Sonnymoon Cruise

The ship's horn blasted me awake. I was half-asleep. Great, I thought, we've hit an iceberg. I hope they have enough lifeboats. Where are the life vests? Then I realized, it was daylight, you don't hit icebergs in daylight, they only come out at night. I certainly came last night! I cranked my head, and saw mountains in the distance. Was that one of those floating islands? We were at sea; can you hit floating islands in the day? I then came fully awake with the next blast of the horn; we were coming into the new port. A sister ship was passing us on our side. Were we port or starboard? Maybe starboard 'cause we saw lots of stars at night. Not port, port was a wine, but we had found a better one to imbibe. I looked in the mirror. My hair was a mess. And my hair-do too. The delta was a sticky sodden mess, and my coif a rat's-nest. Better to just wash and rinse. What the hell, we were on vacation, right? I was on my son's honeymoon, and the poor guy hadn't gotten laid yet!

Should I fix that? Actually, that was something I could fix, if I wanted to. Dead puppies, no; broken engagements, no: live pussy, yes, - mend his heart, yes, - save his life, YES! Give him birth, give him life; share his berth, share myself - - that was the question wasn't it. The horn sounded yet again, like God blowing his nose. Samuel slept the sleep of the just - or just plain exhausted. He had really given it his all, last night. I never had that it like that from Jacob, or my lover. But my son had made me see stars last night. Cum an ocean of orgasms. Tasted my wine, and made me drunk from climaxing so much. And yet he had not taken me, or even tried to, he had respected me, even when I was at my most vulnerable.

I was proud of him. I felt sorry for him too. And for me. I asked myself, what bit of virtue did I have that was so valuable to hold back. I wouldn't do it for wealth, I'd spend it. I wasn't married, he wasn't married. What was the difference between what we had already done, and actually doing it, except one of degree? There wasn't going to be any need for birth control. Nobody was going to know. Why not, we both wanted to - yes I wanted to. Samuel had wanted to for years. Now I had warmed to the idea for a few days, and I wanted to too!

I admitted it, to myself, I admitted it. But it had to be special, it couldn't be by accident. I mean, it almost had been, but it shouldn't be. It should be by mutual consent, and a special occasion, like the first time you do it with a lover. He was my lover, really, now you have to say he was, after all we had been through. It should be like the first time you . . . you do it on your wedding night! This was my . . sonny-moon! I was Samuel's, not his consolation prize, rather his surprise consummation! "Mom, don't you get it, it's you! I'm in love with you." Only, now I got it. I was certain that this Sammy-moon would be a new chapter in our lives. What's a little incest among family, anyway? Right? Even though it might be wrong for some, it was going to be good for us. LACH HYMEN! To Life! You should pardon the pun. No virgins in this bed though.

I certainly wasn't innocent; I had bitten the apple of temptation long ago, and tasted the sweetness of forbidden fruit. I knew Sam wanted to nibble on the 'fruit of the knowledge of good and Eden', also. God knows, he had tasted all the places I had to offer, except that which was sampled not with lips and tongue, but with carnal knowledge. So be it, amen. Thank heavens, I didn't believe in hell, 'cause I think this was going to need a big redemption, to make it kosher with the Almighty. On the other hand, look at all the in-house fiddling that went on in the Bible. If they were made righteous, in the sight of the Lord, maybe there was hope for the rest of us sinners. Who knows, right?

My son the innocent, who wanted to sin with mama, stirred. I was suddenly famished. I got us dressed, and to the breakfast table and we spent an hour sampling everything they had. Jacob would have loved the salmon. They had run out of onion bagels though. We went into port, and did gift shopping for Janice and others. I got a lovely duty-free amethyst pendant. Sam picked up two bottles of a favorite liqueur he loved, but was very expensive back in the States. In the afternoon, we hopped one of the sightseeing buses, and toured the north side of the island, famous falls and old forts, and the Governor's mansion build for a buccaneer originally. Did you know that they made more money from making and selling bacon, than being pirates? It's true! Who knew? Of course Caribbean cooking wasn't kosher; otherwise maybe they might have become caterers. Less bloodshed, more profits.

In the evening, a Big Band orchestra was playing, and we danced the night away. They had a fabulous midnight buffet smörgåsbord. We could have been rolled back to our cabin, we were so stuffed. That's one thing I learned about cruises, they feed you and feed you, everything is four star cuisine, and costs twice as much. You gain twenty pounds in two weeks, and nothing fits when you get home. So that's why you have to go naked, or go shopping when you get back. Trust me, it's true, ask anybody that's ever gone on a pleasure cruise. We didn't even want wine that night, just fell into bed, and fell asleep. Well, we managed to strip, tradition.

The ship traveled south again, and there was so much to do, even at sea. Sammy did try rock climbing, but I couldn't stand to watch, even though they put a harness on him. I kept remembering the sprained ankle I got, so I went and found a bridge game. We swam; it was our turn to dine with the captain, a charming Scandinavian gentleman who had been a commander of ships for twenty years. I asked him if that made him a Scandenavel officer? He replied that that he never had been involved in a scandal at sea, but if I was interested, perhaps he might make an exception for a woman as beautiful and alluring as myself. Of course, though, he pointed out I already had a handsome escort, to squire me around. I told you he was charming, and the very picture of the good-looking dashing Captain, white beard and all.

Then they made the announcement of which newlywed couple had won the lottery prize of gifts. That's right, we did; we won! I mean, it was nice, and it's not as if I couldn't afford all those little luxuries if we wanted. But how do you explain, sitting at the Captain's table, the name change from Madeline to mine, I was still Mrs. Covey. How do you turn the gift basket down, without embarrassing Samuel, and admitting that he got dumped at the altar, that he was on his 'honeymoon' with his mom. Plus the fact, that we had been taken for a romantic couple all over the ship by now. We had a rep for being rather lovey-dovey. What do you say? Samuel looked stunned, and was about to give it back, but I elbowed him, and said, "Thank you very much!" And took the prize basket, with all kinds of certificates and goodies. Easier that way, and less to explain. Especially if we got caught on the balcony in our birthday suits. Nu?

Among the prizes was a gift certificate for two at the ship's spa. Massages, make-over, hair, nails, and a private session in one of the whirlpool/hot tub/love-nest baths. For three hours. Private. Sound proof? Well, it was for newlyweds, it had better be, or at least next to the engine room, where loud cries of ecstasy could not be overheard. It was going to be noisy. I am very vocal, when I cum in private. I was curious to see if Samuel took after me, in that. So far, with our suite, we knew we had neighbors, and had been discreetly whimpering, when we went over the top, as we climaxed. But this was going to be a whole other 'ball' game.

After dinner, the Captain invited his table guests to take a private tour. We got to go to some areas of the ship which were not open to the public usually. Except that this was a standard tour, for the first-class passengers when they had dinner with the Commodore. We were shown the engine room, and the kitchens, the some of the crew quarters, and even the laundry (fresh sheets and towels everyday for 976 persons!). Of course the bridge was included, and I even got to steer the boat with my hands on the wheel. Though I doubt I actually had anything to do with where the vessel was going, still, I managed to miss any icebergs that were out there! We were underway to a new island, and yet more adventures, both on land, and at sea, and even underwater. Back at the cabin we snuggled in bed, and caught a program on the tube about tropical fish, then drifted off to dreamland for a well needed rest.

The morning of the tenth day, we had reservations for a submarine trip. This had been suggested by my cousin, the travel agent. She said it was something not to be missed, but was best booked in advance. She was so right! You go in this small sub, about thirty passengers, and the pilot. You're maybe 60 - 70 feet down, but the water is so clear there is plenty of light. There's coral and rocks, and shipwrecks (for artificial reefs), and fish and fishes. Schools of tropical fish, which were on the program the night before, others I didn't recognize, but all were dazzling in bright colors. Animals you otherwise only see at the aquarium were pointed out. Only down there, they are harder to spot, camouflaged. The pilot was our guide. There were sharks of several sorts. Not too scary, when there is a two-foot porthole, three inches thick, between you and those teeth. We were treated a nice size moray eel, and chanced on a small octopus. Octopi, we learned, like to hide when they heard the sub coming. And there was a large squid on the other side, but I missed it.

After lunch we had put in for our 'honeymoon' spa time. Samuel got a haircut, and I had mine trimmed and given some highlights. We both got manicures, pedicures, facials and massages together. I gave the masseuses a fifty dollar tip each, to leave us alone with the bottles of body oil, and not check back for 30 minutes. Then we gave each other some more naughty kinds of rub downs. No place was off limits, so not only did we play with each other's genitalia, but even the anus got a goose or two! Then, I took a bunch of towels, and laid them over the broad couch. It had no back, but one end was slightly raised, you know the sort. I told Sam to stretch out. I got next to him, and poured a half bottle of the oil over our already coated bodies.

Then we slithered together like to eels, mating. But we didn't screw; we just had slippery fun, rubbing against each other like those Turkish wrestlers. But we were not having any kind of conflict, just the opposite; we were involved in a mutual grappling of a love-feast. With lots of French kissing and feeling-up, but no climaxes were allowed. I promised Sammy that was for a little later. Thank goodness the masseuses knocked when they came back!! Then, as if we hadn't enough of indulging of togetherness, we showered together; the soap and shampoo were scented. I chose lavender for me, Samuel had spicy-lime. We smelled good. After a bite to eat, and a couple of drinks at the closest bar, we went back to the spa for our three hour reservation, in what was called the "Honeymooner's Deluxe Water-Nest".

It was a huge hot tub, a small heated pool, really. It had jets, and water-whirl effects, and padded broad benches, so you were up to your neck if you sat. You could stretch out on the side of the water too, on a six-foot pad that also was good for floating on the water. There was a full-sized fridge, filled with fruit drinks, and cheese and soda, and all sorts of snacks of that kind. And while no wine or booze was allowed, they had a variety of cold beer too. There was even a little floating table for drinks and food! The door had a lock; a sauna was situated on the side, the toilet and a shower on the other.

The place had all that you could ask for. Including time and privacy, and (I checked!) sound proofing. It was time to consummate our sonny-moon; the mommy-son coupling that had been gradually gaining ground, while we were voyaging at sea. I had come to accept it as inevitable. Sammy had waited for it for much longer, but never thought the day would arrive. Samuel's dearest desire was to make love to his mother. I loved my dearest son and wanted to make his desire cum true.

I reached over and took off Sam's big fluffy terrycloth robe, which they had given each of us. We got to keep them; they were part of the deal. Sammy relieved me of my robe. He hugged me, my mature breasts were full, and the erect points pushed into his chest, as he reached behind and undid the ties of my top. The strings at my neck and at the back came loose. The pressure of our bodies was the only reason that it didn't land on the floor.

I hooked my thumbs in his waistband and worked his swimsuit over his hips to fall at his ankles. Likewise, he then loosened the knots at the sides of my bottoms, and they landed next to his, as well. Sammy released his hold for a moment, my top dropped, then we were sans suits, and in each other's arms. The garments puddled at our feet, white icing with floral swirls. Sam bent over, scooped them up and tossed them into a corner. They were superfluous fig leaves, in this, our Eden.

There were steps, but we just jumped in. The lights were on, but it was soft indirect lighting. Sam found a remote on the floating table, and discovered there was mood music available. We agreed on a kind of a new-age mellow melody, that was a duet with harp and piano. Sammy took me in his arms, and sort of swayed me - swam me, in time to the music. As if I was Esther Williams, doing ballroom. And that's what this place was, a water room for balling. A bathtub for boffing. It was time to make our connection, to rejoin in body, mother and child, now man and woman.

Male and female, the Creator made them. He made them to mate, cleave; I could feel my son's manhood at my womanly cleft. I was lubricated and ready. He swung me over to an underwater seat, and lined up his shaft with my submerged cave. The Samuel eel swam in my sea-weeds, then retreated, and darted again. This time the head found the crevasse it sought, and his blunt front nudged through the portal. We both let out a sigh/gasp sound of pleasure.

But there was yet much more, to delving in the hidden depths of heated wetness. So this masthead, the prow of Sam-son's muscle, full strength, with pubic hair unshorn, entered my temple of sin and lust. His pillar pushed at the place, where Delilah delighted to entertain. He plowed where his sire had sown; he lunged into where my lover had stabbed. He went into where he had come from, and where he was going, he would cum, too. I opened for his harpoon, the spear penetrated flesh, and went deep to the heart of my center, touched bottom, bumped my womb.

For a long and sweet moment it hesitated, then began the ancient rhythm, the beat of love, the cycles of sexual swaying to instinctual intercourse. Of course, this was incest, this above all else was the lowest we could go in our base cravings, the highest of crimes of this kind. Yet it seemed to me the most sacred of loves, and the most pure of unions. Because it was a spiritual reuniting.

But the physical sensation was heightened by the forbidden nature of our passion. I was a hole, to be ravished by the peg of hardness that plugged into it again and again. Sammy's prick plied my pussy, making everything in my body feel good. My son's cock jammed in my cunt, and concentrated on making his mama cum. Our torsos were slipping together, as if still oiled. My legs were cantilevered up, supported in Samuel's gripping palms, which hitched under my knees.

We were so primed from the days of foreplay, leading up to this, that we were ready to reach the cataclysm early. Indeed, the paced quickened in a short time. I could tell by the signs of our impending boom, it was near. I felt my vagina tighten, and his strokes became erratic, with the head only going half way. Then banging, and holding it socked against me to the very root, sacks squashed on my butt. Then pounding, as the mad urge of rutting took over.

I now gave full voice to the crazy flashes that filled my brain, and radiated from the center of my entire being. "Yes! YES!! I Needd It!! I have to HAVE YOU! . . Sammy, SAMMY! OH! GOD!! MY SWEETY SON - Fuck ME . . . FUCK MOMMY, BABY, YES YES YES!! NOW . . UH, Uh NOOWW . . . I'M CUMMING I'm CUMMING on YOU, SAMMY! I'm cumming AGAIN . . AHH! Yes again, MORE, MORE . . Mmmmm . . Uuuh ooh, yes, yeess baby, ooh! that was soo good, Sammy, sweetie!" I smothered his face in kisses, and hugged him as tight as I could.

His penis was pulsing as his prick experienced the aftermath of his completed orgasm. He told me later that he had grimaced and squealed, 'I'm cumming, too, mom!', but I hadn't heard it, over my own echoed shouts of ecstasy. Still, it was obvious, by the copious flow of jism that dribbled out of my pussy that he had been equally pleasured with our screwing.

The first time had been special, planned, and mutually consensual. And Ooh-Soo-Blissful for both of us! Not a surprise exactly, but not a consolation prize, either. A sonnymoon prize that wasn't in the basket, but it was in the cards, though it was no fuck-by-luck. This was an amazing adventure that was also a journey home. It became a voyage of discovery of each other as sexual persons, people with secrets, hidden lusts, and concealed feelings. Madeline had left him at the altar (okay, canopy), she had left him altered - changed, (not 'altered' as in castrated). That had freed him so that he had finally been forced to be open about his desires for me. That was lucky, look what he would have missed!

Well, he wasn't going to miss any more chances, to make love to his horny mama. Because after a beer, washing down some cheese and crackers, we got up on the long mat, and with me kneeling, he got behind me. Then he put his long schlong in and began schtupping his mother once more. Oh YES! I loved it! I can't choose my favorite position for sex, anymore than I could choose between Janice and Samuel, as a favorite child. They are each special, and unique; precious and loved for their own selves. But, I do like doing the 'doggie'.

There is something primal and primitive about getting taken from behind. Like monkeys, rather apes; the Bonobos in this case, as they too commit mother/son incest. Animals we are, as well as being human; the raw sensation of being reamed in my cunt, by a hard cock, was positively primordial. With my asshole open to the air and his testicles banging against my clit that is so lewd, rude, crude, and naughty, nasty and nice a vice. His tool sawed in me, we were the breeding pair on the ark.

This time I was quieter, I wanted to hear my boy cum, while he squirted into his mother. It wasn't easy, because at that angle, Sammy was hitting my G-spot. I had that zing-thing making my cunny flutter, and the lotion was flooding, as the contractions overwhelmed all thinking. But clear as a bell came his voice, as he was cumming. "Oh, Yeah Mama!! I'm in, in you, I'm cumming in you!! CUM WITH ME MOM!!, NOW - NOW - NOW!!"

Pow-pow-pow the shot was spewing in my pussy, and triggering a secondary climax for me, as well. We collapsed into a spooning position. Both out of breath, and orgasms for the time being. Soon, it was nice to slip into the water, to wash off the sweat and secretions, and cool down. After, we both used the facilities to relieve our bladders; Sam got two more beers, and returned to my side. We sat on one of the benches that had jets bubbling around us.

He had to make another trip in a few minutes, as those brews went down fast. Sex is thirsty work! I had forgotten that. Had it been that long? Yes, but it wouldn't be all that long again! Not with what Samuel had confessed, about his feelings for me. Not with what had happened in the last week, and the past hour! In fact, I could see that he was regaining the wood in his lance of lust, even as we were on break. I didn't want to get sore; after all we still had - was it really only four days left, until we were back to . . - four days until the real world again.