Tommy and His Mommy

Mom’s a dream, a real treasure. I’d gotten in a day earlier than expected and she was out. I’d driven through the night and wanted to get a little exercise in; I was stiff from the drive. Thought I’d swim a few laps then maybe take a nap. So I was in the pool when she got home. Of course she’d seen my vehicle in the drive, she knew I was there but still, I’m her only child, I’d just gotten home from college for the summer; she was on the pool deck calling to me,

“Tommy, come here and give Mommy a big kiss.”

What could I do, over the side I slithered. She stood waiting, a huge smile on her face. I stood up and she hugged me, wet body, wet suit and all, she gave me a big hug and a wet kiss.

“When did you get in son, I didn’t expect you ‘til tomorrow?”

“I drove all night, I couldn’t wait to see you Mom, I miss you when I’m away.”

“I miss you, too, Tommy, I miss you too.”

Tommy I thought, I was Tom to everyone else but I guess I’ll always be Tommy to Mom. I was a junior, so I’d been Tommy to my Pop’s Tom. Pop had died seven years ago but I was still Tommy at home.

“Have you eaten; I can fix some sandwiches, would you like that?”

“Yeah Mom, that would be great, let me grab a quick shower then food sounds good.”

I hadn’t realized how hungry I was until she’d mentioned it.

I headed inside while she went to the kitchen.

She had ham on rye, chips and potato salad, some pickles and olives on Styrofoam plates and Cokes for both of us on the pool side table. We ate in the shade of the big umbrella.

We had an amiable chat, catching up on recent events, she about our mutual friends and me about how school had gone; I was on summer break between my junior and senior years of college.

She asked about my plans for the summer.

“Mom, I thought I’d hang around here for a few days, visit some friends and spend some time with you then, the first week of June I think I’ll go up to Georgia, up in the mountains and camp for a week, maybe do some trout fishing and just enjoy the outdoors.”

She got a sad look on her face.

I thought, Tom you lout, how could you have forgotten, my father had died on June 5th, he’d suffered a cerebral hemorrhage and died within minutes, before emergency services could get to him. She was always melancholy at that time of year. He’d been the love of her life and she of his; Tom and Ellen, her name was Ellen had married when she was only eighteen; Dad had been twenty-two.

“I’m sorry Mom, I wasn’t thinking, I’ll put off the camping until a little later.”

“No Tommy, go ahead with your plans, I’ll be ok.”

I brightened, “Mom, come with me, it’s beautiful where I’m going. I’ve been there before with a couple of the guys. We’ll camp on the banks of a pool, the stream we’ll be on has a little waterfall and below it there’s a pool full of trout. We can fish, sun, and swim; we’d have a grand time.”

“Oh Tommy I couldn’t, how much fun could you have with your old Mom along; you just go ahead.”

“Mom, you’d love it. We used to camp when Dad was still here, I think you always had fun.”

She got a wistful look, “Yeah, I did.”

She was remembering starlight nights and sunny days spent out of doors with Tom and Tommy and she was remembering erotic times with Tom in the sleeping bag after Tommy had fallen asleep. Now that had been a long time ago, seven years in fact, she’d been celibate for seven years.

“Do you really think I could Tommy, I’m not as young as I was then, I don’t know if I could hack it.”

Tommy thought, she does have a point. She’d been an athletic woman, playing tennis and golf, getting plenty of exercise; she’d been trim, now, well, now she was forty-eight years old.

Her former sleek black hair was now tinged with gray, the breasts that had seemed immune to gravity had succumbed to nature, on her hips and tummy she was carrying an extra fifteen pounds and her once taut bottom had spread. What the heck, he still wanted her with him.

“Hey Mom, I’ll do the heavy lifting, carry most everything in. I was going to have to anyway, the only thing we’ll be adding is an extra sleeping bag and some more food, we’d have a ball. We’d have to walk about five miles to get to where I want to go, think you could handle that?”

The only real exercise she got anymore was walking, she did walk two miles every morning, not pushing it, just a leisurely stroll but she thought she could handle five miles.

“I could carry the food, I could do that, so, yes, I’m sure I can still walk five miles; I walk every morning anyway, so, yes, I could do that?”

“Well then that’s set, let’s leave on the second.”

Tommy spent the next several days reacquainting himself with his old buddies and a couple of the girls he’d dated in high school, he took one of them, Linda out to the movies and for pizza but nothing more. He wasn’t seeing anyone in particular and wasn’t really looking for a relationship, just a casual date.

He’d bought the supplies they’d need, a well stocked first aid kit, dried foods; hot cereal, dehydrated soup, bottled water and things like that, foodstuff that were light and wouldn’t spoil. Most of the gear they’d need was stored in the garage. He got out the tent and set it up, checking for rips. It was fine. He did make one concession to his Mom, he bought an air mattress and foot pump, a little more weight but he thought she’d appreciate the comfort. The mattress was a double size, they could both sleep on it, and of course they had separate sleeping bags.

He packed his Jeep Cherokee on the first, they’d take off early the next morning, it was a four hour drive.

They had a hearty breakfast before they left, pancakes, eggs and bacon then set off.

When they got into North Georgia they stopped for lunch then drove to the trailhead where Tommy could leave the vehicle.

With packs on their on their backs the headed for the wilderness; Tommy was doing the heavy lifting but he could, he was 6’2” tall and a slender but powerful 180 pounds. His strength wasn’t a weight lifters, he was lithe and sleek, a runner and swimmer’s muscles. The pack was no problem.

They strolled slowly, enjoying the scenery. Trees had new spring leaves, wildflowers were in bloom, it was a pretty trek.

Ellen kept up fine, she was only carrying twenty pounds, Tommy’s was eighty or more, and they were maintaining a slow but steady pace.

She could hear the waterfall before it came into view. The place Tommy had chosen was beautiful, the sunlight glistened off the surface of the pool, the ripples from the waterfall caused the sun beams to seem to dance across the surface, they were surrounded by towering trees but at poolside there was a grassy glen. That’s where they set up camp.

Once the tents were up, Tommy had brought two, the larger one to accommodate them and a smaller tent where he stowed their clothing, supplies and fire materiel, in case of rain he wanted dry tinder.

He stowed their gear and got out the air mattress saying, “For you Mom, I thought your back would appreciate it.”

Ellen smiled, “Bless you Tommy, bless you.”

“Well, we gotta share, I only brought one but it’s big enough for two sleeping bags.”

She winked at him, “And I get to sleep with a young man, now that does bring back memories.”

Tommy turned back to his task; he was a little embarrassed by her remark. Like a lot on boys Tommy had always been attracted to his Mom. She’d been a hottie when he was younger but even now the feelings remained and he was ashamed of that, she was his Mother after all.

He built a fire ring of river stones and went into the woods to gather up tinder, twigs and bigger logs, they’d be cooking over the fire and the evenings could get chilly in the mountains.

After he’d gotten things set up he asked, “Hey Mom, want to do a little fishing, maybe we can have trout for dinner?”

He’d bought her a license, he already had his and he’d carried two lightweight collapsible fly rods in with him.

“It’s been a long time Tommy,” she answered.

“Oh Mom, it’s like riding a bicycle, you may be a little wobbly when you start out but it’ll come back to you.”

He got the rods and tied on dry flies.

“Come on let’s catch dinner,” he goaded her.

She was right, it had been a long time but after several efforts, only one of which resulted in the fly getting tangled in her hair, she had it mastered again.

Tommy figured they’d get Brook Trout, the setting was perfect for this fish, the current created by the waterfall and the gravel stream bed made for ideal Brookie habitat.

On his third cast he hooked up, line streamed off his reel as the fish made a run; Tommy fought him for several minutes then beached a nice fish, about 20” long. He laid it aside and made another cast.

Ellen got the next one, a little smaller that Tommy’s about 17 inches but a nice fish.

“Take it off for me Tommy, take it off for me.” She was laughing and having a merry old time.

Tommy thought, gosh, I haven’t seen her this happy since Pop died. He was glad she’d come.

He unhooked the fish and added it to his.

“Mom, I’m gonna start the fire and clean these fish, we’ve got enough for dinner but if you want to keep fishing, get one more for me then we can release anymore you catch.”

“I think I will, this is fun,” she replied.

“Oops, got another, she reeled in the fish; it could have been the twin of her first.

Tommy got the fire started and while it burned down to embers he cleaned the three fish. He scaled them then filleted them. He disposed of the entrails but kept the heads and bones, he wanted to make a stock. Dinner was going to be a fish chowder and fried filets.

He filled a pan from the stream, he was going to boil the water anyway, he’d use this for the stock and save the bottles to drink.

He set up a grate over the fire, added the bones and heads to the pot and let it simmer for thirty minutes then strained it through a piece of cheese cloth. Then he added some dehydrated corn and onions and diced a potato, he let this simmer, after thirty minutes he add some powdered milk and one , having diced it, one of the fish. Heating the frying pan, he made fried bread, really just flour, water a little baking powder and salt. Not gourmet fancy but tasty out here.

He added the fish and milk to the chowder and heated some oil in the skillet. Tossed the filets with a bit of flour, cornmeal, salt and pepper and sautéed them.

“Soup’s on Mom,” he called.

“Tommy this delicious,” she commented.

“I think everything tastes better out here over an open fire; I know I sure enjoy it more.”

He’d fixed a pot of coffee; after they’d eaten they sat around the fire and had a cup.

“Tommy I’m really glad you talked me into coming, gee I can’t remember when I’ve had so much fun.”

“I’m glad you’re here too, it’s great having you out here all to myself.”

After a while Ellen said, “Let me clean up here.” She started to get up.

“That’s ok Mom; I’ll get it, why don’t you get changed for bed while you can have some privacy?”

“Thanks Tommy,” she said as she went to the tent.

He gathered up their mess gear and took it toward the waterfall, he’d scour them with the gravel and rinse then in the stream.

Ellen came back out of the tent and walked towards the woods, she wouldn’t go too far in, the camp lantern didn’t provide enough illumination. She was still dressed in her shorts but she had a roll of toilet paper.

Tommy’s eyes followed her, she didn’t go far. He could see as she lowered her shorts but when she squatted she was out of sight; he could hear her though. She stood and pulled her shorts back up and went to the smaller tent. When she came back out she was in her gown and a pair of slippers, her dirty clothes went into the outside pocket of her pack.

She was already in her sleeping bag by the time Tommy finished, he changed in the small tent, gym shorts only and flip flops.

“Early to bed and all that,” he said. “Out here it’s easy to get to sleep, listen to the waterfall, isn’t that soothing?”

He slid into his bag beside hers, as she said, “It’s almost musical I think.”

He kissed her on the cheek, “Good night Mom.”

Tommy was asleep in minutes, he was beat, he’d done most of the work but not so Ellen, she lay awake, her eyes were closed, it was easier to look into the past that way.

She and Tom had been avid campers; before Tommy was born they’d go at least two weekends each month. They took a two year hiatus when Tommy arrived but after he could get around they went at least monthly.

They didn’t have the luxury of air mattresses but they’d zip their sleeping bags together, one big bag, and naked they’d frolic.

Memories, God how she missed Tom, her eyes got misty and she felt a little tingle, oh memories.

She was caressing herself as she dozed off to lachrymose remembrances.

Ellen was up before Tommy the next morning, she dressed in the smaller tent and hung her gown on the line Tommy’d set up, a day in the fresh air and it would be as fresh as if she’d laundered it.

She put some water on to boil and made coffee, the water was for the oatmeal that would be their breakfast.

When Tommy finally stumbled out she was on her second cup, “Good Morning sleepy head,” she greeted him.

“Morning Mom,” he mumbled as he went to the dressing tent.

After they’d finished their breakfast Ellen said, “Tommy where are the bathroom facilities?”

That was pretty thoughtless of him, he hadn’t prepared them.

He got up and grabbed the camp shovel, thinking, Tommy; she needs to move her bowels, damn man, think.

He went out a ways and shoveled out a trench about three feet deep, mounding dirt at one end then went back.

“Come with me, I’ll show you the facilities, such as they are.”

He showed her where he’d dug the latrine; he’d left the shovel stuck in the dirt.

“Primitive, I know but it should be enough to last the week, it won’t flush so just scoop some dirt in when you’re done.”

Ellen went back to the campsite, retrieving the roll of tissue then returned.

She surveyed the situation; it would work best if she straddled the trench.

Oh well, she shimmied out of her shorts and panties and squatted.

When she got back Tommy had already cleaned up.

“Would you like to take a little nature hike,” He asked, “We could walk along the stream, I’ll bet we can see some animals and a lot of birds.”

As they walked she took his hand, “Thank you Tommy.”

“Why thank me, I’m the one having fun, gosh I’m glad you came.”

“I am too; I haven’t enjoyed myself like this in seven years.”

They walked hand in hand, he gave hers a squeeze and pointed, she looked, there was a mother raccoon with four kittens, one of them was stripped, it looked a bit like a skunk. They watched, she was giving them lessons, showing them how to get food and how to rinse it. They stood silently for nearly thirty minutes watching their own private nature show.

Finally the raccoon family moved on, they looked at each other and laughed, “Now that was neat, wasn’t it Mom.”

She gave his hand a squeeze, “It sure was.”

They walked until it was lunch time. Back in camp they dined on hard salami, cheese and crackers. Tommy had made some sun tea the previous afternoon and had put the jug in the stream near the waterfall next to a little surprise he had for his Mom. It wasn’t icy cold but it was chilled, they drank it with their lunch.

After they’d finished Ellen asked, “Want to take a dip,” As she pointed toward the pool.

“Sure, get changed and I’ll meet you there.”

He grabbed a pair of gym shorts from the clothing tent and headed for the water.

Ellen took a little longer, her suit was a two piece from younger days and it showed.

Her tummy bulged a little over the waist and her bottom, well, it didn’t cover as much as when she was younger, must have shrunk she kidded herself, even the top was a little tight. It wasn’t the most flattering of attires but it was what she had. She walked to the water’s edge.

“Is it cold,” she asked.

“Burr, burr, chatter, chatter, yeah, it’s chilly but you get used to it.”

Tommy watched her as she worked up the nerve to jump in. He could see the ravages time had wrought on her body. She looked her forty-eight years, she was still a pretty woman but she was a pretty middle-aged woman and he loved her, she was his Mom.

Let’s get it over with Ellen thought, do it all at once. She launched into a dive, she’d been a swimmer and diver when she was younger, she was still graceful, she cleaved the water cleanly.

The dive was nice, her trip to the surface anything but, she came up sputtering, “My God Tommy, it’s like ice.”

“Oh you’ll get used to it,” he blithely replied.

After a few minutes she acclimatized, and they began to swim.

Tommy was a powerful swimmer and Ellen was no slouch herself, they frolicked like young otters, diving like porpoises trying to surprise one another by surfacing unexpectedly, Tommy tried to swim between her legs, she clamped her thighs and caught him. He wriggled free but he’d touched her, he felt a little arousal, he swam away.

Unbeknownst to him she felt it, too. She hadn’t been touched there in years, Tommy reminded her so much of Tom but this was Tommy, her son not Tom her long departed husband. She got out of the water, that was just a little too intense.

She sat on the shore, warming in the sun while Tommy continued to swim. He was turning laps the length of the pool, powerful driving strokes, straining his muscles.

When he surfaced in front of her she told him she was going to get a bar of soap and go upstream under the waterfall, she was going to bathe and wash her hair. The sweat from their walk in and the smoke from the fire had given her an aroma that she would well be rid of.

“Now you stay here Tommy, I’m going to take a bath.”

He understood what she was saying, she was going to get naked and wash all over.

“Can’t I peek just a little,” He teased.

God, she thought, that gave me a tingle, “All you’d see is a saggy old woman,” she answered.

“Mom, I think you’re beautiful,” he answered; there was a hitch in his voice.

He’s serious; he really does want to look at me.

“Keep your wandering eyes for some co-ed: who’d want to look at a forty-eight year old woman.”

“Me.”

And she knew he was going to do it, he was going to watch her bathe. She was torn, he was her son and that made it wrong, still he was a handsome twenty-three year old man, her son to be sure, but he wanted to see her. Wrong or not, she’d let him, if he came, she’d let him watch her. Not overtly of course but she didn’t think he’d be overt about it, but she’d let him.

She went to the small tent, stripped off her suit and got a towel and soap. After hanging her two piece on the line to dry she went to the waterfall.

She slipped into the water and swam to the falls.

Her head was under the cascade, wet she lathered her hair; she was not now directly under the falls, she scrubbed her scalp, her breasts were floating on the surface and her hair was a mass of lather when Tommy got his first view.

He’d secreted himself in a small copse but his view was unobstructed. He’d seen her breasts floating, her large dark areolas, her thumb sized nipples erect from the chilled water. His eyes had followed as she swam back under the torrent to rinse the soap from her hair.

She’d swum back to shallower water and stood. She lathered her body, her pubis was covered with a mass of raven black hair, she’d soaped herself there, opening her legs, washing her groin. His eyes didn’t leave her as she squatted to rinse. She’d come out of the water and had dried. Then she stood, nude, just gazing out over the water.

And she was a vision to Tommy, lush and soft, not today’s slender shape; she could have adorned a Peter Paul Reubens’ painting. Her breasts did sag a little, her tummy had a visible bulge and her bottom spread wondrously, to Tommy she was breathtaking.

Ellen hadn’t seen him but she could feel, sense his presence, she turned back and looked out over the woods, giving him a frontal view. She knew she was playing a dangerous game, where could it lead, titillating Tommy and arousing herself, she knew no good could come of it. She shivered but not from the cold; then she picked up her towel and went back to camp.

Ellen was already changed by the time Tommy came back. She had on a pair of shorts and a pull-over; it was obvious she wasn’t wearing a brassiere. Tommy wondered if that was for comfort or for him. If it was for him it was working, he was tenting his gym shorts.

“Mom, I’m going to fish, do you want to join me,” he asked.

“No son, I think I’d gonna lay in the sun, work on my tan and read a little.”

“Well if I can get two I’d like to bake them.”

An hour or so later he returned with two nice trout. He scaled them, gutted and gilled them, leaving the heads on, wrapped them in foil and after adding some seasonings set them to the side of the fire to bake. He also foil wrapped two potatoes and put them in the coals. Their vegetable would be reconstituted dehydrated peas with a little thyme, salt and pepper.

“Tommy where did you learn to cook like this, these fish are scrumptious.”

“Mom if you’re gonna camp you’ve got to know a few things; like how to feed yourself; but enjoy tonight, tomorrow I’m fixing soup and a loaf of soda bread, just so you know.”

They retired early; Tommy gave her a chaste kiss and wished her good night.

She hadn’t yet gone to sleep, just lightly dozing, she was on her side with her back to Tommy, he put his arm over her, outside the sleeping bag but over her and hugged her. He kissed the nape of her neck and whispered, “Night Mommy.”

He was asleep long before she was, she kept replaying in her mind his last kiss and his utterance, “Night Mommy,” he hadn’t called her Mommy since he was thirteen and it had turned her liquid. If he asked right now, she knew she would let him.

They had hot cereal the next morning they swam again. After lunch Tommy suggested they hike up stream, to the top of the falls.

After donning walking shoes they started up. It was steep; they needed to be careful where they stepped.

At the top they sat and took in the view, it was awesome, up stream the river was a band of silver cleaving the green of the forest.

Mist roiled up from the falls, the sun shining through the droplets created a rainbow of tiny jewels, flashing with color.

Ellen leaned against Tommy’s shoulder and they sat quietly for several hours.

As the sun began to slide toward the western horizon Tommy suggested that they should start back down.

He was in the lead when he heard his mother scream,

“Tommmmy.”

He turned; she was sliding out of control. Fortunately he caught her before she tumbled avoiding serious injury but she had pulled muscles in her back.

“Are you ok Mommy?” Tommy asked.

“I think so but let’s rest a few minutes, I think I’ve pulled a muscle.”

They rested for about ten minutes before Ellen said, “We better get down before nightfall, I don’t want to be stuck up here in the dark.”

“Good idea, let me help you,” He said, extending a hand and pilling her to her feet. They got down without further mishap.

Tommy made the soup and baked the soda bread in a reflector oven; after they’d eaten they changed for bed.

Ellen had changed first and was in her sleeping bag. When Tommy came she told him her back was tightening up where she’d wrenched it and asked if there was ibuprofen in the first aid kit.

“Yeah, got that and, if you think it would help; I don’t have any Ben Gay or anything like that but there is intensive care lotion.”

“Yes, that would be nice.”

He got the analgesic tablets and one of the water bottles along with the lotion. Ellen was lying atop her sleeping bag when he returned.

She swallowed the pills.

Tommy said, “Uh Mom, you’re gonna have to lift your gown if I’m gonna give you a rub down.”

Lifting her hips she pulled the gown from under her up ‘til it was above her shoulders, baring her back for his attention.

“Where does it hurt Mom?”

“Under my left shoulder blade and on down to my side is where it’s the worst.”

He tried sitting beside her to give her the massage but it wasn’t really working very well, finally he said, “Mom, I’m gonna have to straddle you to reach where it hurts.”

“Go ahead Tommy.”

So he was poised, a knee on each side of her hips. He warmed the lotion in the palm of his hand and began to rub, working the sore muscles.

Ellen sighed, “Oh yeah Tommy, right there,” she said, “Right there.”

As Tommy rubbed he moved forward and backward. His crotch was resting on her bottom, he had his gym shorts on and Ellen had on panties, but still…

Tommy was getting stiff and Ellen felt it, she relaxed her bottom letting him ride along her crack.

She smiled to herself; Tommy was rubbing her harder and faster now, rubbing and breathing, harder and faster. He caught his breath and said,

“Mommy I need to take a break, I’ve got to go to the bathroom.”

Bathroom indeed she thought, she’d felt his penis twitching, he needed to change his shorts.

Her gown was in place and she was in her sleeping bag when he came back; he did have on a different pair of shorts.

“Thanks son, it feels a lot better,” she said.

“I’m glad,” he said as he bent down and kissed her, “Good Night Mommy,” he said as he crawled into his sleeping bag.

Ellen awoke during the night; Tommy’s arm was draped over her. His breathing was slow and rhythmic, he was sound asleep.

The top of her body wasn’t covered; she gently took his hand and placed it on her breast.

That’s how they slept the rest of the night, Tommy’s arm over her and his hand on her breast.

Up early, Tommy put on the coffee and grabbed his fly rod, he wanted fried fish and scrambled eggs for breakfast.

He quickly got two brook trout, each about a pound, scaled them, gutted and beheaded them, he was going to fry them bone in.

He whipped up some of his fried bread, fried the fish, cleaned the skillet and, with water mixed some powered scrambled eggs.

Ellen came out while he was finishing up; she had her roll of tissue. He told her breakfast would be ready in five minutes.

She hadn’t gone far, again he was able to see as she lowered her shorts, she was obscured by bushes when she squatted then she stood and pulled her clothes back up.

She rinsed her hands in the stream then came back to the campsite.

She seemed distracted; he poured her a cup of coffee and started to dish up the food. She stopped him.

“Nothing for me son, I don’t feel like eating this morning, just the coffee’s fine.”

Then it struck him, today was June 5th, the seventh anniversary of Pop’s death. She’d be blue all day.

After breakfast she was a bit despondent, she wanted to do something to keep busy. She’d hung her gown on the line as she did every morning, this morning she decided to air out her sleeping bag. She brought it out, unzipped it and hung it to be freshened.

Later they took a walk, they talked about Tom, reminiscing about the fun things they’d done together. He had some of the sausage and cheese for lunch. She still didn’t feel like eating.

After he’d eaten she went into the tent and lay down on Tommy’s sleeping bag and took a nap.

When she got up Ellen sat at the side of the pool, just staring into space, occasionally picking up a pebble and tossing it in, making a small splash; reminiscing about bygone days.

Tommy left her alone with her thoughts; around four thirty he started supper, his Pop was an Irishman, Thomas Xavier Callahan; you can’t more Mick than that. Tommy was fixing corned beef and cabbage.

Of course the corned beef was out of a can and instead of potatoes they were having boiling bag rice. The dish he was cooking was really quasi-Jamaican, spiced with pepper sauce.

He sautéed some onion, added the corned beef, pepper sauce and thyme and boiled the cabbage. When everything was done he’d mix them together and serve it with rice. It was the best he could to honor an Irishman.

When everything was done he walked to the pool, massaged Mom’s shoulders and said, “Come on, suppers ready, you need to eat something.”

As he helped her up she said, “Yes, I guess so.”

He told her the meal was the best he could do to honor an Irishman, corned beef and cabbage, not authentic but still corned beef and cabbage.

She picked at her plate but at least she ate something.

After she’d finished she asked me if he’d come sit with her.

He cleaned up and went to the pool.

She asked him to sit behind her; she wanted to rest against him.

He sat with her between his legs, she leaned back against his chest, they sat in silence for several minutes before she said,

“I miss him so much Tommy, he was a good man.”

“The best Mommy, the best, a son couldn’t ask for a finer father, I miss him too.”

Again they sat in silence, each with their own thoughts and memories of the man that was his father, the man that had been her husband.

“Would you hold me Tommy, suddenly I feel cold,”

He wrapped my arms around her. She snuggled back against him.

Stroking her hair he whispered, “I’m here for you Mommy; I’ll always be here for you.”

She just snuggled deeper.

After about thirty minutes Tommy broke the reverie,

“Mommy, I don’t know if you’ll approve but I want to drink a toast to Pop. I brought a bottle of champagne; will you drink a toast with me?”

I think your Pop would approve, he was a good man but like the Irishman he was he was never one to turn down a drink. Where’s the bubbly?”

“Hang on, I’ll get it.”

He needed a flashlight; the bottle was in the stream. He retrieved it then got two tin camp cups and popped the cork.

She kinda chuckled, “Now ain’t we the part of the elite, champagne from tin cups under the stars.”

“Ah what the heck,” she said clicking cups with Tommy, “Here’s to Tom Callahan, a good, fine man.”

He took a sip of his, she threw hers down.

“You’re getting behind already, pour me another cup.”

Tommy made the toast this time, “Here’s to Tom Callahan, the best damned father a boy could ever wish for.”

He finished his in a gulp but so did she.

They traded toasts to Tom Callahan until the bottle was empty.

She wasn’t much of a drinker and Ellen was getting a little giddy.

She giggled, “I need to peepee Tommy, would you get me my tissue, the feet aren’t working just right; then I think I need to go to bed.”

“No problem Mommy, do you want the flashlight?”

She giggled again, “No I think I can find my way to do that.”

He got the tissue for her, she wandered into the woods and he went to change.

When he got to the tent she wasn’t back. He was only in there a moment or two and there was a blinding flash.

It was so close it illuminated the interior of the tent like it was daylight. There was a booming crash of thunder right behind it; the wind blew shaking the tent, Tommy was afraid it was going to blow it over. It was a cataclysm, He opened the flap of the tent, rain was coming down in a deluge, he couldn’t see two feet.

Oh my God, he thought, my mother’s caught out in this. He grabbed the flashlight and started out then thought, what good would that do, it would be easy to miss her even if she was within five feet in this blinding storm.

The temperature must have dropped twenty degrees when the storm started, the rain was icy cold.

He was scared; his Mom could easily succumb to exposure on a night like this. Holding the tent flap open, he called out to her over and over and waved the flashlight hoping she could follow his voice or see the light.

He’d nearly decided he had no choice, he was going to out try to find her, she’d been a little unsteady of foot when she’d left, maybe she’d fallen.

Then another tremendous arcing bolt and in the flash he saw her, she was hunched over, walking slowly. He ran through the storm to her and supported her until we made it to the tent. She was drenched and shivering uncontrollably.

“Let me help you out of those wet things.”

She was only wearing a light top, he peeled it off, she hadn’t put on a bra, the shorts came off next and finally he pulled her panties down. She stood nude, shivering, with chattering teeth.

Oh damn, her sleeping bag was still on the line, so was her gown, the only clothing in the tent were her sopping things and my shorts, Tommy thought.

He unzipped his sleeping bag and lowered her to it then zipped it back up.

She was still shivering, she looked with me with pleading eyes, “Tommy please get in with me and hold me I’m so cold.”

“Roll over on your side and give me room to get in.”

She rolled over and he slipped in behind her, pulling her to his chest and wrapping her in his arms, he got as much of his body in contact with hers as he could, letting her draw heat from him. Finally the shivering ceased. He was surprised to hear her chuckle,

“You know Tommy it would be funny if it wasn’t so darned scary.”

“What happened Mommy?”

“Should I be telling this story on myself to my son, oh what the heck?”

“I wandered around out there for a little while like the darn dog does, looking for the “right place.” Finally, I found it, so my panties and shorts were around my ankles and I’m squatting, just starting to pee when that first lightning bolt crashed; Tommy it hit right next to me, it startled me and I lost my balance. I fell over backwards, now remember, I was already starting to pee. I didn’t stop just because I was on my back. I peed all over myself and my clothes then the rain started, I tried to hold my shorts up and run. I tripped and fell again then decided I’m already soaked. I took the time to get my pants back on then tried to find my way back.”

She snuggled against him, her back to his chest, his thighs tight to hers and his groin against her bottom. He kissed the back of her neck and nibbled on her ear, whispering,

“I love you Mommy.”

A little tremor passed through her, she took his hand that was around her waist and raised it to her breast.

“Please Tommy,” she rasped, “Please.”

He kneaded her breasts, her nipples were swollen and hard as granite, when he started to tweak it her body trembled, she emitted a low moan and then a sigh as she settled back against him.

He thought, my God, I’d just given my Mommy an orgasm, that got him aroused tremendously aroused and he swelled, pressed against her bottom he got a monster of a hard on.

He heard the zipper on the sleeping bag being opened then she tossed it aside and knelt beside him. It wasn’t chilly in the tent any longer; they were both hotter than 98.6 degrees, a lot hotter and the sexual tension was so thick you could have cut it with a knife.

She tugged down his shorts, freeing him, his erection stood straight out.

“If you want me to stop Tommy I will, I don’t want to, but I will.”

“Mommy, don’t stop, I don’t want you to stop.”

She pulled his shorts over his feet.

She took his erection in her hand and straddled him, guiding his penis into her awaiting vagina; she was slick as ice, hot as fire and smooth as velvet as she sat down on him, taking him in.

She talked to him.

She said,

“I loved your father and I was never with another man, I was a virgin until the night I got married and no one else has ever been where you are now. Tommy, I’m not thinking about your father, it’s you I want, you I want in me and it’s you I want to make love to. It’s wrong, I know it’s wrong and Tommy I don’t care. Can you make love to me?”

“Yes Mommy.”

When he answered her she gave a little tremor and he felt fluid ooze from her, she’d had another little orgasm.

“Oh when you call me Mommy you turn my insides to liquid, call me Mommy and make love to me.”

She rolled off me onto her back, she took him with her, he was still in her and he was on top.

“Make love to me Tommy, make love to me.”

He slowly began to stroke into her and said, “I love you Mommy.”

“Is it ok Mommy,” he asked.

As though she was reading his mind she answered, “It’s ok, those years are long past.”

He kept it slow, even when she wrapped her legs around him and pulled him tighter he kept it slow, long deep strokes, they’d have other chances for more violent sex but tonight he wanted to revel in her soft femininity. She moaned, a low sound and she trembled as a series of orgasms flowed through her. He climaxed but stayed in her, enjoying her.

“Tommy you could have gone a little faster if you wanted, I won’t break, I promise.”

“Mommy, we’ll be more lustful and wanton next time.”

“Is there going to be a next time Tommy?”

“Mommy, there’re going to be a lot of next times.”

“Come hug me Tommy, hug me and hold me ‘til we go to sleep.”

They slept entangled in each others arms.

Ellen was first up the next morning. The fire was completely washed out by the storm. Fortunately Tommy had had the foresight to protect the tinder. She got it along with twigs and several logs and relit the fire.

I’m gonna do breakfast this morning she thought. She got her fly rod and walked to the pool.

She was soon back with two nice trout. She cleaned them, she didn’t like that chore, usually she’d left it to the guys, but she could. She scaled, gutted and beheaded them and set them in a pan of water.

Ellen was a Southern girl; she decided to fix a Southern breakfast; fried fish, scrambled eggs, biscuits and white gravy.

She whipped up the biscuit dough and set them to baking in the reflection oven.

She mixed the powered eggs with water and added a little of the dehydrated milk, seasoned them and into the skillet they went.

Uh oh she thought what to make the gravy with? She didn’t have any bacon grease.

What the heck, she’d use the grease after she’d cooked the fish; maybe she’d create a new dining sensation, White Trout Milk Gravy, she fried the fish.

Adding a bit of flour to the pan she made a roux then, she added the reconstituted milk, salt and pepper.

She called out to Tommy, “Come and get it afore I throw it to the hogs.”

She thought, where did that come from; it was what her Mam used to yell out the back door to the men.

Tommy stumbled out of the tent scratching his head, still in his gym shorts.

“Come eat son, it’s ready.”

Tommy stepped behind a tree then came to the table. She’d already dished out the food.

“This is good Mommy but what is it? I’ve never tasted anything quite like it.”

It was her gravy.

“That my handsome son is destined to grace menus throughout in the South. I can see it on the marquees of the finest dining establishment in such vacation hot spots as Immokalee, Florida or Hahira, Georgia; “Ellen’s Famous White Trout Milk Gravy; “ or, more likely, it’s like you said, everything tastes better in the great outdoors.”

Tommy cleaned up and asked, “What do you want to do this morning Mommy.”

“I want to take a bath, I stink. Why don’t you join me, you can wash my back.”

“What, your shower last night didn’t wash you,” he joshed.

“Not where I smell it didn’t.”

Off they went to the waterfall, towels, soap and naked.

They washed each other, exploring intimate crevasses, soaping and feeling then they rinsed.

“Mommy, let’s swim down to the pool,” he said, tossing the soap up on the bank.

Stroking hard and fast, they raced downstream.

In the placid waters they gamboled, diving, paddling, just cavorting like teens.

Ellen felt like a teen, a young woman with her lover, yes, her lover.

“Tommy, I want to work on my tan,” she said, “Would you get the blanket please?” As she got out of the pool.

Tommy came up to her, “I think I better get the tanning lotion, too, you’re getting freckles.”

She was, there was a spray of them on each breast.

Tommy trotted back to the waterfall, got the towels and soap, dropped them in the dressing tent and brought the blanket and oil.

Ellen reclined on her back. Tommy spread the lotion over her legs, her tummy and paid special attention to her breasts.

“Fresh boy,” she giggled as she flopped over, “Do my back.”

He greased the backs of her legs, back and shoulders then did her bottom. He kneaded her cheeks and caressed her then he slipped a finger into her crack. She felt him circling her opening and she tensed.

Ellen had a secret, a secret she’d kept for thirty-six years, a secret only she knew. Her Da was long deceased, her brother and sister had never known.

Shortly after her twelfth birthday she’d been lying in bed, not yet asleep, just drowsing, under the sheet. Her Da had come and sat on the bed.

“Ellen lass, your old Da needs your help, can you see it within your heart to do something for me?

“What Da,” she asked.

He was rubbing her back through the sheet.

“Lass your Mam’s been gone these five years, and I have needs, just like all men, can ya help?”

Ellen thought, he could force me, assault me but her Da wasn’t that kind of man, no, his Irish blarney he’d use. If she said no, he’d accept that. She thought she knew what he was asking.

“Da I can’t, what would I tell the priest at confession, what would I tell my husband when the sheet was still snow white the next morning?”

“Ellen lass, you’ll be a virgin when I walk you down that aisle, I promise ya.”

It didn’t happen, not because she wasn’t a virgin on her wedding day, she was; but John Jameson and the fine purveyors of Guinness Stout had killed him a month earlier.

He turned the sheet down and slipped his hand under her gown.

Massaging her bottom he said, “Lass you can help your old Da, you’ll still be a virgin.”

Now she knew what he needed, she wanted to say no, she didn’t want to do it.

“Daaa, no, I canna do that, it goes against the Bible.”

“Lassie, we both know the priests do it all the time and with little boys yet, but they’re still priests, God must forgive, will ya help me now?”

She was torn, she loved her Da, since Mam had died he’d been the only one there for her, for her and the youngsters, she could have said no but she didn’t.

“Yes Da, if you must, if you must,” is what she said.

“Thank you lass,” he answered as he took her hand, “Come along now.”

He led her to his room and shut and locked the door.

She noticed the jar of Vaseline at his bedside, he took his pants and boxer short off but left on his Tee-shirt.

She was standing by the bed, he walked to her.

“Thank you lass,” he said as he bent her over the bed.

She felt it when he turned her gown up over her hips, she felt it when he spread her and she felt it when he rubbed her with something greasy.

He guided his cock to her virgin rosebud, “Relax now lass, this might hurt just a bit.”

He pressed into her.

Ellen screamed, Daaa!” Oh it hurt it hurt so very, very badly.

“Hush lassie, we don’t want to wake the little ones now do we?”

So she lay quietly, with tears in her eyes she accepted the pain. He was sawing in and out of her then she felt him tremble and she was filled with something hot and then it was over.

He helped her back to her feet and gave her a little kiss, “Thank you Ellen,” he said.

She left his room. She felt gooey down there. She went to the bathroom and sat on the commode.

She was leaking something from her bottom, she sat until it stopped then she wiped, erasing the cum and the Vaseline and went to her room.

Three nights later he came for again.

That became his routine, two or three nights a week he’d come for her and lead her to his room. It was always the same; he’d bend her over the bed and flip up her gown. He never tried to make love to her and never touched her vagina, he wasn’t trying to make her his lover, he used her for release and relief.

For the first year she dreaded his nocturnal visits but then he added just a little spice for her.

The first time he did it it was like a little electric current had shocked her. Instead of just holding her by the hips he’d put a hand under her and opened her lips, he only touched her at the top.

She rode his fingers in rhythm to his pumping.

That’s how she had her first orgasm, grinding against his hand while he sawed in and out of her.

After he’d helped her up he gave her a smile, “Did you like that lass?”

She turned her head away; she couldn’t look at him as she whispered, “Yes Da.”

It went on until he passed away, she calculated he’d had her over seven hundred times and that on his hand she’d experienced over five hundred orgasms; quite a number for a virgin.

Tommy gave her a sharp little slap on the ass, “Mommy are you still with me?” he asked.

“I’m still here, Tommy,” she answered.

Tom had never touched her there, he thought it was dirty. No one had touched her there in over thirty years; her son just had.

“You’re all oiled, I think I’m gonna try fishing at the base of the waterfall, might be a big one lurking in there.”

While Ellen baked Tommy fished.

He’d tied on a wet fly that simulated a crawdad, he wanted to get deeper, cast after cast he made; nothing.

He decided he was wrong, no lunker had struck, he was ready to quit.

One last cast he thought.

The fish stripped line off his reel, running down stream and he could tell it was a monster, he was using his hand on the reel to try to control the fist but it continued to take line. The backing was in sight before he was able to turn the fish and start retrieving line.

When he was finally able to get the fish to the bank he couldn’t believe its size. He knew the Georgia state record for brook trout was 5 pounds ten ounces; his had to be over five pounds. This big girl deserves to live he thought as he unhooked and released the fish. She lay in the water for a moment then with a powerful swish of her tail she was gone.

Man that was a thrill he thought but now he wanted another thrill even a bigger thrill, he walked back to where Ellen lay sunning.

“You ready for lunch?” He asked.

“I’m a little hungry,” she said as she sat up, “Let me jump in and rinse off.”

“Mommy did you bring a dress?” He asked.

She had, a little summer sun dress, “I have one with me, yes, why do you ask?”

“I want you to get dressed for lunch, a dress, bra, panties even your sandals, please.”

“Are you going to?

“I’ve only got shorts and Tee-shirts, I didn’t even pack underwear.”

“Well I’ll dress up if you do, but why do you want me dressed up?”

“So I can undress you after lunch.”

“You’re going to undress me, why would you want to do that?” She teased.

“So I can make love to you.”

She rinsed off and went to get dressed.

Tommy was clad in shorts and a top when she came out for lunch.

The meal was a simple affair, pate on crackers, hard cheese, pickles and tea.

He was standing, legs spread, hands on hips looking at her and smiling. God he looks like an Adonis, my Adonis, tall and lithe, hair black as coal, she felt a little tremble. Oops, the panties he takes off me are going to be just a little damp.

“I get to go first,” she said as she walked to him.

She lifted his Tee-shirt over his head and rubbed his chest and stomach saying, “My handsome man.”

She unfastened his shorts and pulled down the zipper letting them fall to his feet, he stepped out of them. She knelt in front of him and kissed his penis then rose.

He lifted her dress over her head and dropped it in the grass then took a moment to admire her before unhooking her bra. Lowering it from her shoulders he lifted one breast then the other, kissing her nipples then he dropped to his knees.

He took her feet from her sandals then paused a moment before slowly rolling her panties over hip hips. He let then fall to the ground then he lifted on foot and the other, tossing them on her bra and dress. She stood over him, her legs slightly parted.

He encircled her hips and pulled her to his face, he inhaled, her musky scent was that of an adult woman in full arousal. He could see the moisture on her lips.

He took her hand and led her to their tent. He’d already unzipped his sleeping bag and laid it over the air mattress. He lay on it pulling her down with him.

He took her in his arms and kissed her, kissed with the passion of a lover not the chaste kiss of a son.

“I love you so, Mommy,” he whispered as he trailed kisses down her neck and over her chest.

He took one nipple between his lips and sucked it in. He nursed on her like a baby, sucking hard, distending her nipple, pulling on it as he sucked.

Ellen could feel her uterus contracting, just like when he was an infant, her breathing change, shallow raspy breaths, she clinched her thighs, God was she lubricating, she could feel the moisture under her.

Tommy changed to the other breast.

He kissed down her torso, his Mommy was damp with perspiration, she felt almost feverish, he lapped her salty excretion, he caressed her abdomen with its little bulge, tickled her belly button and nosed into hair. Her mons veneris was covered by a wild black tangle; there was a tinge of gray but not much, her tugged lightly with his lips.

Tommy opened her lips with his fingers. Her clitoris was red, swollen, engorged with blood; he passed over it for a moment and traced her vulva with the tip of his tongue. He followed her slit to its end, he was at her rosebud, he licked her there and probed her with his tongue.

Ellen undulated at the touch of his tongue.

Tommy worked his way upward, laving her and tugging at her labia with his lips. He dipped his tongue tasting his portal to the world, twenty-three years ago he’d emerged from there, crying and squirming, today at least a part of him was going back in.

Her aroma was stronger, heady and it willed him upward. Her clit was protruding from her lips, its pearly sheen awaiting him. He sucked her in through his lips into his mouth, tugging at it while his tongue teased the tip, alternately licking and tweaking, he brought her closer and closer.

Ellen was writhing on the mattress; it was nearly a chant as she intoned,

“Oh Tommy, oh Tommy, oh Tommy, oh God yes, yes, yesss.”

It was like she was going into convulsions, she trembled uncontrollable, her tummy rolled, the extra fifteen pounds quivering, she clamped her thighs around Tommy’s head and she gushed, her woman cum pulsed, jet after jet shooting from her, inundating Tommy, soaking the sleeping bag. She screamed as the first big orgasm hit her then moaned as it was followed by four or five smaller ones, each contracting her vagina and forcing more of her fluids from her.

She fell back to the mattress, exhausted for the moment, Tommy licked her vulva and tongued her vagina drinking her precious nectar then he rose between her splayed legs, leaned forward and kissed her, a wet kiss.

He whispered, “I love you Mommy, my sweet, sweet Mommy.”

Ellen tasted her juices on his lips; she’d never tasted herself before, never sneaked a finger in and sucked it, never once. Now she knew her own taste. A new experience but she was having a lot of new experiences.

Tommy lifted her legs and draped them over his shoulders, he entered her one long thrust and he was buried.

“Mommy you’re silk, liquid silk, so smooth and so ripe so wet so wonderful.”

He pumped her, probing deep into her, returning to his original home.

He pounded her hard and fast as he swelled, a thunderous climax erupted from him, pulse after pulse, jet after jet of his cum filled her, he roared like a lion, like the king of beasts while she moaned out her pleasure, trembling, quivering her son flowing into her.

Ellen was shaken, except for last night she’d not had sex in seven years; she’d never had sex like this, not with Tom, not ever. She was a little sore, he’d worked her hard. She was tender and he was still in her, stroking slowly as he softened. She tightened, contracting her vagina, giving him a little squeeze.

He looked up, she was smiling and he was so happy.

They lay together, she on her tummy, he on his side, talking, love talk, expressing their feelings for one another. Tommy was idly stroking her body while the shared. He rubbed her back and caressed her sides then let his hand wander down the small of her back and up to her bottom, he kneaded her cheeks and fondled her, slipping a finger into her crack and teasing her tight little pucker.

“Do you like my bottom, Tommy, my big old broad bottom?” she quietly asked.

“I think you’re fantastic, you’ve got the prettiest poshest pulchritudinous posterior I’ve ever peered upon.”

“I see you’ve inherited some of that Irish blarney,”

He gave her a little, light spank saying, “but it’s true.”

Thirty years she thought, could she go back thirty years. Her tummy was watery and she felt like she needed to pee, nervousness. But she could go there again, if Tommy wanted her, she would go there again.

She turned her head away, she was embarrassed, and abashed by what she knew her next words would be.

With trembling lips she uttered, “Tommy you can have it if you want.”

“Mommy,” Tommy said questioningly

“You can have me there if you want me.”

“Mommy it would be a gift, yes, I want your gift; not now; after supper when we go to bed.”

With practicality of thought Ellen asked, “Do you have Vaseline in the first aid kit?”

“Yes.”

“Get it out, we’ll need it.”

She rose from the mattress and got the tissue saying, “I need to potty.”

Outside she slid her feet into her sandals and walked off into the woods.

Her tummy was unsettled, her bowels were roiling, she was going to have diarrhea, and she knew it so she headed toward the slit trench. She squatted over it and it poured out of her, not just a movement of her bowels but days, months, years of retained secrets. Secrets no one knew. Tommy, at least not now, not yet didn’t need to know all of her secrets; she wiped, scooped some dirt in and walked back to their camp.

“Tommy, I’d like to skip dinner tonight, my stomachs a little queasy, I can fix you something a little later if you want.”

“No I don’t want to eat, I want to enjoy you, nothing else, just to enjoy you; let’s go sit on the blanket, maybe just hold each other and talk?”

Ellen was pleasantly surprised by Tommy’s sensitivity, he seemed to be reading her, that’s what she really, really wanted, she wanted to feel his strong arms encircling her, perhaps his hands on her breast while he cooed into her ear. She prayed that he wouldn’t be in a rush to get what she’s promised.

He wasn’t, he didn’t try to rush her, he even kept his hand off her bottom; she was lying, her head in his lap.

“Mommy, you’re tense” he said as he gently rubbed her back, just relax, you’re safe with me. I won’t ever harm you and nobody else will either if I can stop it.”

She just sighed; she had never felt more loved.

“Mommy you’re afraid, scared; I won’t hurt you, I’d never hurt you, tell me what’s the matter, tell me about your fears.”

He cared, he really cared, about how she felt about everything that bothered her, she was his Mommy and he was her son: he loved her like a child does his mother and he loved her like a man does his lover.

Suddenly it poured out of her, like her guts had poured into the trench; she told it all, she confessed and confided but she told it all; the degradation when is started, how he’d given her a thrill, about her first orgasm, everything, thirty-six years, her Da had first penetrated her thirty-six years ago, how she’d hated him, how she’d loved him, about her confusion. She buried her head in his lap and she sobbed.

He let her cry, it was a catharsis, her purging thirty years of memories, secrets only she carried; he let her cry.

He stroked her hair and rubbed her back, crooning, “My Mommy, my beautiful Mommy, no one can hurt you, never, no one can hurt you, you’re my Mommy and you’re my lover, darling woman you’re safe in my arms.”

She had a hard time catching her breath, finally she was able to say, “Tommy, I’m sorry, those were my secrets, I should never have involved you, please forgive me son.”

He rubbed her back and replied; “Now they’re our secrets. We’ve made a few secrets of our own this week, don’t you think? There is room for a few more; but after what you’ve told me, I think we’d better cancel for tonight.”

“No, please no, I do want it, but I don’t know if I can face another day like today, Tommy you must, you have to take me tonight, please son, tonight, won’t you?”

Rising to her knees and then standing she reiterated, “Tonight damn it, tonight,” She walked away.

Ellen needed some time for her thoughts, Tommy could take care of the physical part of dealing with her demon but to deal with the mental catharsis, well that was her burden.

She wandered into the woods, found a sunlight glen and lay upon the soft green grass, nude, upon the grass. She dozed and she dreamed. She’d idolized her Da but he was just a man, a weak man as her dream told her, no, he hadn’t forced her and no, he hadn’t raped her but, really, he’d given her no choice, not rape but coercion, oh that that old Irish blarney, he’d convinced her to let him flip up her night gown and take her.

With the clear head of an adult woman she realized what he’d done. He was still a handsome man; he could have had women, women who would have met his needs. Instead he went after his twelve year old daughter. She’d never thought about him in that way, it was always that she’d helped him in his need; for the first time in her life she hated him, the bastard, she thought, it had come to her, he didn’t love her, she wasn’t her Mam’s surrogate, she was an available sperm repository with no risk of pregnancy, not the way he had her, no risk. God, she’d piss on his grave when she got the chance.

Still, there was tonight to deal with, she didn’t know. Her knees felt weak, she sat, on the green grass she sat; she could hardly catch her breath. Between her stark realizations of what a miserable prick her father really had been and her promise to her son for later tonight, she collapsed, exhausted, not from labor but from stress.

Tommy had followed her, he gave her space, it was evident she had some demons to fence with but he wanted to be there for her if she needed him. He’d watched as she writhed; he was reminded of “The Exorcist” then he watched as she sat, bottom on the glen and back against a big oak tree. She whimpered, he could barely hear her muted words.

She spoke the words aloud “The bastard, the miserable bastard, these years oh these many years I’ve lived thinking I was his savior, that he needed me. His Irish blarney, screw that, his bull shit, he got me, he got his daughter, God may he burn in Hell”

Ellen sat against the tree trunk and sobbed, she realized the “Big Secret” that she’d lived with for thirty-six years was a lie and she, Ellen O’Riley, oh hell, Ellen Callahan had been the victim of a joke, his joke on her. She was forty-eight years old, she’d kept her little secret for all of those thirty-six years and now, a middle aged woman was sitting against a tree trunk in the middle of the North Georgia woods and she could only cry, cry for what might have been, cry for what never was, she sobbed.

Tommy couldn’t endure watching her pain, he wanted give a chance to fight her demon but, he could see, she was losing, he didn’t think of himself as her savior, her Saint George; he couldn’t slay her dragon, she’d have to do that herself, all he could do was try to give her a safe haven.

Ellen was startled, she hadn’t heard him; Tommy sat beside her against the trunk of the oak.

“Mommy, I’m here for you, I told you that before, I’m saying it again. You’re hurting and I can see your pain. It’s not new pain; it’s not I something that I can help with is it?”

She nodded her head, no.

“Are you sure Mommy, are you sure?”

“I’ll do anything for you; I really mean that, anything at all.”

Ellen listened to her son, she believed him; anything she asked he’d try to deliver. Her request was simple.

“Tommy, please stay here, just stay here for a few minutes, maybe five or ten then come to the tent, I’ll want you there then, please, for me?”

It was a simple request, “Sure, Mommy I’ll wait.”

First she went to the clothes line, her sleeping bag was dry. She rolled up as though she was readying it for storage but she put on top of Tommy’s and lay across it. It would work, her bottom was high enough; then she went back to the storage tent, he hadn’t gotten the Vaseline out yet, she did.

She went back to their main tent and waited.

Tommy gave her plenty of time, time she really didn’t need; didn’t want, she was going to give herself to her son tonight, to her that was a foregone conclusion, and yet still she waited. Her tummy started to roil again; he hadn’t come. Her nerves were clutching at her bladder; still she waited and he didn’t come.

She couldn’t take it anymore, she’d either pee herself or she’s have to go back outside; he hadn’t come.

Her bladder was begging for relief, she couldn’t keep it in, finally she put on her sandals and, naked except for her shoes she walked into the brush.

Relief, oh sweet relief she thought as her flow started. She hadn’t heard him, she hadn’t sensed his presence, from behind he cupped her crotch, she was flowing over his hand. She nearly fainted, she did fall backward he’d startled her so.

“Don’t stop Mommy, don’t stop,” Tommy said as he held her.

She really couldn’t have stopped even had she wanted to. Her bladder was full, she had to go; Tommy held her letting her flow over his hand.

When she was finally drained she asked him, “Tommy what are you doing, where did you come from and why did you do what you did?”

“Mommy, I followed you, when you went to the trench, when you damned your Da to hell for what he’d done to you when you were a little girl and then, when you collapsed at that tree trunk. I saw when you prepared our tent and finally when you came out here. Can you forgive me; I wanted to feel your heat.”

Perhaps for the first time it hit her it really hit her, of course Tommy was her son, he loved her because she was his Mommy, she’d been there for him for twenty-three years; all of his life, she’d fed him the colostrum from her breasts then her milk, she’d changed his diapers, she’d fixed his lunches and sent him to school and she’d given him her love, the unequivocal love that only a mother can bestow.

She was still squatting, she’d not put any clothes on, she was nude and Tommy hugged her, his hand was still wet, she realized where that dampness came from and she didn’t care, he was holding her, in the wilderness, she was squatting, still poised to drain her body, he still held her “down there,” his moist hand began to massage her.

“Will you come with me to the tent Mommy, he asked.

She melted; she fell back against him, “Tommy, help me, take me to the tent,” she pleaded.

He did, he circled her waist and helped her walk. Once over the threshold he helped her to lie down. Tommy knew why she’d put the rolled sleeping bag atop his but that wasn’t
how he used it. He sat her back against it, letting her sit up and he talked to her.

“Mommy, I’m here for you, I told you that; first you are my Mommy but beautiful lady you’re my lover. I told you I’d do anything for you; I meant exactly that; if Ellen Callahan my mother or if the soft sweet woman I’ve come to know and take immense pleasure from calls on me, I stand ready to defend.

“Tommy you really mean it don’t you, you’d go to the wall for me, wouldn’t you?”

“Mommy I’d wrestle a grizzly if it would protect you, you’re not just my Mommy, you’re my love, my lover.”

He means it, he really means it she thought, if she’d had panties on she’d have soaked them, as it was her juice streamed down the inside of her thighs.

“Tommy, take me now please, take me as your lover; tomorrow I’ll be your Mommy but tonight, make love to me, the way I want you, please.”

Ellen rolled to her stomach and crawled over the rolled up sleeping bag, her bottom was elevated, awaiting penetration, penetration she’d not endured for over thirty years. She plucked up the small jar of Vaseline and handed it back to Tommy.

He lubricated her, the greasy lube that she remembered but it was different, this was Tommy, she felt him as he guided his cock to her hungering opening, she relaxed and he thrust in.

Ellen moaned when he pierced her, there was some pain but it was endurable; she wanted him in her and he was. Slowly Tommy edged forward sliding deeper, her heat was unimaginable, he probed further, filling her guts; he was all the way in.

He paused, surveying her, her broad bottom spread before him, filled by him. He leaned forward and kissed her back saying,

“My beautiful Mommy,” he caressed her sides.

Ellen realized, I am beautiful, in Tommy’s eyes I am beautiful; not a forty-eight year old overweight woman with sagging breasts but a beautiful woman with her young lover. Her heart swelled, filled with love for him; she smiled and sighed contentedly.

His strokes were smooth; now he held her hips, massaging her as he filled her, long deep strokes. Below him Ellen shivered, he was exciting her. She whispered,

“A little harder son, a little faster, please?”

Tommy mounted her, letting her feel his weight, he plunged into her depths, plugging her, then out, emptying her then back up into her rectum then out, all the way out, then back, puncturing her anus and up into her bowels then back; fast driving strokes.

Ellen moaned but she was getting what she wanted; a reaming, a ramming, he was impaling her on his virile young cock

Tommy’s hips were slamming her bottom; the sound was audible, slap, slap, slap; he couldn’t maintain this pace long but that was alright, he was fucking his Mommy.

Ellen felt him swelling, knowing that he was ready to fill her; she began to tremble. His onslaught continued and she came, with a loud wail her orgasm ripped through her,

“Oooh Tommmmy, oooh Tommmmy…”

And Tommy blasted; his cum spewed forth, scalding cum gushed into her, pulse after pulse as he continued to pump, then more slowly and slower still until he was drained.

Ellen lay limp over the sleeping bag, Tommy rested on her back until his flaccid penis fell out.

He dismounted and knelt at her side then helped her to lie with him.

Quietly, he embraced her; they lay for long minutes without speaking, eventually Ellen broke the silence,

“Tommy take me home tomorrow, please, we can fish for our breakfast and swim but tomorrow afternoon I want to go home.”

Tommy was afraid that he’d angered her, offended her. He started,

“Mommy, I’m sorr…”

She interrupted, “No, no son, it’s nothing you’ve done; it’s something I have to do.”

They slept arm in arm.

Early next morning they got their rods and went to the pool. Each got a nice trout; Tommy dressed them and fried them up.

After breakfast they swam for two hours then got out and lay on the blanket.

After lunching they started to break camp; by two they were ready for the hike out and by five the Cherokee was packed and they were on their way.

“Tommy I want to make one stop before we go home, ok?”

“Sure Mommy.”

Near their home was a little Irish pub, she directed him to it.

They took a table and she ordered,

“Two shots of John Jameson’s best and Guinness Stout chasers, if you please, and bring the tab with you we’re only going to have the one.”

When the barmaid returned she paid and tipped her. Once she’d gone Ellen lifted the shot, Tommy did the same.

“A toast,” she said as they clinked glasses, “To Liam Patrick O’Riley, may you burn in Hell.”

She downed the whiskey in a single gulp and followed it with the Stout, “I’m ready to go home now.”

In the driveway she said, “Let’s leave the unpacking until tomorrow.”

Once inside she suggested that they both shower, she’d meet him in the living room later.

When Ellen came out she was wearing an old flannel night gown, worn and dated, it came to her feet, a style of nearly forty years distant.

Tommy was lounging on the sofa; he was wearing only his robe. She took his hand saying,

“Come with me Tommy.”

She led him to her bedroom. On the night stand was a jar of Vaseline, she handed it to him and bent over the bed.

“Flip up my nightie Tommy,” she asked in a voice husky and low.

He raised her gown over her hips, displaying her. He parted her cheeks and lubricated her then stepped up and pierced her.

Ellen’s mind was reliving her nightmarish past but now, her private dragon was being slain, done away with on the blade of her son’s sword.

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