The Forbidden Shore

"I'm going to find out when that neurologist is going to come by. I need to get my boy home. I'll be at the nurses station for a few minutes, if that's okay darling."

"I'm not going anywhere. I think I can survive without you for two minutes, but not one second more," I teased.

"Brat," she tossed over her shoulder, sweeping from the room.

About three hours later, I was given the Good Housekeeping Seal of Not Going to Die Anytime Soon and we were off. Once again, we sat in the back of Hilda's Xterra. After only about a half hour of driving, I nodded off. When I awoke again, we were already cruising through Soldotna, well on our way home. Mom was asleep, her head on my shoulder.

Every breath hurt and my headache was a nuisance, but life was good.

I put my arm around Mom and pulled her close. She murmured in her sleep and burrowed against me. I saw Hilda looking at us from the rear view mirror, smiling warmly. I sat quietly for the rest of the seventy-odd miles back to the house, letting Mom rest. When we left for home, Hilda had told me that Mom didn't sleep at all once she got to my bedside.

Our arrival home was anticlimactic. We got out of the car stiffly and trudged through about a foot of new snow and let ourselves in the side door. Boots, parkas and gloves came off mechanically and we found ourselves sitting across the kitchen table from one another.

The transition from deadly struggle to unhoped-for survival to hospital and now home was almost overwhelming. I found that I couldn't hold a thought in my head to save my life. I think my disorientation and confusion was evident to Mom, because she got up and sat in my lap hugging me.

"I'm sorry, Mom. It's all messed up inside my head. I feel like someone's been busy in there with an eggbeater."

"The neurologist said the next few days are going to be difficult, sweetheart. What you're feeling is normal."

"There's not a damn thing that's normal about it," I grumbled. I pointed a finger at my crotch. "Not even a twitch. Normally all you have to do is look at me sideways and I'm hard as a rock."

"Dr. Lanza also said that you might be out of commission for a few days that way also."

"Mom!" I spluttered. "You didn't..."

She cut me off gently. "You really did get things in tangle, didn't you? Of course I asked him, 'My son and I fuck like bunnies. When can I start doing him again?'"

"Jesus Kristus, Peter, get a grip," she said, smiling to take the edge off. "I said you had a girlfriend and knowing you, it would probably come up (pardon the expression) before too long."

"And it will," she said, kissing me again. "You should expect a few days at least before you can making your Momma the happiest woman in the state again. Now be hush and relax. I'm going to go lay a fire and we're going to sit in front of it and do nothing."

That's what we did. We got under a blanket and snuggled, both of us dozing. We both woke up around nine that evening. We were hungry, but I didn't want Mom to cook a meal, so we settled on fried bologna sandwiches and tater tots. I don't think it was what either of us envisioned as my gourmet homecoming meal, but it filled the void.

After that we went to bed and I got to do something that I thought was never going to do, ever again. I held Mom in my arms and fell asleep in our bed.

Chapter 15

For the next five or six days, I think I just about drove Mom insane. I was so happy to be home, with our future open in front of us, but with nothing stirring in the south forty, I was also impatient and short-tempered.

Intellectually, I knew that time would fix everything, but my less rational self (that part of us that makes us scared of the boogeyman as children) was afraid. Afraid that after all Mom and I had been through, that my father would get his revenge in the form of an impotent son.

No surprise, Mom read me like a book, or maybe more like a comic book, given my male insecurities. She met all of my bad tempered anxieties and frustrations with gentle humor and just the right amount of commiseration and teasing. After all, she was my Mom.

On the morning of my seventh day home, I woke up with Mom spooned against me. I felt great, but it took me a minute to realize why.

Morning wood! The game was afoot and Peter's peter was ready for play! I wanted to shout. I wanted to turn handsprings. But mostly, I wanted to give my Mom the son-loving she so richly deserved. It was time to show her just exactly how glad I was to be home.

Snuggling up close, I kissed the nape of Mom's neck. She stirred slightly and pushed back into me, mumbling in her sleep, a small smile on her lips. I kissed her again and she stirred more purposefully, slowly opening her eyes. A smile bloomed, at once tender and just a bit wicked.

"It's so nice to feel my son's hard cock pushing on my ass," she murmured. "I've been missing that stor kukk for a while."

"Well, he's back now," I whispered, licking her ear.

"Your son wants to come home now, Mom," I rasped in her ear, rubbing at her firm ass more insistently.

"I'd like that," she whispered back, pushing sinuously against me. "Momma would like that very, very much."

She reached between her thighs to grasp me, sighing happily as she rubbed me up and down her furrow, centering me for penetration.

"Unh-unh," I half-moaned, pulling away. "I want to be able to see you when I'm back inside you."

"So, it's missionary Mommy, then is it?" she asked, teasing me just a little.

Grasping her hip, I gently pulled her onto her back, rolling between her thighs a she spread her legs for me. She quickly pulled her nightgown up to her waist, as I ground against her mound, still encased in her usual white cotton panties. I could already feel her wetness spreading as I pushed my length up and down the soft fabric covering her rapidly-moistening slit.

"Oh God, what you do to me, Peter," she groaned, bucking against me. "What you do to your momma, you nasty boy!"

Mom's words were gasoline on the fire of my desire and I growled inarticulately, suddenly impatient. I couldn't get back inside my mother fast enough. Hooking my finger in the gusset of her panties, I roughly pulled them to one side and placed myself at her weeping portal, burying myself in one slow, insistent thrust. She was so wet, my hardness penetrated her depths with almost no effort.

She cried out hoarsely the moment the head of my cock separated her inner lips.

"Oh GOD! Peter! Oh God, so good!"

As my length slid fully back to its home, her eyes half closed and fluttered and her arms looped around my shoulders. When I bottomed out, she bit her lower lip, fingernails raking my skin.

We both exhaled at the same moment, "Aaahhhh!"

I stayed in her, not moving for almost a minute, savoring the exquisite, moist tightness of my mother surrounding me with her clasping cunt. Mom opened her eyes fully, staring at me intently, a small smile blooming.

"Well, are you going to lie there all day, you big, lazy lug, or are you going to get busy and fuck your Mom?" she mock-scolded. "I think I've been more than patient."

"Yes ma'am," I whispered, kissing the tip of her nose.

I withdrew from her nearly fully and began making long, even strokes, as slowly as I could stand. Part of me wanted to immediately blast Mom into orbit with a huge geyser of cum, but another part didn't want what I was feeling to end, ever.

"Oh, yes baby boy, that's it, yes, that's it, give it all to you momma," she crooned. "That's my baby."

Increasing my pace and forcefulness, I buried my head in the crook of her shoulder. One of her arms found its way around the back of my neck, running slowly through my hair, the other remaining on my back, moving up and down, stroking me. I could feel her tenderness and love flowing through her fingertips and into me, at the same time she was wrapping her legs around my hips, meeting me lustily thrust for thrust, our bodies slapping together wetly.

The combination of feelings and sensations was beyond all comprehension and description. It was tender. It was amazingly arousing, this woman bucking beneath me, giving as good as she got. It was uplifting, knowing how much she loved me. It was incredibly, ineffably nasty, being in the single most forbidden place in a son's universe, being there with an unconditional, never ending invitation.

It was sublime.

To this day it still remains completely beyond my ability to explain to anyone else other than Mom, my lover.

Time ceased to have meaning as I pumped in and out of my mother's amazing tightness. There was only her hoarse, panting exhalations in my ear, her fingers scrabbling on my skin, and the plaintive moans and jumbled endearments escaping her lips as we pleasured each other.

"Oh, Peter, oh God, so big!"

"Ja, kjaere sonn, knulle din mor, knulle din mor!"

"Yes, baby, that's it! That's it! Harder, you bad motherfucker, HARDER!"

"Knulle din mor, baby, knulle din mor!"

It was difficult enough maintaining any control inside my mother's incredible pussy after a week of involuntary abstinence, but as her cries and pleas became coarser and more and more passionate, I lost it completely.

My orgasm overran me like a runaway freight train and took me completely by surprise. At the same time I began to erupt within her, Mom must have felt my cock swelling, because her eyes flew open and she clutched me with all her strength, her voice bursting from her lips in a series of breathless, agonized shrieks.

"Peter! PETER! PEETERRRRR! Yes! YES! YESSSS!"

At the same time, I was bellowing, "Mom! Oh God, Mom! Cumming! CUMMING! MOM! MOM! MOM!"

My cock felt like a sizzling stick of meaty dynamite as I detonated. My semen seemed to flow out of me like a cataract of molten lead, a dense, viscous and scalding torrent that turned me inside out. It seemed that everything that was me was spurting from the tip of my cock in a flaming cascade and into my mother's forbidden depths, down to my very soul, leaving an empty husk behind.

As I filled her to overflowing, Mom seemed to almost be undergoing some kind of seizure, her eyes rolling up into her head, her limbs vibrating and face contorted in incomprehensible pleasure.

As I watched her writhe beneath me, I was outside of myself for the briefest of moments, taking in her pleasure. "You did this Peter," I thought to myself. "You did this. You made her feel this way, like no other man. You gave this to your mother, your lover."

As quickly as those thoughts flashed through my head, I fell back into the maelstrom of our mutual climaxes and surrendered to it completely, letting its waves wash over me.

When I came to myself, we were still locked together, bodies slick with the sweat of our passion. Mom's eyes opened and overflowed with tears as she hugged me fiercely. I was a little damp myself, that way.

After a moment, she laid back, letting out an incredulous exhalation.

"My God, Peter, my God. That was...that was..." her eyes welled again and she squeezed me so tightly I couldn't breathe.

"That was the best," I said quietly. "The best ever, in the entire history of making love, of all the people in the world who've ever fucked."

"Pretty much," Mom whispered, nodding in assent. "Welcome home, son. You momma is so happy and thankful to have you back."

"It's good to be back where I belong," I agreed, giving her a tender kiss. "Nobody loves a guy better than his Mom."

"And nobody can love a woman any better than her own son," she affirmed.

I suddenly realized my arms were trembling, as I held myself above Mom. I felt like I had done a couple thousand pushups. With the greatest of effort, I rolled off her and collapsed onto my back, Mom snuggling under my arm, her hand stroking my chest.

"All better now?" Mom teased, as though speaking to a child who had skinned his knee.

I snorted in laughter. "Do ya think?"

We settled into a delightfully comfortable, relaxed silence. It was absolute paradise, just lying there, my arm around her, feeling her breathe in and out, her own hand resting lightly over my still-pounding heart. We both nodded off, completely blissed out.

When I awoke, I had no idea what time it was. The flat, gray light that came with heavy could cover and snow flurries gave no indication of the hour. I could have been out for weeks, for all I knew. Mom was still asleep next to me, her features serene and composed. I had never seen her more beautiful.

I arose slowly, careful not to disturb her repose. I slipped on a pair of sweat pants, a ratty t-shirt and a well-worn pullover sweater. The kitchen floor was cold to my bare feet when I entered, but I didn't want to go back for my slippers. I set a pot of coffee going and made my way to the living room and the wood stove.

The embers from the previous day's fire were still glowing dully, so I had no problem starting a new blaze in short order. By the time the fire was going full blast, I could smell the coffee, so I made my way back to the kitchen.

Smiling to myself, I knew what I wanted to do next. I quickly scrambled some eggs, made a few slices of sourdough toast and put them on a tray, along with a mug of steaming black coffee. I made my way back to our bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed, lightly shaking her.

"Wake up, pretty lady. Breakfast is served," I announced.

Mom slowly stretched beneath the covers and rubbed her eyes, absently puffing a few stray hairs off her forehead.

"Mmmm. Spoiling me rotten, are you?" she purred.

"Get used to it, mother mine. I'm going to continue until you absolutely putrefy."

"How romantic," she quipped, helping herself to a piece of toast, nibbling daintily at its corner. "Thank you, Peter."

"You're very welcome," I said simply.

Mom dug in with relish, cleaning her plate in short order. She proceeded to then deliver a most un-ladylike belch after draining her mug, making me laugh.

"What's the problem?" she asked. "I was hungry. Fucking my horse-cock son is hard work. I need to replenish my battered body."

"Well, then maybe I'd better get you seconds," I leered, wiggling my eyebrows suggestively. "I have plans for you, sexy girl."

"Do your worst, you big brute." She pretended surrender, theatrically throwing her arm across her face. "Go ahead and ravish your poor, innocent, helpless, sweet mor with that enorm pikk of yours."

"Who was it who was crying out, 'Fuck me, Peter, fuck me!' earlier this morning?" I asked tartly.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Mom said primly. "You must have snuck some scarlet harlot in here behind my back, you horny animal."

As Mom was sparring with me, she shifted in the bed to get more comfortable. Her eyes suddenly widened and she shrieked, "Oh SHIT! God damn that's COLD!"

Bolting out of bed, she wrapped the comforter around her, shivering.

"Jesus H. Christ, Peter!" she gesticulated at the bed, pointing to a gigantic wet spot. "Just how much stuff did you put up me?"

"Everything I had," I replied, pulling her to me for a kiss. "Every last bit I could give my Mom-lover."

"Damn, your spunk is everywhere," she complained, suddenly clamping her hand to her crotch and scuttling to the bathroom.

"Most of it is exactly where it belongs," I said matter-of-factly, trailing behind her.

By now, Mom was on the toilet, looking between her thighs as the remains of my last visit trickled from between her puffy labia.

"If it's too messy, I can always use a rubber," I suggested.

Mom looked up at me sharply. "Don't you dare, Peter Heimdahl! Don't you dare!"

I handed Mom a warm, damp washcloth. "I love feeling your cum inside me," she said dreamily, absently wiping herself. " I even like it when it runs down my legs - it makes me feel very, very sexy," she confessed.

"So, then where's the problem?"

"None, I guess," she replied a little sheepishly. "I was just upset because that wet spot just about froze my tush off."

"Can't have that," I agreed, pulling her into my arms and grasping her sweet cheeks. "I love this tush, just love it. I would be devastated if anything happened to it."

"Now you're just being silly," she said, giving my cheek an affectionate, light slap.

Chapter 16

Later that day we sat and discussed our plans. With Gunnar gone on to his reward, things were so wide open, it was actually difficult to figure out what to do.

As far as we were both concerned, my feet would never trod the deck of the Anna ever again. We debated at length whether we should sell her, but in the end we decided that with the right captain on board, the Anna could provide a steady supplemental income for us, after expenses. I put in calls to Hig and Sean, explaining our intentions and assuring them that they had jobs as long as they wanted them.

I got them to put out the word that we were looking for a skipper and then let nature take its course. I hoped that we could probably have everything squared away in several months. I knew that it would take a while, as the estate would have to go through probate in the absence of any will. Leave it to Gunnar to be a pain in the ass beyond the grave. The son of a bitch didn't have anything remotely resembling a will.

With the fate of the Anna Katerina decided, we turned our thoughts closer to home.

I didn't want to alarm Mom, so when she asked, I kept my summary of events from the boat as spare as possible. I didn't see any reason to tell her about Gunnar trailing me home, or his knowledge of our relationship. I just said we had a fight and his rage just boiled over in usual fashion.

I think she sensed that I might be holding some things back, but in the end she seemed to be willing to accept my explanations. I had my own questions for Mom as well, but I was biding my time. It didn't feel quite right at that particular moment and to be frank, I was of two minds.

It would have been easy to leave well enough alone, but in my heart, I knew that we had to exorcise the last of Mom's demons if we were going to have a future. As wonderful and perfect as everything seemed, I knew deep down that Mom's good humor and apparent happiness was partially a facade.

Around a week or so later, I decided that I couldn't wait any longer and I brought things up in as roundabout a fashion as I could think of. We were in the kitchen preparing dinner, Mom trimming a chuck steak and me chopping veggies for a pot roast, when I decided to jump in.

"I got to know Sean McCallister little bit on this last trip, Mom," I ventured tentatively.

"He said that you used to feed the crew before they went out, back in the old days."

Mom smiled slightly as she remembered. "It was the one nice thing I can say Gunnar did, back in those days. It seemed like a good thing to do, sending the boys off like that. I remember Sean also. He seemed so shy, so awkward and tongue-tied around girls back then..."

"Yeah, he's still very much a fella of few words," I agreed. "But he's a good man. Dad didn't deserve him as an engineer. As much as he was attached to that boat, it was really Sean who kept things humming."

"I guess Sean is the last of the old guard, too. He remembers you fondly, Mom, thinks you're a classy lady."

"Sean is a sweet guy," Mom agreed.

"Yeah, he told me a little about the old crew when we talked. Do you remember Art Swenson?"

I jumped at the sound of shattering glass.

Mom had dropped a Pyrex bowl she had been cleaning on the floor. She was white as a sheet and trembling. My heart went into free fall when I saw her face. She looked terrified and nauseated at the same time.

"What's the matter, Mom?" I asked, heart palpitating. I had been completely unprepared for the intensity of her reaction. "What's the problem?" I asked, pulling her towards me. She resisted, her eyes wide with fear.