— ************** do what they must

I left home because of mother. Why? Because from the time I was f******n I'd fallen in love with her, or put more bluntly, I wanted to fuck her. Living with her meant a constantly high level of sexual frustration and I thought that one day, in an unguarded moment, I might do or say something that would reveal my secret lust.

At the time of my leaving home mother was of course in her early forties, but this had done nothing to diminish what I think of as her allure. Tall, with dark hair and eyes to match, she had an athletic figure, but she was not what might be called beautiful; her nose and jaw were too emphatic, and because swimming was her favourite exercise her shoulders were broad and her limbs muscular; and such strongly built women are not always attractive to a lot of men.

And yet mother did attract men and it took until I was in my teen years to work out why. She had a striking presence and it was as if the way she stood, walked, sat and talked conveyed a challenging carnal message, but there was more to it than that.

At any social gathering men sought her company and I came to understand only too well why she drew men, including me, to her. She exuded a palpable sexual fragrance like musk oil, but more intoxicating than any perfume. I sometimes wondered if it would ever fade, and decided, it never would. She was one of those rare women who even in old age would still radiate sex appeal.

My father didn't seem to mind the way mother drew men to her, in fact he seemed to revel in it because he had what they all wanted, and I'm as sure as I can be that mother was never unfaithful to him.

* * * * * * * *

At age twenty two I graduated from the university BA (Hon). The plan had been for me to go on to further studies, but instead I applied for and got a job with the Government of Victoria. That I thought would get me well away from Adelaide and South Australia and consequently away from mother and temptation.

When I announced that I was leaving there was a hell of an argument with father and mother; "Your ruining your whole future," and stuff like that. I didn't reveal my main reason for leaving home, instead proclaiming my need for independence, striking out on my own, and getting life experience.

I had read that sons are often sexually attracted to their mothers but it also said that this will pass "When a more appropriate sex object enters the life of the young man." Well, I'd experienced several "appropriate sex" objects and they'd done nothing to quell my hankering for mother.

And so I left home with father's admonitions still ringing in my ears and the memory of mother's tears, little realising what lay ahead.

A couple of weeks after I started the job I struck it lucky. Theresa, a widow in her late forties and the mother of five c***dren all of whom had left home, and she worked in the same department as me. She took a fancy to me. She was a pleasantly plump and full breasted lady, and a few lunches together and then dinner at her place led very quickly to being in bed with her and my penis in her vagina. As a result of this encounter I changed lodgings and lived with Theresa.

My previous sexual experiences had been with girls my own age, but now I discovered the pleasures of sex with an older woman. For a start condoms had always been involved in my previous sexual experiences, but as Theresa said, "I'm past the age of c***d bearing so we can have it raw." It was great; I could really feel her vagina and its wetness, and there was something special about knowing that my sperm was really going into her. I learned a lot of things about what a woman likes, and in fact she insisted on us doing things I'd never even thought about before.

I can remember the first time we had sex; we stood in her bedroom naked looking at each other when Theresa, looking at my erect penis said, "My word, you re a big boy."

I suppose that in general I am fairly well built and muscular since I'd followed in mother's exercise footsteps, swimming, and so at first I took Theresa's comment to be about my general appearance, which was flattering. It was only as I penetrated her vagina with my penis that she made it clear that her "big boy" comment had referred to the size of my penis.

I had never considered it to be overly large, not having made comparisons with other penises, but as I penetrated deep into Theresa she moaned, "Oh my God, Adrian, I've never had one so big in me before." That was also flattering in a way, and it was also another learning experience.

We weren't in love; we were a couple of people who were meeting each others sexual needs and enjoying it. Right from the start Theresa had pointed out that one day I'd probably want to get married and have k**s, and she certainly couldn't provide the latter. "So let's enjoy ourselves while we can," she said, "and when it's over we'll have happy memories of our time together. "Mind you," she added, "I'll always envy the girl who gets your cock in her vagina."

Well, she was right, I certainly enjoyed myself, and I can now say that I do have happy memories of sexually voracious Theresa, who among other things had a penchant for consuming the male organ and its glutinous discharge.

I've sometimes wondered if her late husband's demise had been because of Theresa's ravenous sexual appetite.

* * * * * * * *

Despite my good times with Theresa it was still my mother that I craved. I suppose the difference was that I wasn't in love with Theresa, but I was in love with my mother.

Having made the move away from her and home I only visited home once during that first year, and that was something I was going to come to regret.

A couple of years before I left home I'd noticed that father seemed to be having difficulties breathing and in the morning I could hear him coughing painfully in the bathroom. When I asked what the trouble was I was told, "It's just a touch of bronchitis." I should have known I was being fobbed off.

During that one visit home I noticed that father's cough had got even worse and he had lost weight and the slightest physical effort seemed to exhaust him, and he had always been a physically well set up man and very active. Despite this I still didn't realise just how sick he was, but that seemed to be the way in our family, we never made much of sickness, but if it was bronchitis it had to be the longest bout in human history.

Full realisation only came when one evening mother phoned me and said, "I think you'd better come home, your father is very sick and he's in hospital;" For her to make such a call meant that there was something very seriously wrong with father.

I managed to get an early morning flight to Adelaide and took a taxi from the airport to our place in Walkerville, to be met by mother who was utterly distraught. I had arrived too late, father was dead.

What I learned was that the so-called bronchitis had in fact been emphysema; an abscess had formed in his lungs and burst, and before any antibiotics could take affect, he died.

Mother seemed to be in a lost world so it was left to me to organise and deal with the funeral administrivia. The service took place at the Enfield Crematorium and during the service mother clung to me as she gazed unbelievingly at the coffin as if somehow father wasn't really in there. She remained like that until the coffin passed out of sight on its way to its fiery end.

During the wake that followed mother was locked into a world of grief, and it was only after the mourners, friends and relatives had finally departed that she began to come out of this cloud of misery sufficiently to talk.

Grieving myself, and feeling guilty that I hadn't recognised earlier my father's condition, I had to be mother's comforter. During the rest of my stay I often sat holding her for long periods of time as in a monotonic voice she went over and over the events leading up to father's death, and interspersing this with memories of their life together.

It was as she dwelt on past memories that I heard a lot of things that I'd only previously guessed at. Mother's guard was down and she went so far as to talk about her sex life with father, which she implied involved sexual intercourse every night until he started to get sick. I must admit that as a k** I'd wondered what the noises were that had emanated nightly from my parent's bedroom.

Again and again as she sadly reminisced she said, "I've lost half my life, and there'll never be anyone to replace Jack" -- my father's name. I wondered about this because a woman who had been so sexually active surely must in the end seek someone who could satisfy her need. I certainly knew of one person who would happily fix what I thought must be her overactive sex drive; namely, me.

I'd often wondered if mother had detected my sexual feelings for her, and towards the end of my stay with her she started to talk about how close we were, and she knew that I loved her, and to my dismay she even hinted that she knew why I had left home.

The time I could spend with her was limited. I had to return to work, but before I left mother appealed to me to come back home to stay. I knew that now father was dead mother was more vulnerable, or perhaps it as me who was more vulnerable. If I lived alone with mother I might give in to temptation, and I thought this would lead to disaster as far as my future relationship with mother was concerned.

I came up with my old excuse about being independent, but as mother said goodbye to me at the airport I nearly relented. She clung to me weeping and that musk aroma was very noticeable, and she kissed me as if we were two lovers parting and I boarded the aircraft trying to hide a heart pulsating erection.

Throughout that flight back to Melbourne I wondered if I'd thrown away a golden opportunity to at last make love with mother, but I knew that sometimes people when they are bereaved can become incredibly sexually aroused as they seek solace. It's as if one emotion flows into another, and I wasn't ready to take advantage of such a situation.

I returned to Theresa who having been bereaved herself didn't try the talk fest and simply let me talk and make love with her. I must say that the sex did help to assuage my grief and I started to get things in perspective.

* * * * * * * *

During the following year I made a point of visiting mother at weekends at least once a month, flying over simply to see how she was going. I could never be sure what sort of mood I would find her in, but whatever her mood she was incredibly clingy. This made things difficult for me because despite my sex life with Theresa, mother was the woman I really wanted.

Things seemed to level out towards the end of the first year after father's funeral. The story was that mother had met dad while she was studying at university. They had fallen in love and mother became pregnant and they got married. This was no news to me because in going through my father's papers I had found my birth certificate and my parent's marriage certificate. The consequence had been that mother had given up university.

Now mother was thinking about resuming university studies as a mature age student. This was a good sign as far as I was concerned; mother wanting to pick up her life again, and I did all I could to encourage her. She was after all in a financial position to not have to work, a position, I thought rather ruefully, that I might have been in if I hadn't chosen to leave home.

It was during a telephone conversation with mother that she announced that she'd made up her mind and would go ahead with studies. She went on to say that it was some time before the new academic year was due to start, and she suggested that we spend some time together at the house on Kangaroo Island.

The house had been a gift from my father to my mother not long after they got married. Situated on the North West corner of Kangaroo Island, isolated and somewhat dramatically poised on the top of a cliff, we had spent many holidays there, although we hadn't been there for nearly three years. I think that had to do with my father's encroaching sickness, but when we weren't using it we sometimes rented it out.

Below the house is an inlet created by the cliffs that curved round to form a narrow outlet to the sea beyond, and at the bottom of a track down the cliffs is a small beach.

My immediate response to mother's suggestion was negative, not a good idea, because if mother lived up to her past mode of dress when at the house, which to say the least was distinctly casual, I knew I would be in for a throbbingly erect penis for most of our stay.

I reluctantly changed my mind when mother, somewhat reproachfully, said that we hadn't had much time together ever since I'd left home, and this might be our last chance to be together for some time. She obviously hadn't counted the time I spent with her after father's funeral, but I let that pass.

I had some leave owing to me but when it came to agreeing how much time we would spend on the island some negotiating took place. Mother wanted a month but we finally agreed on a fortnight. I must admit that I had in mind my separation from Theresa who served as a sort of sexual safety valve for my demanding libido.

* * * * * * * *

The day before we were due to leave for the island I flew into Adelaide and was met by mother driving the four by four. She greeted me with unexpected exuberance and a close embrace that nearly took my breath away. The last time I had seen her she had been somewhat pale faced and wilting, but now she seemed to have recovered much of her allure and there was that faint aroma of musk about her.

She seemed to be very excited and at the same time tense, and that embrace and the kiss she gave me went on longer than might be expected of a ************** airport greeting. When it ended I noticed some nearby people looking at us and grinning.

On the drive home mother chattered *****santly and this was not her normal way. I was wondering if she was suppressing some exciting news until we got home, but when we got there no such news was forthcoming. She made a great deal of fuss over me and I couldn't recall ever seeing her like this before.

Mother had made all the necessary preparations for our time on the island and early next morning we were on our way to Cape Jarvis and the ferry that would take us across to Penneshaw. From there we drove west on a bitumen road until we turned off on to a dirt road. A few kilometres along this road we came to a gate. I opened it and mother drove through, and then we were lurching along a rough track for about fifteen minutes until we reached the house.

Our arrival seemed to be a bit of an anti-climax and we spent the rest of the day stowing our gear and supplies, sweeping up dust and cobwebs and searching for signs of any invading rodents, and by late evening making vague plans for the next day.

That night I was restless. Being in an isolated place and alone with mother seemed somehow to be different from being at our Walkerville place. My mind focussed on mother in the bedroom next to mine: was she asleep or as she awake and thinking of the times she had shared the bed with father? What was she wearing or did she like me sleep naked? What would she do if I tried to take my father's place in that bed?

I had no Theresa to alleviate my sexual need and so I did what I hadn't done for a long time, I masturbated. As I ejaculated it was not Theresa I fantasised, but mother, and when I finally slept I dreamed of making love with mother, but always when I was about to penetrate her vagina with my penis she faded away.

When I woke in the morning I could hear mother already moving around. Mother, in her usual organised way, had opted to do some more tidying up, while I, less concerned with household order, went fishing.

It was a warm day with the promise of becoming hot later. I went to a ledge along the cliffs that was close to the water where father and I had often fished when I was a k**. We had usually had a good catch, but now, after a couple of hours I'd caught just one leatherjacket which I threw back.

Bored with my fruitless efforts I decided to return to the house to see if mother was ready to go for a swim, going by way of the beach. As I approached the beach I saw that mother had deserted her household chores and was lying on an air mattress with a cushion under her head. Her eyes were closed and she seemed to be asleep.

Drawing close to her I felt my penis lurch and start to harden. Mother was wearing a pair of very tight shorts and a close fitting t-shirt. Beneath the t-shirt the swell of mother's breasts clearly indicated that they were unrestrained, rising and falling as she breathed evenly.

Her shorts exposed her long legs with their firm thighs, and where the material of the shorts passed under mother's crotch it seemed to sink into the groove formed by the clearly defined lips of her vulva, and I thought I saw a faint wetness staining the cloth.

I stood looking down at her, aching to penetrate that holy delta at the top of her thighs. Her eyes fluttered open and came to focus on me. She smiled and said, "I must have fallen asleep."

I guessed that the wet stain on her shorts indicated she'd had an erotic dream, and so I asked, "Sweet dreams?"

She looked startled and the hesitantly said, "Yes...yes very sweet," and for a moment she touched her groin and then hastily stood, her face flushing pink. I think she had detected the wet patch and was embarrassed by what it might reveal of her emotional state, but she couldn't hide her feelings because that musk fragrance was more potent than ever and I knew what it meant, and with every movement her breasts shimmied like a firm blancmange.

There seemed to be an electric tension between us, a question unasked, a desire unexpressed. I had my own source of embarrassment; my erect penis was moulded by the cloth of my shorts, and I could feel my urethra weeping precum. For a moment I thought we were going to kiss, but mother breached the silence.

"Did...did you catch anything?" mother asked in an unsteady voice, as if to distract us from the strained atmosphere that surrounded us.

"No," I said, and then dropped down on to the vacated air mattress, lying face down to hide my throbbing erection.

Mother hesitated and I could feel her eyes on me as she said, "I'll go up to the house and prepare lunch, are you coming?"

I was very close to coming, but not in the sense she meant. "No," I said, "I'll stay here for a while, just give me a call."

I watched mother start to make her way up the track, and when she got about half way she stopped, turned, and briefly looked down at me. She looked superb, her figure like a goddess of fantasy, perhaps Juno. I recalled that Juno was married to Jupiter and was at the same time his sister; an i****tuous relationship!

Mother turned and continued up the track, my eyes focused on her high firm buttocks until she disappeared into the house. I wanted her as I'd never wanted anything before in my life, and I wondered if I had again passed up the opportunity to fulfil this craving for her.

Mother called me for lunch from the top of the cliff and I made my way up as mother stood watching me for a few moments. I noticed she'd changed her shorts and I supposed I'd been right about mother having an erotic dream on the beach. I wondered who had been present in that dream.

The charged atmosphere between us continued, our conversation desultory, it was as if we both expected something to happen between us, but neither willing to make the move that would initiate that something. I thought I knew what that something was, but was afraid that if I took the step I might be wrong and I would shatter the relationship that I had with mother.

The day had grown hot and towards the end of lunch mother suggested something that would be an exquisite form of torture for me; swimming. Given mother's past record when she went swimming, she would be wearing a swim suit that while not ostensibly sexy, became virtually transparent when wet.

Somehow that seemed to characterise mother; she never wore anything explicitly sexy, or deliberately displayed the more erogenous zones of her body like the women wearing micro bikinis, but it was there, her physical attraction. I think it would be there even if she wore an old sack.

* * * * * * * *

As I expected it was an afternoon of torment. We took an extra air mattress down to the beach, and mother was wearing a one piece bathing suit that proved to be transparent when wet.

I needed very little stimulus to get horny over mother, but that afternoon was hell. We had our swim and then returned to the mattresses intending to stretch out on them, but we didn't because events took an unexpected turn.

My swimming shorts were too insubstantial to hide the fact that my penis was erect and its head was beginning to escape the confines of the top of the shorts. I couldn't make a move to realign my penis to try and conceal its condition because that would draw mother's attention to it, but she saw it anyway.

She must have noticed my erections on other occasions, but this time she seemed to be fascinated; perhaps it was the exposure of its head. We got as far as the mattresses, but there we stood still, looking at each other, mother's gaze fixed on my penis that was now weeping precum, while I stared at her breasts moulded by her bathers. Then there was a moment when our eyes met and held; mother seemed to take a faltering step towards me, and then giving a gasping cry she turned and fled up the track to the house.

I stood, frustrated and bewildered. I was sure that we had come close to doing what I was now certain we both wanted, but once again the moment had passed, and this time it was mother who had escaped what might have been the taboo fulfilment of our love.

I pulled myself together and carrying both mattresses I made my dejected way up the track and entered the house. All the rooms led off from and central living area and I could see the door to mother's bedroom was shut. I could hear faint cries coming from her room and realised that she was masturbating. There was nothing for it but to masturbate myself.

I went to my own bedroom, pulled off my swimming shorts, and lying on the bed I began to masturbate. It didn't take long before sperm surged out of my urethra as I struggled to suppress my cries of longing, my need to put that sperm in mother's vagina.

As a method of relieving sexual tension masturbation is a poor substitute when you have a real sex object that you love and lust for, and that's how it was with me in relation to mother. She and she alone, could satisfy my sexual appetite, and as I cleaned up my sperm and rose from the bed, I felt even more gloomy.

I dressed but hesitated to leave my room. I felt as if I couldn't face mother, but eventually I had to. Mother was there at the kitchen end of the living area peeling some potatoes. Her back was toward me, but she must had heard me because she turned her head to look at me and then turned quickly away.

There was something furtive about our behaviour, as if we were either embarrassed or ashamed at having masturbated, or more likely the reason why we had masturbated.

I wanted to offer to help mother, but there seemed to be a barrier between us that vetoed even that. I escaped the overpowering atmosphere by leaving the house and taking a walk along the cliff top. It was a long walk and by the time I returned the evening meal was ready.

* * * * * * * *

The meal was eaten in silence, the all-encompassing mood of sexual stress becoming even tenser. I felt as if something had to give, or mother and I would be doomed to a fortnight of torment. I was close to saying or doing something -- I didn't know what -- to break this intolerable tension when mother suddenly rose from the table and left the house.

Where she went I don't know even to this day, but I know she was gone for nearly an hour, leaving me to do the clearing away and washing up.

It was starting to get dark and I was worried about mother and was just about to go in search of her when she walked in. She had a strange look on her face, rather like that lost world look she'd had for a while after father's death. I wanted to go to her as I did then, but I couldn't face the consequences if I touched her.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

She looked at me blankly, her eyes opaque, giving nothing away about her feelings, and then she said in a lacklustre voice, "I'm fine, I'm going to have a shower and go to bed."

"So early," I asked.

"A long walk," was her only reply as she made her way to the shower.

As I listened to the hiss of the shower I conjectured that during that walk mother had been remembering the walks she'd had with father, and perhaps some of the more cherished things they did during those walks. The way the house was it would have been difficult to conceal the noises of copulation and a "walk" might have been a way of overcoming the problem.

I had in fact seen them making love once, not while out for a walk but down on the beach when they thought I was off walking, but I was only about six or seven at the time and didn't really understand what they were doing. All I could see was mother sitting across father and bouncing up and down on him.

The noise of the shower stopped, and after a while mother emerged wrapped in a towel and carrying her clothes. She muttered "goodnight" and disappeared into her bedroom.

I was starting to think that the best thing for both of us was to return to Adelaide and then I would go on to Melbourne and Theresa.

* * * * * * * *

The heat of the day did not dissipate with the coming of night, and I lay naked and restless on top of the bedclothes. I was aware of every noise in and around the house as its timbers creaked slightly and the sound of possums arguing or copulating on the roof.

I thought of mother lying in the room next to mine and I wondered if she was also awake. Perhaps not, I thought, after her remark, "a long walk."

The thought of mother so close gave me an erection, but then, my penis had been erect for most of the day. I'd just got started masturbating when I heard a sound that was neither the house creaking or possums copulating, but the sound of someone moving around the house.

It had to be either mother or an intruder who thought the house was unoccupied as it often was. I got up to investigate and entering the living area I could see immediately it was mother.

She was no longer moving but was standing in front of the big picture window that looked out towards the sea. It was nearly the time of the full moon and I could see its beams silvering the little waves in the inlet.

Those same beams shone on mother. She was wearing a gossamer thin night dress and I could see her nakedness clearly. I stood still and silent, gazing at her, but I must have made some sound, or mother must have instinctively detected my presence. She turned to me; with her back to the moonlight I couldn't see her face, but she glided towards me coming to stand right in front of me and close. Her musky aroma was more compelling than ever.

She put her hands behind my head and drew my face to hers and she kissed me slowly and deliberately, as if giving me time to draw back.

Her eyes were closed at first, but when they opened she said, "You know what must be, Adrian?"

"Yes," I said.

She kissed me again, the tip of her tongue flickering across my lips until my mouth opened and her tongue slipped in to begin its slow exploration. Our bodies were clinging together and mother began to gyrate her pubis over my hard penis. I took one of her breasts in my hand and began to caress it through the cloth of her flimsy nigh dress, and then our kiss ended. Mother took a step back and her nightdress seemed to shimmy down her body leaving her naked.

She came to me again, pressing her body to mine, and then she began to sink down on to the carpet, drawing me down with her'

She stretched out like a sensuous feline beneath me on the carpet, and parting her legs and raising them bent at the knees to present her vagina to me she said, "Do it to me now darling." She took my penis into her hand and saying, "Your so big darling," she guided me into the wet paradise that was her vagina.

"Photos http://cpmlink.net/doc_AA

"I love you," I said, and in the dim light I could see the flash of white teeth as she smiled and said, "I know, and I love you."

As I slid my full length into her I could feel her vagina spasmodically clasping my penis as if trying to draw me even deeper into her. I withdrew and then thrust into her again and she cried out, Photos http://cpmlink.net/doc_AA "So good...so good...deeper darling...deeper..." And then after a few more thrusts into her she cried out, "I'm coming darling...I'm coming...come with me...please come with me..."

Her legs were wrapped round my waist as with my hands under her buttocks I dragged her on to me. I released my sperm deep into her as she wept and sobbed beneath me, begging me to fill her. I don't think I'd ever ejected so much semen before, and I wanted the anguish of my orgasm to go on for ever, but of course it didn't.

I felt a most wonderful sense of deep contentment and fulfilment as I finished, but mother continued to squirm and sob beneath me for some time, pleading with me not to leave her. I stayed with her until with ever diminishing whimpers her orgasm came to an end.

We lay, my penis still in her vagina, breathing heavily and the heat of the night had made us very sweaty. After a while mother said again, "I knew it had to be," and added, "Was it good for you darling."

"Yes," I replied, "it was wonderful, so beautiful, but you must have known how I felt."

I saw the flash of mother's teeth again as she smiled, and quickly she rolled away from under me and I ended up on my back with mother leaning over me saying, "It was wonderful for me too, and it always will be, you know that, don't you my darling?"

Yes, I knew that. Having experienced the beauty of sex with one I loved, especially my mother, there was no going back, there was only going forward.

If that needed any reinforcement I got it almost immediately. My penis had grown partially flaccid and mother began to stroke it until it extended and hardened again, and then se said, "And now for your punishment."

Coated as it was with my sperm and her love juice and the aroma of musk, she took the head of my penis into her mouth, sucking and licking, and gradually taking more of its length into her.

Even when I warned her I was going to cum she did not relinquish it and I shot my cum into her eager mouth. When it was over the sperm she had been unable to swallow hung in sticky tendrils around her mouth and chin.

We both reeked of sweat and sex and mother quite calmly said, "I think we'd better have a shower darling."

Later, in her bed she drew my penis or my tongue into her vagina again and again with unhurried delight, and as night gave place to the first streaks of the coming dawn we finally slept, her back to me and my penis between her thighs.

For the rest of our stay on the island I found her out in all her needs and magic; her pains and her pleasures; what she wanted and how she wanted it. We explored each other, she with the heightened libido of long denial. We swung between savagery and gentleness, and what we did might be seen as depraved, but it was saved from this by being encompassed by deep love, and such love allows all within the limits of the other's desire.

* * * * * * * * The time came for us to leave the island that had become for us an island of joy and deep satisfaction. There was no further need for me to try and escape from mother since we now belonged together. What remained for me to do was to resign from my job, say goodbye to Theresa, return to mother and then take up my abandoned studies.

It took me about a month to wind up my affairs in Melbourne, and most difficult of all was telling Theresa that there was someone else. I didn't dare tell her who that someone else was, and so she imagined some girl I'd met.

She was somewhat obsessed with the idea of me and this girl having lots of babies; perhaps that was because she'd had five of her own, and she waxed lyrical on the subject.

It was probably a betrayal of mother, but Theresa had been so generous with me that I spent one final night fucking with her, and there were tears on both our parts as we said our last goodbye.

When I arrived back in Adelaide mother had news for me; it looked as if Theresa's ideal of my having c***dren was to come true, even if in a limited way compared to her own productivity in that department. Mother was pregnant.

I was surprised because I thought that mother, like Theresa, was past the time when she could get pregnant. Mother was very wary because she thought I might desert her again. That thought did not occur to me, but it did take me a little while to get used to the idea of being the father of my own brother or sister.

As for mother, she went so far as to explain that she and my father had always intended to have more c***dren, but it had never happened. Now she was delighted that I'd impregnated her, even in the light of the risks that involved.

As is happened she gave birth to a girl who rather than inheriting the worst of us, inherited the best. Sadly I never managed to impregnate mother again, but we did remain ardent lovers until quite close to the time of her death.

I had twenty two years with mother as her lover and now in my forties I live with my daughter. She seems to have inherited from her mother that musk aroma that is often quite potent, and it makes me wonder.

I hope she doesn't follow in her father's footsteps and try to flee from what might have to be.

Shortly we shall be spending some time together at the house on Kangaroo Island.