites, and hickeys with plenty of suction. Since her husband died long before I was conceived it was a pleasure only I was allowed.

I worked towards the center, at the top of her cleft, taking freedoms with my lips and tongue as she began to moan in anticipation. She wanted some selected attentions there. The gentle instinctive lovings that were doubly forbidden were something I taught her.

I still recall the way she jumped the first time my tongue touched her doubly forbidden flesh.

I had started such acts when I was younger because, like all boys, the primate brain that is underneath our human mind is curious about that part of a woman’s body, and is driven to explore that attractive, and sometimes brightly colored, part of a female. But early on Marta was not interested so didn’t get too far. Then one day, after learning my college grades, as a reward for my accomplishments, Marta deliberately granted me complete freedom with her body as my reward. She explicitly gave me leave to test her, to take all I wanted from her body, both her pain and pleasure. She said she knew every man had urges he did not dare to reveal, not even to his mother. Those unspoken secrets were what she granted. Because we were special to each other, the rules of others did not apply to us.

She knew me well. First she suggested that I might tie her and kiss her bottom with the whip, which I had never done. I was unlikely to find a girl who would willingly allow such acts as she was, and the unwilling girls are always more bother than they are worth. She saw I was tempted. I saw she was willing. “If you hurt me, I will know that it is love and will treasure it, holding close the pain. Plus, after you make my flesh glow I know how you will kiss me ... then I will know the full range of your love.”

She knew that such things were not beyond my imagination, we had watched “The Story of O” together, we were both especially taken by the scene where O screams for Nora and demands to be whipped after being given to strangers. While Marta was not into pain in general, she was willing to satisfy my curiosity and urges while testing the waters. She considered herself young enough for such extraordinary games.

I shed tears and said I could not do bring that physical pain to the woman who fed me at her breasts. However, she was an attractive woman in my eyes, and there were a few indulgences I was curious about. She encouraged me to release my imagination, so I whispered some ideas. She smiled and went to prepare her body. When all was ready I explored her bottom with my lips and tongue, first the soft cheeks and then the crease between. As I moved lower it made us both uncomfortable, but that was only the strangeness of the first steps. She had cleaned herself in anticipation, so when I finally gave myself leave to explore and molest her puckered flesh, she forced herself to relax and allowed us both to learn of the pleasurable sensations awaiting bold lips and a probing tongue, going where none had gone before, in through the “out” door.

We were both delighted at the sensations we both found, she enjoyed it enough that soon enough she insisted on returning the favor “with something larger than a tongue.” I was more than willing. Since then sodomy was a very infrequent act between us. But on special occasions we gave each other the forbidden pleasures as a very private gift.

Today I returned to these forbidden spots on her body. She knew me so well, I found she prepared herself for what we both desired.

I rimmed, prodded and explored, causing her to gasp and strain to stay in place as I molested her most private spot. I heard her sobs and cries of outrageous sensations as she buried her face in a pillow, lest the noise draw others. This was private and very special between us, the most forbidden pleasure between the most forbidden of couples.

When I finally had my fill I moved down from the puckered flesh, moving to the juncture of the start of her valley and the deep opening where my cock would visit when we were both ready to put my flesh in hers.

Marta’s womanly valley was wet with the rich liquor of her arousal after the appetizer. I had her turn over, then came at her from between her legs, and supped on her body’s rich bounty of desire, making the obscene noises of gluttony as I could not restrain myself. I sucked up the pure liquid essential taste of the woman I loved so much. Every few moments I moved my mouth to hers, so her tongue could eagerly share in the taste of her body from my lips. Is any sharing more intimate? More special?

Finally I continued the journey of my tongue and lips up her valley, to the point at the front, where I knew her most intense pleasures waited the lashes of my carefully taught tongue.

I lashed as I was taught. Up and down, left to right, with just the right amount of pressure, holding her tight as she strained and jerked from my tongue lashings. We had done this many times before, it was another of her lessons, an advanced lesson since there was a fine line between pleasure and “too much.” I carefully drove her to the heights of pleasure and beyond, with no thought of quarter asked or given.

“My son is so good to this old lady ... you have so many young ripe lovers but you still make time for me ... It is my greatest gift.”