Adventuring

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When Robin was just one year old, I left my husband, Clive. It had all become too much to bear. His bullying, his attempts at psychological manipulation and control, his fantasy desire to watch me being raped and his contempt for me as a woman, sickened me to the point where I would tolerate it no longer.

In the years that followed, once Robin started school, I returned to the work for which I had trained as a speech therapist. This is well-paid work, and I was able to choose how many hours that I worked. My main focus was always Robin.

I fended off many approaches by men in the years after I left Clive, and as I have been told I am an attractive woman, there was quite a lot of fending off to do. I had my own needs, including my sexual needs, but I wanted no “live in uncles” for Robin, and although when he was still young I had got involved with a few men, it always seemed to end in demands I was not prepared to meet.

So it was that apart from masturbating, I lived a life almost as chaste as a nun’s.

I tried to make up for a lack of a male role model in Robin’s life, by doing what we came to call, “Adventuring.” If nothing else, this activity kept me very fit.

Our adventuring began when Robin was still quite young. We started by simply going out for walks around where we lived. I would point out the different kinds of trees and birds we saw. We progressed from there to hiking in the hills that skirt our city. When Robin entered his teenage years, we discovered that there was a chain of YHA Hostels across the hills that allowed for over a week of hiking along a trail that spanned the hills.

At one time I was tempted to buy a caravan so as to extend our range, but instead, settled for a tent. From then on, we were off adventuring whenever we both had free time, and weather permitting. In fact, on occasions we miscalculated the weather and managed to get soaked or our tent nearly blown away.

Robin seemed to thrive on our adventures – I think we both did – and he was forever pressing me to undertake yet another one.

To begin with, we shared the same double sleeping bag, but on becoming aware of his sexual maturation, I decided that separate bags were necessary. If the nights were warm, we would often get into the sleeping bag naked, and there were times when with his closeness to me, I thought I felt what seemed to be an erection that pressed against me.

It was not that I felt any aversion to his sexual arousal, I understood it too well. I hope you can see that at that time, I had not had sexual intercourse for years, and although my renunciation had been voluntary, this did not mean that I no longer desired sexual intimacy, on the contrary.

So, I admit to you that it was as much my reaction to Robin’s sexual excitement when in physical contact with me, that led me to sleeping in a separate sleeping bag, and not his erection in itself. The gentle pressure of his manhood against my body had brought about a throbbing in my clitoris and the discharge of vaginal lubricant.

I saw the danger and took the steps I thought necessary, but perhaps those steps should have been more radical. I might have suggested separate tents or even stopped the camping entirely, but I failed to do either. The hiking and the sharing had been too much a part of our lives, and to stop this did not then even cross my mind at the time.

You see Robin and I were very close. We were secure in each other’s love. I knew that one day, perhaps when he had to go away for work reasons, or when he got serious with a girl and married, we should be apart, but in the mean time I treasured every moment with him.

When he was a little boy, he used to sit on my lap and say, “I love you mummy, and when I grow up I’m going to marry you.” When he grew older the signs of his love were still there, and looking back now, one could almost say it was a courtship.

Being well remunerated financially, I was able to be liberal as far as his allowance was concerned. When he was at high school, he had a job for a few hours a week. He saved his money and then want to take me out to dinner at an expensive restaurant. I would protest and he would plead. We always ended up going to the restaurant, and often it was a champagne and candle lit dinner. In the following weeks I had to find surreptitious ways to replace the money he had spent.

Even when quite young Robin would become quite annoyed if he saw me speaking in a friendly way to a man. I thought this might wear off as he grew older, but on the contrary, he became even more possessive of me.

I saw all this and even thought I understood it, but failed to see the real poker oyna danger that lurked underneath. I told myself that his attachment to me stemmed from his insecurity at having only one parent. He did not even have any living grandparents, and being an only child myself, there was a lack of aunts and uncles. Apart from some friends, we were very much on our own.

As I think back now, I can see what ploys I adopted to mislead myself about what was going on. “It’s only a son’s love for his mother.” Even my recognition of his sexual arousal when in contact with me I wrote off as, “Just a growing up phase he’s going through.” The truth was, I did not want to acknowledge that it was more than these things.

The crisis came when Robin was two years into his university course. He hoped to follow my example and become a speech therapist. We had even talked of setting up a joint practice when he qualified.

It was the university mid term vacation, and we had decided on a trip to an island off the coast. We drove to the ferry and left the car in the ferry car park. Arriving at the island we set off on a hike to Frenchman’s Bay that involved a trek from the north side of the island to its south coast.

It took us three days to reach the bay, camping in our tent on the way. The bay is rarely visited, the only way in, being on foot, so we had the place to ourselves. Looking along the beach in both directions, not a soul could be seen as far as the eye could see. The weather was superb, and we pitched our tent just behind the bay’s beach.

We swam, lazed about on the beach, did some short walks through the bush behind the bay, and tried hand line fishing, with no success.

We had brought supplies to last an estimated three days, so our next move was going to be to the one substantial town on the island, Princess Town.

It was on the second day that “The event,” as I have since called it, took place. It was a blazing hot day, and we spent a great deal of time swimming, then lying around in whatever shade we could find. We were scantily clad, which was understandable given the heat and out constant dipping into the sea.

Throughout the day, I noticed Robin staring at me more than usual. I also saw repeated erections, and the sight of these had their effects on me. The throbbing in my clitoris became almost painful, and the thin piece of cloth that passed over my cleft, became soaked with my lubricant discharge. Part of the reason for my frequent flights into the water was to disguise this sign of my arousal. What I could not so easily hide, was the erection of my nipples as they pushed against the thin material of my bikini top.

I was so stimulated that I could barely keep still, which was another reason for my racing into the sea.

I could see that Robin was also very restless, and often lay so I could not see his hardened shaft.

One of the most studied aspects of humanity has been the reason why we do what we do. We might claim that there is no special reason for certain behaviour, but psychology seems to deny this. However we may hide and deny the cause of our action, it is there and capable of discovery.

If therefore, I tell you I do not know why we both went to bed that night, naked, or justify it by saying, “It was the heat of the night,” I am sure you would not be deceived.

I suppose we had been lying there on top of our sleeping bags for almost an hour. We were both hopelessly restless, but I had just begun to drift off to sleep, when I was startled awake. I felt my breast being touched – caressed.

It had been so long since I had been touched in that way that for almost a minute I let it continue. It was when I felt Robin lean over me and take a nipple into his mouth, that I made my protest.

“No, darling, no…please, don’t do that to me Robin…please. Darling, you must stop. You’ll only get me worked up…please…don’t…”

The truth was, he didn’t need to get me worked up, since I had been in a sexual frenzy most of the day, and like many things we repress, they only return in even more demanding mode. I tried, I really tried, to stop not only Robin, but also myself.

I begged and pleaded, and as he came over me and began to spread my legs, I tried to fight him off. The beautiful and strong body, the physique I had so much admired, his power, was my undoing. I was very fit myself, but I could not match his strength.

Robin began his own pleading; “Don’t fight me mother, please…please don’t fight me…I love you and want you.”

He forced my leg apart – or did I let him part them? Perhaps I shall never be sure what the answer is to that question. I felt the tip of his canlı poker oyna penis moving over my cleft, seeking entrance. My vagina felt distended, the lubricant soaking me, and my opening was not difficult for him to find.

As he found my entrance and began to slip into me, I made one last plea.

I knew I was still very fertile, and we had no contraceptives. “Please, please, my love…don’t…you’ll make me pregnant…you must stop…”

It was too late. Almost as soon as his length was in me, he gave a gasp, and his seed fountained into me with what felt like desperate urgency. His need must have been overwhelming. He poured into me and I surrendered to him, giving myself over to the sensation of his hot young sperm flooding me.

In that moment I no longer cared about incest or impregnation, it was my love, my longing, and yes, my lust for him, that burst through all the barriers that had held it in check for so long. I wanted him as I had never wanted any man before. I would have had a thousand babies with him rather than to never have him in me at all. He was from me and was part of me again. For the first time in many, many years, I felt a complete woman.

With a deep sigh, he ended his discharge into me. He did not withdraw from me, but lay in me; I felt his limbs relax. I was still in a state of tremendous sexual excitement and the mere presence of his shaft in me was enough.

My orgasm approached with sweetly agonising vibrations, until my whole body was shaking and the cries of ecstacy, that I at first tried to stifle, were torn from me. All control departed from me. I clung to Robin, tearing at his back with my nails. I smothered his face with saliva wet kisses, ending in digging my teeth into the base of his neck.

At the time, I was hardly aware of what I was doing. It was only next morning when I saw the wounds I had inflicted that I realised how violent had been my hunger for him.

My screams and cries of love seemed to be coming from someone else. I heard them but they did not seem part of me. Perhaps this was because never in my life had I experienced anything like the sensation my coupling with Robin had produced.

When I had calmed down, Robin withdrew from me, but if I thought that was the end of our love making, I was wrong.

In the dark of the tent I felt rather than saw, him move down my body. I felt his hands under me to raise my buttocks, then they moved to part the outer lips of my sex organ and something probed into the inner lips and beyond.

At first I was unable to identify what it was that was being done to me, then I realised; “It’s his tongue in me.” He moved from penetrating me to licking my clitoris. The mad whirl began again. He grasped my thighs as I began to shake, holding me firmly to him, and the ecstacy was upon me again.

I writhed, holding his head tight to me, screaming again, and pleading for him never to stop. I would have paid any price, endured any torture so long as I could suffer the dear torment of his flickering tongue.

Again I began to calm, but still he had not finished with me. He kissed his way up my body to finally bring his lips to mine, and open mouthed I tasted his sperm mingled with my own fluids.

Once tasting his seed, I hungered for more. I moved down to his once more erect shaft and took the crown into my mouth. I slid slowly down it at first, soaking it with my saliva, then, feeling him give a sudden heave, I speeded up my movements, and the delicious fluid came rampaging out of him. However much I tried to swallow, he gushed into me too rapidly, and the sticky liquid ran from the corners of my mouth.

This surplus semen served as the next mouth to mouth exchange and soon our faces were soaked with the juices of our loving.

For the moment, we were sated. We were soaked with a mixture of sperm, lubricant, saliva and sweat. We exuded the odour of recent sex, and lay recovering in the heat of the night.

“Let’s go and bathe,” I said.

We rose, and hand in hand made our way in the dark across the beach to the sea. Still holding hands, we entered the cool water, then commenced washing each other, scouring each other’s genitals. Invigorated, and without bothering to dry ourselves, we returned to the tent.

We lay on top of my sleeping bag face to face, trying in the dark to look into each other’s eyes. I moved one leg over him, and drew his penis into me. We lay in this state of exquisite communication, kissing, his hands roaming over my breasts, and reassuring each other of the love, we had for each other.
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It was a very sweet and gentle time. The violence of our frustrated craving for each internet casino other having now diminished, it was a time for tenderness. Robin barely moved in me, but constantly told me of the beauty of just being in me. After a long time, we came together, this time very quietly and sensitively. It was a moment when we were both trying to give expression to our commitment to each other.

After our climax had passed, we still lay together, Robin’s penis inside me, our arms about each other.

I began to try to assess what had happened, and what this would mean for the future. Our love had entered upon new territory, and as far as we were concerned, a previously unexplored region. We had crossed over a frontier and our “adventuring” had taken us to where we had no map but our love to guide us.

If this had been a “one night stand,” a moment of lust that once satisfied would be no more, then we might have ended it that very night, or at least, after a short period of time. I knew it was more than this. We had entered an Aladdin’s Cave of sexual delights, and the stone had rolled back across the entrance to imprison us within.

I felt Robin drift off to sleep, his relaxed manhood still inside me, and I followed his example.

I the morning when I woke, I noticed that we had not moved during the night. Amazingly, Robin was still inside me. I lay still, not wanting to part with him. As he woke, I felt his penis harden, and fully awake he began to move inside me forcefully. I clung to him, suiting my own rhythm to his.

“He’s going to be a morning person,” I thought. As it turned out, he was a morning, noon and night person. As he said later, “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to get enough of you.”

As with the first time he penetrated me, he came before I did, but unlike all the previous men I had been with, he did not withdraw as soon as he finished. He lay in me, and his mere presence in my tunnel was sufficient to bring me to orgasm. As I climaxed, he stroked me, whispering words of love.

The day after our night and early morning love, we were intending to move on to replenish supplies. As it happened, we had just enough to see us through the day and breakfast the next day, so we decided to stay a little longer in the bay. As Robin said, “This is our Wedding Bay.” Ever after, the bay has ceased to be Frenchman’s Bay, and for us became “Wedding Bay.”

All that day we were either swimming or making love. Robin seemed to be able to produce an endless supply of semen, and after my long sexual drought of many years, I seemed to be trying to catch up. Then, and ever since, I have reciprocated Robin’s feelings in reverse, “I would never be able to get enough of him.”

From fighting myself, and then, however feebly, trying to fend Robin off, I had submitted to him completely. But then, in his way, he also submitted to me. There was nothing we could not do to and with each other. At times, our union was violent, but it only happened that way when we were both desirous that it be so. There seemed to be a spiritual bond between us, each knowing the other’s thoughts, feelings and desires, and ever ready to meet them.

I had read of men and women almost becoming one. When apart they were less than their selves; together they were whole beings. Until Robin, I had never come anywhere near that sort of relationship. Now I was almost complete. There was just one more step to go.

That step had in fact already been taken. I waited until I had full medical confirmation, then announced my pregnancy to Robin. I was a little doubtful what his response would be. I need not have doubted. He smiled, kissed me and said, “You won’t be able to leave me now, will you?”

I began to protest, “But Robin, I never thought of…”

He laughed. “I know you haven’t, any more than I’ve thought of leaving you. After all, when I graduate we have that partnership to form.”

If I had any thought that the partnership was his real motive in the relationship with me, he quickly proved me wrong, when, after kissing me again, he said, “Thank you”.

I was not sure what he was thanking me for, and I said so.

“For having a baby with me.”

If further proof of his devotion was needed, he gave it to me as he took me to bed, and through what he did with me in bed.

As I write, the youngest of our three children has become old enough for us all to go “Adventuring.” Robin and I have decided that a visit to Wedding (sorry I should write Frenchman’s) Bay is in order. “It will give us inspiration for the next twelve years,” he said, “And a break from the practice.”

I agree that we need a break from the practice, but neither of us really requires the sort of “inspiration” Robin had in mind. Every day (and night) is proof of that. To put it another way, life with Robin is always an adventure, including sexual adventuring.

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