I awakened truly rested, for the first time in weeks. The reason became clear rather quickly - I had been allowed to oversleep! This itself was a startling discovery, since mi mamá is known to be fanatically conscientious about my consistent, timely attendance at escuela de comunidad.

Let me introduce myself: I am Donato Ignatio De La Rosa (not my whole name, of course - just what I go by), and I live ... well maybe that isn't such a good idea. If I tell you where I live, I probably shouldn't tell my story - and I think you would like my story. And yes, I realize that both of my given names have Italian roots - blame my mother!

Anyway, at the time of this tale, I am about 13 years old, and my friends call me "Don," or sometimes el Don. Early on, some of them tried to call me "Iggy," but the consequences became too painful for them.

The el Don tag came about because my father is el patron, holding ownership of a number of small cottages. As rental properties, these cottages are the principal source of our family income. The highest rents we get come from the touristas, who will take a beach-side cottage for a few days, up to a month - or more rarely, an entire season - but most of our tenants are longer-term, local people, and their rents are much lower.

Anyway, back to the story...

So ... I found myself uncharacteristically wide-awake, yet still in my bed; while I should have been sitting in a classroom, listening to a boring lecture. That was my first clue that things were going to be different.

Recovering from my shock, I got out of bed and wrapped myself in a light terrycloth robe. I'm not particularly body-shy - none of my family was. I'd often seen both of my parents, and others as well, in the nude. I'm not very fond of the feel of perspiration on my skin though, and the terrycloth does a fair job of wicking it away.

As I left my room, I became aware of the near-complete silence in the house. This was disturbing, as it indicated that I might have been left completely alone in the house, without having been given any warning or reason. I should have at least heard the normal noises made by our housekeeper, Lucia, as she goes about her business.

I wandered into the kitchen, expecting to find her preparing food, but was greeted by an empty room. She apparently hadn't completely forgotten about me, though - there was a plate set at my usual breakfast chair, with some fruit, and bread, and cheese, covered by one of those funny little screen umbrellas. She'd also left me a full glass of milk, covered by a saucer to protect it from the ubiquitous flies.

This situation was abnormal, but clearly I was on my own for breakfast from this point forward. Not having any better plan, I sat down and ate until I was full, depositing the leftovers in the refrigerator after I finished.

Leaving the kitchen, I resumed wandering around in an attempt to find another living soul to inhabit my world. My father's office was empty, the only evidence of any recent occupation being a used coffee service on his desk. My mother's sewing room was likewise vacant, but she normally kept it so well ordered that you'd never know how long she had been gone anyway.

Continuing my trek, I approached my parents' bedroom, and at last began to hear the sound of human voices. I found this to be reassuring, even though I couldn't actually make out any words. Simply hearing other people propelled me toward the source of the sound.

As I approached my parents' private chamber, I slowed, as it became evident that the reason I couldn't make out any words was: there weren't any. Just moans and sighs, groans and grunts. I knew I should have turned away, and perhaps gone back to my own room, but for some reason I felt compelled to continue.

Our home has internal doors, but they are rarely closed. On this particular day, the door to my parents' bedroom stood open, just as it usually did. What made this day different from any other day that I had stood in that doorway, was that my parents' bed was occupied! That, and the fact that the occupants were clearly (even to my young mind) engaged in sexual intercourse!

Yes, I should have left immediately, but it was an opportunity too good to waste: first-hand observation of mature adults in sexual congress isn't an experience our culture normally allows a fourteen-year-old boy. Why is that? How else is one to learn the proper way to conduct such activities? Needless to say, I stayed and watched, grateful for the opportunity to observe my parents in action.

It was educational to note that the female of the species, while theoretically reluctant to consent to the act, derives many times the pleasure from sex that her partner does. This was self evident as I listened and watched her body go through the throes of passion at least half a dozen times, before my father reached his peak and collapsed.

Afterwards, they lay together and stroked each other slowly and tenderly for awhile That would have been a really good time for me to retreat, unnoticed, but still I watched in envy, wishing (as boys do) that I could experience both the passion they had, and the tenderness they showed each other.

I should have left, but then it was too late. She turned her head toward the door and I was caught! Not only that, I was shocked to discover that it was not my mother, but Lucia, who had caught me! I backed away quickly, and as silently as I could, I ran for my room.

...

My father didn't follow me, as I expected he would. No, instead, it was Lucia who came to my room, and sat on my bed as I hid under the covers. She quietly and gently stroked my back, as I waited for the killing blow to fall.

I know what you must be thinking: it was not I who had done a great wrong - other than perhaps a minor invasion of privacy - but my father and Lucia! Why should I fear retribution, being a mere witness to their sin?

What the question leaves unaccounted for, is that at fourteen, a boy isn't sure of very much in his world. He has likely already experienced a number of head-on collisions with the alpha male in his home, and has come up second best every time. By that age, it has also become readily apparent that being right doesn't confer any protection from one's father's wrath. There will always be a successful argument that whatever bad happens, it is one's own fault!

When I realized that thirty minutes had passed, and I still had a heartbeat, I pulled the covers off my head and found Lucia, watching me with a sad smile.

An important thing you should realize, at this point, is that Lucia has been a part of my life since the day I was born. She kept house for my family beginning with the retirement of her mother, who kept house for my grandparents. Lucia is also a very beautiful woman, which fact carries its own baggage.

Like every other pubescent boy, I had fantasies about sex with the women I knew best - beginning with my mother. You don't like to hear that? Too bad. Every boy does it! Besides, my mother was gorgeous! For most, it remains a fantasy, and eventually they focus on other targets, but perhaps for a few, it eventually goes a little further.

I was fortunate in that I already had an available secondary target that appeared in my home on a daily basis. That was Lucia.

I was aware on a visceral level that Lucia loved me like a son. No surprise there, I loved her in the same way I loved my mother. It should be no great surprise that, my adolescent daydreams about sex with a mother figure starred Lucia just as often as they did my natural mother and those dreams had the added advantage of not being laden with incest guilt.

So, I sat there, staring at one of the major objects of my masturbatory fantasies, my mouth hanging open, as my mind turned cartwheels.

Why were Lucia and my father having sex? (Yes, I know. In view of what I had just witnessed, it is a stupid question.)

Did Lucia no longer love her husband?

Did my father no longer love my mother?

Where in the world was my mother, anyway?

When was my father coming to kill me?

Eventually, I was able to give voice to that last question, which provoked an unexpected reaction in Lucia...

To be exact, she doubled over in laughter! After humiliating me for an eternity (I was being laughed at, after all!) she finally managed to choke out an explanation.

"Your father doesn't know you saw us! Even if he did, he would be too embarrassed to punish you for watching!"

"If he thinks that what you did together is wrong, then why does he do it?" I retorted.

Sobering quickly, she replied, "It is never as simple as that. There are many things about which you remain uninformed."

"So inform me!" I demanded. "Every time I think I know what the rules are, something happens to knock them all down! I'm getting tired of trying to do right!"

"What do you want to know?" she asked softly.

"To start with, where is Mamá? Does she know about you and Papá? Why does she put up with it?"

Lucia took a deep breath (which caused me no end of distraction) and replied.

"Your mamá has gone to St. Maarten to help your grandmother. Her sister called last evening, after you had gone to sleep, saying that her mother had been injured. She has need of a caregiver, and your aunt has a job. She can't just drop everything to go stay with your grandmother, so your papá put your mamá on the first available flight to St. Maarten."

"How long will she be gone?"

"We think it will be about six weeks."

I thought about that for awhile before I responded.

"Okay. That answers the first question, but I can't miss six weeks of school just because she's out of town. Someone needs to wake me on time tomorrow and from then on."

"That is my fault, I'm afraid," Lucia nodded. "In the confusion of getting your mother ready to go, we didn't discuss the need to prepare you for school, and this morning, I ... was distracted..."

"Which brings us back to the other questions..."

Another sigh heaved in that marvelous bosom, and I had to fight my own distraction.

"The truth is, your mamá knows that your papá and I are sometime lovers. We do not rub it in her face, and as far as I know, she isn't specifically aware of this morning's ... escapade ... but I doubt that it would come as a surprise to her.

"She tolerates it because she has come to love your papá very deeply, and she knows his need for me goes beyond mere lust. She and I have also come to love each other as sisters."

Her wording confused me, and sounded a bit too precise, but at that moment finding the catch was beyond my meager abilities. Instead of attempting to be clever, I opted for surly.

"That sounds very convenient for the two of you."

"Ask her about it, if you want," she replied, gently, "but you will only embarrass the both of you."

It didn't appear that Mamá was to be discarded, and I could tell when I was losing the engagement, so I decided to change tactics.

"What of Carlos? Where does he fit in? Don't you love him any more? What about your children? Don't you care how they will feel about it?"

"So many questions!" she dithered. "Slow down! I still have my job to do, and I can't spend all day just explaining the last twenty years of our lives!

"I'll tell you what I will do, though. For the rest of today, you can follow me around as I do my work. I'll try to answer your questions and explain things as best I can.

"Anything that we don't deal with, today, however, will have to wait until after school tomorrow. We may even have to stretch things out over several days. I ask only one thing in return."

"And what is that?" I demanded.

"Only that you refrain from discussing these things with anyone other than me or your papá, until you know and understand the whole story."

I thought about it, and concluded that I would likely open a discussion on this topic with my father at whatever point Hell started shipping out icicles. Her request hinted that there were some with whom she would rather not share these secrets, and what she wanted came dangerously close to a promise of perpetual silence. She didn't actually cross that line, though, so I decided to cooperate, for the moment.

"I'll agree to that, and no more for now, but you must answer all my questions fully and honestly," I pressed.

"Agreed," she said, smiling. "I think you will not be sorry."

...

Lucia was true to her word. I followed her around as she did housework, asking my questions, and she provided answers unhesitatingly. Some of those answers were very surprising.

At one point, it dawned on me that, in addition to working as our housekeeper, Lucia was also a tenant. The cottage that she and her family occupied actually sat on the residential grounds, a little way off from the hacienda. The more I thought about it, the more worrisome it became. Being completely artless, I finally had to ask a blunt question:

"Lucia, does Papá require you to provide him with sex as partial payment of your rent? Or as one of your housekeeping duties?"

She whirled to face me, and the shocked expression on her face would likely have been answer enough, but she had pity on me in my ignorance.

"Oh no, mi muchacho precioso! Your papá would not take advantage of anyone in that way!"

Folding me in her arms she crushed me to her chest, setting off a wild surge of hormones that had a predictable effect on my body. Fortunately, she was a little taller than me, so my rampant member did not make the kind of impression on its desired target that it might have.

When my mind finally came home to roost, I became aware of her soft reassurances of Papá's basic good nature, just in time to realize that she was going to say something important.

"I suppose I must tell you the whole story," she reluctantly observed. "Your papá and I have been lovers for a very long time. Since we were about your age, in fact.

"As I serve your family, my mother served before me..." she began.

...

As far as Lucia knew, her own mother did not have an intimate relationship with my grandfather, but she kept his house in order, and lived in the same little cottage that Lucia now occupied, until he died.

Lucia and my father were nearly the same age - he being the older by a few months.

They had been playmates practically since birth, and it wasn't uncommon to find either her mother or my grandmother wet-nursing both babies simultaneously - though they occupied positions were at opposite ends of the social spectrum, they worked together to insure that the children were taken care of. It was the accepted way to do things.

When illness took my grandmother, Papá was only about five years old, and Lucia's mother, for all intents and purposes became his de facto mother as well.

As they aged and grew, the relationship between Lucia and Papá changed in all of the normal ways, until puberty hit them both, like simultaneous freight trains. At that point, they had become fast friends, but the relationship was continually strained by sexual tension - although they could not recognize it for what it was.

Everything came to a head one afternoon, as the two of them made their way home from school. Pedro, an older boy who lived in a house along their normal route home, had taken notice of Lucia's recent physical development, and had decided that he was exactly who she needed to introduce her to the adult mysteries of passion and sex.

He accosted the pair as they walked, pushing Papá to the ground, and grabbed Lucia's arm in a vise-like grip. As he attempted to drag her into the bushes, Papá managed to get his feet under him and went on the offensive.

There was really no contest - Pedro was a very big boy, and visited a great deal of damage upon Papá, but my father was persistent. He succeeded in preventing the larger boy from progressing with his planned debauchery, and eventually inflicted enough pain that Lucia managed to break free, after which she ran to the hacienda, as fast as she could, to get help.

In retaliation, the frustrated Pedro proceeded to beat Papá to a bloody pulp, and then fled to his own house, leaving his victim to lay unconscious, in the road.

When my grandfather arrived at the scene, guided by Lucia and accompanied by her father, his first priority was to see to the safety and well-being of his son, but as soon as the boy was safely ensconced at home, and someone had been dispatched to collect the local physician, he and few of his loyal staff paid a visit to Pedro's father, with Lucia in tow to provide eyewitness testimony.

It quickly became clear where Pedro had acquired his social skills. His father was completely impenitent of his son's behavior, saying that Papá should have minded his own business and "let the little puta get what she deserved!"

Lucia's father was again among those in attendance, and needless to say, took umbrage with that statement. He proceeded to violently demonstrate his displeasure upon the offender's body. It was apparently very impressive to the young girl.

When all was said and done, Pedro and his father were no longer part of the village landscape. No one ever spoke about it, but Lucia wasn't sure that they were part of any landscape, except maybe as fertilizer.

The most significant outcome of the debacle was that Papá became Lucia's hero. Although he clearly did not defeat his opponent, he did manage to preserve her virtue, and in her mind that meant it belonged to him. Having come to that conclusion, she made her feelings clear to everyone who mattered, both in his family and in her own.

All of the adults were appalled, of course, that such a young girl would presume to speak so, and at first no one would believe that she meant it. When they finally did believe, it seems, her father did not share my grandfather's amusement, and that nearly destroyed their life-long friendship.

Eventually, everyone whose opinion mattered came to realize that opposing her in this would only serve to alienate her, and that would result in more long-term harm than simply ignoring it. Once the fighting was all over, in Lucia's mind, if not yet in body, she belonged to Papá.

In order to meet her self-imposed obligations, she became his nurse, personally seeing to, or at least assisting in, his care as his body lay healing in bed. She was the first person he saw when he opened his eyes each day, and the last one he saw before falling asleep. More often than not, at those times, she was dressed for bed, and her thin, almost transparent gown did little to conceal her young charms from his gaze.

As a result, she was privy at a very young age to the effects that such a sight can have on a young man's body. Long before he recovered any ability to move around on his own, she had become intimately familiar with every part of that body, short of actually engaging in any form of sex.

His bruises did eventually show signs of healing, and he had no broken bones or damage to internal organs. As he became stronger, he was able to leave the bed for short periods, in order to take meals and deal with sanitary issues. Lucia still insisted on bathing him, however, so as to enforce her right to see and touch her hero.

When sponge baths were no longer necessary, she still attended him as he soaked in the large bathtub. It took some convincing, but she finally got his (and everyone else's) acceptance of the necessity to occupy the tub with him. Of course, that resulted in educating him about her body.

The day finally came when she judged him well enough to deal with the reality of their new relationship. After getting him settled into bed for the evening, instead of turning off the lights and leaving the room, she climbed onto his lap!

Papá may have been shocked, but his body knew what to do, and his manhood rose to the occasion. Lucia was more than pleased, and she promptly took the situation in hand. Two hands, actually. With one hand, she stood his rampant member straight up, and with the other, she opened her body's treasure.

Straddling him, she lowered herself onto his pike-staff until the feeling of stretching at the mouth of her vagina was overcome by the complaints from her hymen. Stopping momentarily, she took a deep breath, and rising up only slightly, she dropped down to envelope his entire member.

She had expected pain, but nothing like what she got! It hurt so badly, that she couldn't even breathe, much less scream. Her eyes were immediately blinded by tears.

Likewise, Papá, witnessing her distress also began to weep, and he gathered her into his arms to try and comfort her. It was exactly the right thing to do.

Because of that, several things happened that tended to mitigate the problem: his erection flagged a bit, and that, together with having Lucia lay on his chest, meant that the strain on her previously-untried sex was immediately somewhat reduced.

Secondly, his desperate embrace convinced her that her painful sacrifice was neither ignored nor undervalued. That went a long way toward making her feel better, even if it were psychosomatic.

Third, since the first two factors allowed her to begin relaxing, the pain began to quickly fade. This allowed her to perceive the beginnings of the pleasure to which she knew she was entitled.

Unfortunately for her, her lover was young and had not yet learned any level of control. He immediately fired of a salvo of semen that left her asking, "Is that all there is?"

Fortunately for her, her lover was young, and had that capacity of youth to recover almost instantly. After a short rest, during which they remained coupled, he began to move again, and this time he carried her over the brink of her first penis-induced orgasm. It wasn't the last one she had that evening.

From then until Papá turned eighteen, she occupied his bed every night, all night long. Neither family was happy about it, but at the bottom, it was easier to give in than to fight it forever, and possibly lose both children.

The final capitulation was sealed when Lucia's mother instructed her in the use of the rhythm method of birth control - barrier and pharmacological methods not being readily available in our country, at the time.

...

Thus it was well-established in my mind that the liaison between Lucia and Papá was voluntary on her part, and had begun long before any business relationship they had. Every answer, however leads to more questions.

"What happened?" I asked. "Why did the two of you marry other people instead of each other?"

Lucia continued folding laundry as she considered how to answer.

"Well, even then, the social distance between your father and I was considerable," she said. "Our parents were unanimous in their opinion that a union between us would not be proper. I didn't care. I would have been happy to continue as just his concubine, but..."

...

On Papá's completion of high-school requirements, the families saw a new opportunity to intervene in the relationship. Collusion between the parents resulted in him being enrolled in a military academy located in Madrid, while Lucia was offered an opportunity to study at a secretarial school in Santiago.

She refused to go, knowing that it would be bad for their relationship, but he had no real choice. Once he had been accepted into the academy, his father made it a matter of personal honor for him to attend and excel.

Once the couple was physically separated, the parents made every effort to insure that their children had and took advantage of every opportunity to engage socially with others of their age, despite their own wishes.

At the same time, the parents took every opportunity to obfuscate communications between the young lovers, frequently intercepting their correspondence.

That they succeeded in breaking up the couple is a tribute to the power of despair. Without constant attention, love and passion will eventually wither on the vine, not matter how strong it is in the beginning, and the machinations of the two families made sure that the needed attention was lacking.

Papá returned home, four years later, to find that his former lover had become wife to another - a local fisherman. The husband was known to be a good and kind man, and Lucia, while not obviously ecstatic about the situation, seemed content.

It was only because of that, that when his own father all but arranged a marriage for him - to the daughter of a business associate on St Maarten - he did not rebel.

His new bride was as lost as he was, in her own way, but she saw it as her duty to make the best of her marriage, even though it hadn't been of her choosing either. Wary of each other at first, eventually the two became allies for the purpose of derailing the excessive influence that the parents had come to see as their due. Such alliances often grow into deeper feelings, and that is just what happened to the newlyweds.

Soon after the wedding, the lonely years began to weigh upon my grandfather, and it seemed that once his son was properly married to an "appropriate" woman, his interest in struggling against poor health waned. Not long after I was conceived, he took to his bed for the last time, and never rose again. He was buried before I was even a detectable lump in my mother's abdomen.

...

By this time Lucia was busy preparing the evening meal, but I was still underfoot, asking questions.

"Okay, so the families messed things up for you and Papá, but then you were both married to other people. How and why did you become lovers again?"

"Strangely," she replied, with an odd look, "you were involved in that..."

...

On the death of my grandfather, Papá became el patron, and Lucia's mother felt that it was time for a change in her life, as well. Her own husband had also passed away by then, and she didn't feel she had the energy to manage a household for such a young family. She gave notice of her intent to leave service and move in with her son, who lived some distance away.

With both Lucia and Papá safely married to others, she petitioned for her daughter to become her successor as chief housekeeper for the family. Lucia already knew how to do the job, having assisted her mother for many years, and being wed to a fisherman, she could appreciate the perks that came with the job. Without too much thought on the matter Papá agreed to the proposal, contingent upon acceptance by Lucia and Carlos.

So it was that Lucia's mother retired, moving in with her son, and Lucia and Carlos moved into the cottage she had formerly occupied. In grateful appreciation for her long years of service, Papá established a trust fund which would yield a small pension for the remaining lifetime of the retired housekeeper.

Lucia moved smoothly into the role vacated by her mother, not even allowing the household to feel a bump in the road. On her own initiative, she made the well-being of her employer's pregnant wife her first priority. By then, the phrase "prenatal care" was actually being heard more often in my country, and Lucia saw to it that la señora did not miss a single doctor's appointment or vitamin pill.

Her dedication in this regard may have had something to do with the fact that she hadn't yet had any children of her own - at that time, she even feared that she might be barren. Those fears were later proved groundless. In any case, helping to care for her former lover's wife and developing child gave her a great deal of satisfaction.

Working in such close proximity to both Papá and Mamá had a down side, however: each time she saw them together, her memories of his embrace would make her heart skip a beat.

It was Mamá who finally brought things to a head, perceiving the tension between them in that way that only a pregnant woman can. She demanded that both Lucia and Papá explain why they so often avoided looking directly at each other, and why, when either of them thought no one was looking, they spent many long minutes gazing doe-eyed at the other.

Papá refused to talk, but Lucia knew that it would be pointless to hide the truth. Over his objections she told Mamá everything...

After hearing the whole story, Mamá closed her eyes and sat in silence for a few minutes, and then she asked Lucia, "Do you love your husband?"