by Wickedsmile
I saw the island lie in the bay. It had already been an hour since I had seen the last car, a rusty pickup with a gun rack, pass us by in the other direction. The solitude of the countryside was already getting on my nerves, but this was madness.
My mother and I were about to take up residence in the black hole of the world, convicted to stay there until I was old enough to be set free, which was five years in the future if I wanted to go to university — or when my mom decided to sell me to the highest redneck bidder.
“Do you like it?” Mom asked me with a big smile.
I swallowed in a remark about drowning myself and staying here as a ghost who would warn any thinking city girl like myself to stay far, far away.
Still, the sight was quite beautiful. The island had a slight cone shape and big trees grew on it. From where we were at that point I had no idea the island itself would be.
Some bird with a vicious design flew over the water and casually plucked a fish from it. The fish contorted, unable to escape the sharp talons and I sympathized with it: it had also nowhere to go.
Then another sign of civilization, quite literally: three miles to go to Salmon Creek, population: 1,230. Civilization? My last high school had more students, damn it! I saw myself playing banjo and harassing people with canoes and chewing tobacco.
But Mom seemed happy, or perhaps elated was a better word.
She was a strong woman, but a sucker for stupid men and the last one had crawled out of one of the deeper circles of hell. So when my uncle died, he proved a fairy godfather with an island as our heritage.
I knew Mom needed a break desperately, so I played the game along in the realization that she would be screaming for take away pizza and noodles in no time.
But the glint in her eyes told me that she was falling truly, madly, deeply in love with this place. Maybe some dormant caveman genes had kicked in when Mom was confronted too much fresh air, but mine stayed comatose. They’d need more than a shot of adrenaline and a defibrillator for me to like this place, let alone stop despising it.
So here I am in a truck with the remnants of our lives, I mused, entering the dark ages.
I shifted my ass to prevent it going numb and looked out to see whether I’d missed a rabid bear or some manic lumberjacks lurking in the woods.
“We’ll pick up some supplies in the town and head over to our new home,” Mom said with a wide grin.
I smiled weakly and looked out again.
The town itself lay on the shore and it was…charming, in a quaint sort of way. My eyes that were trained to spot every kind of comfort drew blanks over and over again: no Blockbuster, no Wendy’s, Burger King, Domino’s, I would even have settled for a McDonald’s. There was one hotel with a restaurant, where I suspected the guests were handed out a knife to go and kill your own elk.
And a store, the kind I knew from movies I saw when there was nothing else on: the kind where you could buy anything: guns, fishing nets, parkas and fur boots, but no Prada, Hermes. No music but two kinds: country and western.
We stopped by the shop and the sea wind tugged at my fashionable skirt that suffered a quick death under the hands of Mother Nature. No more skirts here, in a couple of months time I would be eating meat raw off the bone and speak in monosyllables, wearing bear skin and making arrowheads out of flint.
We walked into the store, that confirmed the clichés: yup, there were the parkas, there were the red woolen shirts with black checkers and hey: over the counter there hung the head of a big elk.
A big woman with Native-American features walked up behind the counter and started to talk with Mom. I looked around to try and find something, anything that would be a sign that I wasn’t completely left in the wilderness.
There was hair gel: the kind that could also be used to cure pelts.
“Brooke?” I heard my mother ask. With lead in my shoes I walked towards her.
The woman behind the counter smiled. “My, aren’t you a lovely girl,” she said. I felt like a cheerleader that had just crawled out of a crashed airplane after a miraculous escape from the jaws of death. Still, I nodded politely.
“So, you are the new inhabitants of Thunder Island?”
“Thunder Island?” I asked. Images of the lightning striking pounding the island over and over again started to flood my mind.
The woman laughed. “Legend has it that the island used to be a nesting place for the Thunderbirds.”
Thunderbirds? What — the car, the television series, the flight stunt team of the American Air Force?
“Thunderbirds were messengers for the gods. They had — or have — a wingspan of two canoes and as they flew, their wings beating the air would cause thunder and lightning flashed from their eyes,” the woman explained.
I let that information sink in. Until then, the only mythology that I had been confronted with were stories about prom dates gone horribly wrong or terribly well, depending upon whether the pregnancy was welcome or not. With a sudden sense of fatality, I realized I would have more than ample time to investigate popular folklore. Hmmm, supermodel and folklorist Brooke Ross.
Did I forget to mention that I have something of a penchant for nurturing oddball fantasies?
“You’ll need something warmer for this climate, at least now: spring is treacherous,” the woman said, “on the third aisle on your left is the women’s clothing.”
I couldn’t wait.
Mom went through a checklist for things to have, helped by the woman with things she had overseen or didn’t know were necessary. Item number one: an axe. Item number two: a rifle, just in case a bear got curious.
I stood there with white knuckles, trying to choke the life out of a woolen shirt. I chose some black clothes, not because I wanted to change into Supergoth, but mismatches in colors could be prevented better.
As I lay the clothes on the counter the woman must have seen some of my sadness, because she said: “Your school is thirty miles from here. It is a bigger town, where there is more clothing of your liking.” I just hoped that cotton was introduced there in the nick of time. I reached depths in my sarcasm that gave me enough breadth to cope with the alien surroundings.
We paid for our stuff an headed back for the truck, but not after we were invited to come over to the woman’s house later for a welcoming picnic. I just hoped that strangling bears wasn’t the highlight of the evening. Still, her hospitality seemed genuine and I knew better than to look ungrateful.
We drove along the coast a couple of miles until we turned onto a narrow levee that headed straight towards the island. The sea was choppy and licked the stones of the levee. I realized that when the weather took a turn for the worst, there would be no way in hell that we could get away from the island.
I could cry so hard I almost laughed.
When we drove onto the island I saw the house was built on the south side, safely protected from the northern winds by stone cliff four meters high and the trees. The house was made of wood and desperately in need of a fresh paint.
“Mary, the shopkeeper, told me that she knows a few people who could help fix the house,” mom said.
I just nodded and stepped out of the car. We walked towards the house and even Mom seemed to be taken aback by the work that lay ahead of us. The roof, the walls, all were in a state of disrepair, it seemed to most logical to thing to tear it down and build something completely all over again, like a bunker.
But most of all I noticed the silence. Apart from the wind and the sea we heard nothing. And the strangest thing was, that it didn’t freak me out. Actually, I found it quite soothing. Maybe those caveman genes were actually stirring in their torpor.
The house was not a mess, but clearly abandoned with the occupant not being able to clean it all up.
We walked through the cold house. Mom found the door to the cellar and went down and hey: there was electricity.
But no cable, no internet, just heat and light. These weren’t the dark ages, but the stone age.
I pictured myself drawing deer and other wildlife on the walls and started to laugh at myself.
When Mom returned from the cellar, the first thing she said was: “We’re going to have to get you a moped or something of the kind.” She took a deep breath and looked around. On the wall someone had nailed a board with the name of a ship that had probably washed up on the shore.
“God, you must be hating me so much right now,” she said wearily.
I looked her in the eyes sincerely. “No, I don’t, I honestly don’t hate you. It’s… different.”
“Liar.”
We grinned at each other. I walked up to Mom and gave her a hug. “We’ll be cool here,” I whispered.
She hugged me back and I wondered how a strong woman like her could be so vulnerable. And she was strong, because she squeezed the air out of me. “Can I breathe now?” I said with a choked voice.
“Sorry,” she let me go and wiped a tear from her eye. She sighed. “So, I’ll turn on the heating.”
“Let’s go and see the rest of the island, while we let the house heat up.”
She nodded, wiped away another tear and we left the house. Outside we looked at it. The place actually didn’t look that bad: a few planks had to be replaced, the roofing needed some work. I looked back down the levee at the woods and the snow covered mountains and felt myself begin to feel a bit better.
I nodded, smiled and looked at my mom. “We’re going to be okay here.”
She saw that I meant it, and I saw a heavy burden fall from her shoulders. She knew that I wasn’t being polite.
We started walking around and saw that the west side of the island had a small bay that was cut of the barren rock but was hidden from view. We walked up to the shore and saw little fish swim close to the bottom in the clear water. The north side and east side were all rocky and overgrown with ferns, undergrowth and trees that somehow had gotten hold of the soil in between the rocks.
And all around was this great unhindered view of nature. Apart from the town there was no sign of civilization. Just raw nature.
We climbed onto the peak of the island and looked around and I felt in a strange way at home. My ways had taken a turn for the simple kind: it was basic, pure. I liked the sound of it: pure.
I nodded my head in agreement with myself. “I could get used to this,” I said confidently.
And my mom hugged me there and then.
There on the peak of Thunder Island, I fell in love with the world.
****
Then that night, it started to rain.
The roof leaked. We walked around maniacally with pots and pans. Then we turned out the lights to prevent a short circuit, sat on the creaky couch under blankets, enjoying each other’s company and warmth. Mom let me have my first beer and we agreed to have one wall taken out and have it replaced by a single windowpane.
That night I was reborn under the sound of thunder and the flash of light.
The next morning we checked the damage, that turned out to be light. When we walked outside it was quite warm, another sure sign that spring was on the loose. We ate a quick breakfast and just couldn’t wait to go outside.
“So, what would you like to do?” Mom asked me over breakfast.
“I want to go to our bay and have a swim,” I said.
“Our bikinis are in a box somewhere.”
“Who said anything about bikinis?” I responded immediately, a bit surprised at myself. I wasn’t an exhibitionist, but something had broken loose inside and it needed to roar.
Mom paused for a moment, weighed the thought. “Yeah, why not.”
We giggled, ripped a few towels from our rucksacks and rushed to the bay. We spread a blanket out, then I practically tore away my clothes.
And then I saw Mom pull off her t-shirt. As she stretched out, I saw her breasts rise up, her toned muscles ripple under her flesh and a monster roared wildly inside of me.
Her pubic hair was trimmed into a neat stripe, her lips protruded from their fleshy nest like they were eagerly awaiting a kiss. God, my mother was beautiful.
I shook my head and ran with her into the icy water. My nipples hurt and turned rock hard. Yet in between my legs I felt a throbbing glow.
Mom’s breath was taken away with the cold. I grinned at her, dove down in the water and grabbed at her feet.
When I rose up to the surface, she seized me and pulled me close. Our cold bodies melted together. I couldn’t feel the ocean bottom as she held me. Our breasts rubbed against each other and through the numbness, a warmth spread through my body down to my pelvis.
Suddenly Mom kissed me on the mouth. I let her.
When she broke our kiss, she seemed confused. “Sorry…” she whispered.
I clasped my legs around her and felt the hardness of her belly muscles onto my vagina and my clit, a heat building between my thighs that I had been growing conscious of some time now. “No sorries,” I whispered. “I liked that.”
I seemed to be adding fuel to the fire, so I kissed Mom. Our lips slid together again and I felt that familiar warmth surge through my body.
When we broke our kiss, we just gazed into each other’s eyes.
Mom gave a coquettish smile. “I’m freezing.”
“Me too.”
“Let’s get out of the water.”
Hand in hand we walked out of the water, lay down on the blanket and let the sun warm our bodies. But even then, my nipples wouldn’t soften.
Mom had the same problem too. She turned on her side and looked with her green eyes at me.
I knew she was wallowing in another excuse for our inappropriate behavior. “I love you,” she breathed.
“I love you too, Mom,” I said and meant every word.
She wasn’t observing me, I saw, she was drowning in me. As I was in her.
In the sunlight a droplet oozed from Mom’s vagina, slowly ran down her thigh and left a glistening trail until it reached the towel.
Without a word I touched her vagina and got a trace of that moisture on my finger. I put my finger in my mouth and tasted it. It was salty.
Mom slid over to me and kissed me again, passionately. I let a hand wander over her skin and let the lust wash over me. She pulled me onto her and let our tongues flick in and out of our mouths. I felt her run her hands over my body, felt my honey drip onto her belly.
Somehow I managed to break our kiss and sit upright.
Confused, she looked at me until I grasped my breasts firmly and gave them a squeeze. Mom smiled and sat upright too. She took a nipple in her mouth and sucked. I grabbed her hair and cradled her face to my chest.
Suddenly I became aware of her hands on my bottom, her fingers homing in on my throbbing cunt. Mom looked up and grinned. “My, aren’t you wet.”
When Mom touched my vagina, I gasped. Slowly she moved her slick fingers up and down my slit. I started to moan as she moved her hand a bit quicker and touched my clit. Then she slowly pushed in a finger inside me. I grabbed her tightly and let her finger explore my insides. Then she pried in two fingers, which sent me to heaven.
My moaning became louder, I bit Mom’s neck as the waves increased in strength and rode her hand like a wild animal.
Then I came. It felt like a strong fist squeezed every droplet of ecstasy out of me.
I let Mom go and stared into her eyes while I caught my breath. Struggling onto my knees, I saw that her tummy and the towel she’d been resting on were soaked.
“Come here, baby,” she said and gave a tug on my legs that showed me where to go.
I positioned myself over her face and let Mom grab my thighs as she pressed her mouth into my vagina. Her rough tongue licked my opening and sucked on my clit. I looked down and saw that I was leaking so profusely that my honey was dripping down from her face.
I shrieked and felt my cunt contract while Mom licked me, sucked, swallowed what she could. I lost my balance, but she held me in place. I grabbed my breasts and kneaded them hard, while I felt an orgasm swell up again and pound my cunt until I begged her to stop.
When I opened my eyes again and looked down, Mom’s lower face had a thick sheen of my nectar, but she just licked her lips and smiled. “Yummy.”
I looked back and saw Mom’s legs spread out before me. I just turned around and looked at the engorged lips beckoning me. I enclosed my lips over her mound and let the tangy sweetness of her explode on my tongue.
I went down on my mother with everything that I had, and soon she began to coo and writhe under me. I licked her feverishly, while Mom’s breathing became more coarse and the spasms that rocked her body grew more intense.
And then she came. Warm honey flowed in a steady stream from her cunt, and I drank every drop.
“I can’t take any more,” Mom pleaded, but I wasn’t about let her go with just one orgasm. So I started to suck on her sweet clit again and started to insert two fingers in her vagina.
Mom yelped and tried to kiss my vagina again, but when I nibbled gently on her clit, she moaned and fell back.
I licked and fingered frantically until Mom shook, cursed and yelped until I couldn’t distinguish one orgasm from another. I just made love to her until my jaw and arm went numb.
Mom gave one last cry, then went limp.
I lay beside her and saw her delicious breasts rise up and down as she tried to control her breathing.
“Oh my God,” she said, “that was fantastic.”
We cuddled together and lay naked in the sun, staring at the sky. The only sounds we heard were from the sea lapping at the shore and the occasional cry from a bird.
“We can’t do this again,” Mom finally said. “It was beautiful, and I’m glad we got to love each other this way, but it needs to be a one-time experience.”
It was true and I knew it, so I nodded. She took my hand and tugged me upright.
With shaky legs we struggled towards the sea and cleaned ourselves. We smiled at each other, a bit shyly.
In the days that followed we did our best to suppress our mutual feelings, but we enjoyed the physical nearness of each other, the casual brushes in our confined space inside, the walking hand in hand outside. And the spring was still gaining strength.
Continue on to: Chapter Two!
