Here is Chapter 2 of 3 of the Island of I. I strongly suggest you read Chapter 1 for this to make any sense. I have enjoyed your comments on the story so far and very much look forward to your thoughts on this installment of the story. Several readers have asked about the time frame. I deliberately left it vague although the setting is not modern. I'm thinking late 1940s - early 1950s. Apologies for any and all anomalies.
As always, this is a work of fiction and all characters exist solely within the confines of the story and in my imagination. Enjoy!
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"Mother!" I sobbed, sitting straight up in my bed, my body convulsing with waves of pleasure. Sunlight streamed through my open windows as I came into myself again, first registering that my hand was wrapped around my aching and still erect penis, my fingers and wrist coated with semen. My member was dark and angry, jutting through the fly of my pajamas. I slowly unwound my fingers which ached with effort and marveled at the amount of semen that covered my hand and rested in sticky clumps all around the crotch of my pajamas.
I moaned softly as memories of the...was it really a dream that I had just had? Images of Mother's naked body raced through my mind, swiftly followed by the insane images of her being raped...no, willingly fucked by some nightmarish creature who looked like me...the very thought sending aftershocks of pleasure coursing through me. I wondered if I was going mad to be dreaming of such things. I heard the faint murmurs of voices below and glancing at the clock beside my bed was surprised to see that it was nearly ten in the morning. I had overslept...thankfully, it was Sunday and I owed Father no labor today.
Then I recalled Mother's sleepwalking last night and had a sudden and urgent need to check on her. I swung my legs out of bed, wincing at the sore muscles and then as I started to rise up, stopped in stunned amazement and stared at the knees of my pajamas. They were torn and dirty as if I had been kneeling on a rough, wooden floor, filthy with dust like I might have encountered in...a secret passage behind my parents' bedroom. "Oh, Lord!" I moaned. Had I had a nightmare or had last night actually happened?
With my heart racing and my body trembling, I staggered to the shower, running it hot to sooth my aching body and then running it icy cold to clear my head which spun with confusion as I tried to sort dream from reality -- an effort I failed at as in addition to whatever strangeness had occurred to me and mother, the images of Antonia and her son committing incest joined the bizarre thoughts already present in my mind.
It was with a heavy and confused heart that I emerged from my room, angling first towards Mother's bedroom where I found the door open and the room in perfect order, but empty. Both relieved and yet disappointed, I slowly made my way downstairs and hearing laughter and talk coming from the kitchen, cautiously emerged through the swinging doors.
Mother and Hector were sitting at the plain kitchen table...a plate full of fruit in front of my mother and a heaping plate of eggs and bacon in front of Hector. Antonia was standing behind him and all three had been talking only to stop at my arrival to turn and smile at me.
"John...my sleepyhead, finally awake!" Mother said laughingly as she rose from her seat. I was struck by her cheerfulness -- there being none of the almost always ever present sadness in her face or demeanor. I was also struck by her casual appearance -- Mother who usually wore long, billowy dresses was dressed more like a teenaged girl, having donned a pair of what I believe are called capris -- tight fitting slacks that tapered off at mid-ankle. With it, she was wearing what I believed was one of my older blue chambray work shirts, knotted and tied just below her breasts, exposing the alabaster white of her slender stomach. Her hair had been pulled up and coiled into some sort of bun and even without a sign of makeup, she looked more beautiful than a motion picture star at a premiere.
She took three strides to me and gave me a quick hug, pressing herself against me for a moment, the feel of her large, pert breasts giving evidence that she was without a bra. She pecked me on the cheek and then began tugging me by the arm to come to the table. "I was thinking I'd have to come up there and wake you up myself," Mother chortled, sitting me next to her.
"And I told her that you needed your rest," added Antonia, leaning over me to set a plate laden with eggs and bacon before me, her huge breast flattening against my arm as she moved in, lingering as she turned her head and smiled at me, saying, "Young men need their rest as they often exert themselves more than they realized." I felt my face begin to burn as I detected a tone of amused accusation in her voice. Had she or her son noticed me peeping at their lovemaking the night before?
"Dig in, John," Mother urged me, placing a hand on my arm in a gesture of easy familiarity. "I know you and Hector plan to continue your work on the pool today and it's such a lovely day, I thought I might help!"
I stared at her in surprise...stunned by her offer and still mulling over her change of demeanor. Although still a virgin, I had heard the comments, albeit mostly in the gym locker room made by mostly boy-men who were virgins themselves, about the change in a woman that a good night's sex could induce. My dreams echoed in my head...Mother in the throes of a fantastical orgasm and again I wondered if my dreams had basis in fact somehow. Finally, I composed myself enough to say, "That's wonderful, Mother...just, please don't overtax yourself."
Hector swallowed a mouthful of breakfast and gave Mother a smile that bordered on the lewd and said, "Yes, Missus Halloran, it will be our pleasure to have you with us." Even in my state of advance shock, I could see Hector's eyes roaming lasciviously over Mother's shapely figure and while I wasn't surprised to feel a flame of jealousy in my heart, I was disconcerted to feel a sense of pride in his admiration of my mother.
Soon enough we found ourselves at the bottom of the pool -- all three of us working hard scrubbing the slime and crud from the walls of the pool, our bodies all growing hot and sweaty. Hector and I had the luxury of doffing our shirts, allowing our now deeply tanned upper bodies to gleam with perspiration while Mother resolutely soldiered on, my old work shirt darkening and molding itself to her body -- her nipples becoming nearly visible as they seemed to be constantly hard, outlined by the wet chambray. I could see the scratch marks on Hector's back, but Mother either didn't notice or chose not to comment on them.