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Text:Tom Hathaway - Memoirs of Forbidden Love/Camping Out by Wolverine

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I missed mom a lot while I was away my first year at college. Missing your motherʼs not hip, so I didnʼt want to admit it, even to myself, but it was true. For as long as I could remember it had been just the two of us. I wasnʼt used to being on my own so far away. She was in California and I was in Michigan. I came home over Christmas, but by June I hadnʼt seen her for six months. Sheʼd missed me too, I could tell.

Momʼs a high school teacher, so she had time off too. Weʼre both outdoor types and like hiking and camping, so we went to the Anza Borrego desert, a wild, beautiful area inland over the mountains from San Diego.

For camping it was pretty tenderfoot stuff, a drive‐in site complete with showers, but mom likes to be comfortable. In the summer there arenʼt many people out there, so we had the place pretty much to ourselves. It was late by the time we arrived, so we cooked dinner over an open fire (you have to bring your own wood), then set up our tent, blew up our air mattresses, and turned in for the night. I didnʼt sleep too well because of the heat. We had lightweight sleeping bags, but they were still too warm.

I woke up early while mom was still sleeping on the other side of the tent. My mind was tangled up in a weird dream Iʼd been having: Mom and I were rowing a shell together (Iʼm on junior varsity crew), both of us nude. She was behind me, pressed up against me with her legs along my side. Each time we rowed I could feel her middle on my rear, warm and wet. I kept trying to turn around to face her, but I was strapped in and couldnʼt get the belt undone. It was very frustrating. I have lots of sexy dreams about her. I used to think that was sick, but I read in a psych book that itʼs normal.

Disappointed it was only a dream, not sure where I was, I looked around the dawn‐dim tent. Mom mustʼve been too warm too, because sheʼd taken off her nightie. Her breasts were bare — I stared enthralled. Iʼm far sighted and couldnʼt see too clearly. Since I wasnʼt sure where my glasses were, I had to squint. I could see moisture glistening on her tits, and a drop hung from one nipple. For a stunned moment I thought it was milk, then realized it was sweat from the heat. I needed to get closer to see better. Still half in my dream, I crept over to her side and gazed at momʼs beautiful boobs — smooth, round, full, large, the most wonderful things Iʼd ever seen.

She opened her eyes, then gasped and startled back to see someone so near her. “Itʼs just me,” I said.

“What are you doing?” she asked, confused.

“I just had a dream.”

Her eyes dropped to what was straining red and insistent out the edge of my jockey shorts, and her mouth fell open. She covered her breasts and rolled away from me. “Put that away!”

Thinking I was in real trouble now, I crawled to the other side of the tent and pulled on my pants. “Iʼm sorry … I was asleep … sort of.”

“My son, the peeping tom! Why are you so curious? You mustʼve seen women before. You must have lots of girls at college.” She sounded a little piqued.

“I couldnʼt help it. You were too pretty not to look.”

At this she smiled, and I knew I was forgiven. “Well, enough of that,” mom said. “Get the fire started, and weʼll eat breakfast.”

The rest of the day there was a bit of tension between us, and mom was very in charge and teachery. We took a long hike, and she made sure we read all the nature signs. She nervously explained me things about the desert I already knew.

Momʼs a photographer — macro close‐ups of wildflowers are her specialty. Desert flowers tend to be small and shy, hidden away, and you have to search for them. We found some good specimens she didnʼt already have in her collection.

All I could think of was her beautiful tit and how much I wanted to see the rest of her. As it was, I got to see quite a bit. The day was a real broiler, and mom wore just shorts and a T‐shirt (unfortunately with a bra). Sweat made the cotton cling semi‐transparently to her, and I got wonderful views of her curves in motion. After my glimpse this morning I had an image of how they looked under the cloth. I knew they wanted to be out in the open, free in the breeze. I walked behind her so I could watch her legs striding and her ass swaying inside her shorts. So tantalizing! But just seeing wasnʼt enough — I craved to … and then to …. I was swollen all day long. In desperation I concocted a plan.

That night she was tired from the hike, so I volunteered to cook dinner as well as clean up. Picking plants here was strictly forbidden, but we had wanted to have a desert‐type meal, so weʼd brought along yucca root and prickly pear cactus that weʼd bought at a Latino grocery store. I fried these with bacon, onions, and a few wild sage leaves I plucked from a nearby bush (have to break the rules a little bit). Unknown to mom, Iʼd also brought along a chunk of Lebanese hashish, thinking I might go off by myself and smoke some. Instead I crumbled the whole thing into the pan while she wasnʼt looking. I also cooked Rice‐a-roni, and when it was done I mixed everything together — a hash hash. It didnʼt taste very good, but there were too many different flavors for her to suspect anything. For dessert we toasted marshmallows over the coals. They tasted fine.

After itʼs eaten hashish comes on slowly and gradually, so unless a person knows what to expect, they might not realize theyʼre high. Since mom wasnʼt into drugs (Iʼm not either really — just grass and hash), I was hoping sheʼd just get carried away and lose her inhibitions.

After dinner we took a walk. Although still hot, it was a beautiful night, air tangy with the fragrance of chaparral, moon close to full. As the hash started to take effect, everything became strange and enchanted, like walking through a movie.

The desert animals were more active at night. We heard the call of an owl, then saw it take wing from a tall saguaro cactus and glide above the ground scanning for the leap of a kangaroo rat. A tufted roadrunner trotted by, tail up; a jackrabbit nibbled a bush, ears alert for danger; a kit fox slinked away with a horned toad in its mouth; the sand was alive with creepie‐crawlies. Everything shone silver in moonlight.

“I feel weird,” mom said. “Maybe itʼs the full moon … or maybe everything is … just weird.” She giggled, then shivered. “Itʼs kind of spooky though … out here.”

I slipped one arm around her waist and took her hand so we were walking hip to hip. Mom seemed to like it. I didnʼt know what to do next, though — kiss her, start feeling her up? The hash messed with my mind, so I thought she could read my thoughts and was just waiting for me to make a move and then sheʼd freak out. Bummed tripped, I got embarrassed and afraid to say anything.

“Letʼs go back,” she said. “Itʼs too strange.”

“OK.” I kept my arm around her, though, and she squeezed my hand. The sky was strewn with stars.

“I bet that fox has to spit out that horned toad,” she said. “Toads have a bad taste they squirt, so no one wants to eat them.”

“Thatʼs a good trick.”

She changed into her nightie in the rest room, and I skinnied down to my skivvies in the tent and got into my sleeping bag. When she came back she mustʼve remembered this morning because she drew a line down the middle of the tent. “Thatʼs your side … now stay on it!” she said, but with a funny, flirty smile.

Mom switched off the flashlight; suddenly it was very dark. “I feel so weird. Do you feel weird?” she asked.

“Yeah … youʼre right, it must be the moon. And maybe we had too much sun today.”

“The sun and the moon … just keep going around each other … funny … all the way up there. Weʼre going around too, all of us, everything … in a big circle. Or no, what do they call it … eclipse. No, ellipse.” She started to laugh. “I canʼt say it without lisping.”

“I canʼt listen without whispering.”

“I canʼt hear you, youʼre whispering,” she said.

I repeated louder, “I canʼt listen without whispering.”

“I heard you. That was supposed to be a joke.”

“Oh … so was mine.”

A cry — thin, brief, wavery — came from outside, then silence again. Iʼd never heard a sound like it.

“Oh, no … I know what just happened,” mom said in a sorrow‐stricken voice. “That mean fox caught that rabbit now. No! Thatʼs too mean … a little bunny! Thatʼs the only sound a rabbit ever makes … when some … some predator grabs it in its teeth … the first, last, only sound. Too sad.” She began to cry, really sobbing. “Cruel!”

I heard her arm thunk out onto the ground, then dimly saw her hand extended across our line, wanting comfort. I held it and said, “Iʼm sorry … thatʼs too bad. Poor little bunny.”

“Life is so sad!” She began to cry louder, and I scooted closer and put my arm on her shoulder.

“It is sad … eat or be eaten … why should it be that way?” I hugged her.

“Nobody will come in here, will they? Iʼm afraid,” mom said.

“Nobody will come in here,” I reassured her and snuggled up to her. Her sleeping bag wasnʼt zipped, and I got right next to her and kissed her in the hollow where her shoulder joined her neck.

She put her arms around me and squeezed me for comfort while she talked in a soft, rambling way. “Life is weird … so many strange things … happen … do … out there. The mind is a strange thing … all the different thoughts. Donʼt you think?”

“Yeah … it is.” Knowing I had to get her out of her mind and into her body, I kissed her on the lips so she couldnʼt talk. This was taking a huge chance — she could pull away, even slap me, but instead she kissed me back. Keeping our lips joined, I began rubbing her back, trying to make her feel safe. Gradually I worked her nightie up, slipped my hands under it, and caressed her lovely smooth bare skin. She murmured a protest through our fused lips, but I ignored it and she didnʼt move away. I kept waiting for mom to stop me, but she didnʼt. The hash was working! She breathed through her nostrils in slow, deep pants, and I could sense tense excitement building in her body.

Feeling terrified but magnificent, I explored her with eager hands. I wanted to conquer her and surrender to her at the same time.

I needed to kiss momʼs breasts, but that meant leaving her lips, which might break the spell. After rubbing their soft roundness and peaked firmness for a long time, I decided to risk it. I raised her nightie and plunged into them, sucking the tits I saw this morning, the tits I last sucked nineteen years ago, sucked them now like coming home after a long exile. Mom sighed and rubbed my head, too stoned to resist.

I moved my fingers lower and reverently explored the wet portal of my entrance into this world. She groaned and twisted, clutched my rear and sucked my ear. By now I was swelling almost to bursting and needed to be in her. I freed myself from the jockey shorts.

When mom saw that pointing at her, though, she turned on her side away from me, closed her eyes, and shook her head. “No … no … we canʼt … wrong.”

I turned momʼs head towards me and kissed her to keep her from talking, kissed her until her tongue slid over mine, kissed her while my one hand stroked her breast and the other her clit. When mom was moving and moaning under my touches, I rolled her onto her back. She turned her face away and bit her lip but opened her legs and let me take her.

With slow delicious penetration that made us both gasp with joy I re‐entered her; we were reunited at last. I moved within her in a swarm of love, pulling out, thrusting in, pulling out, thrusting in. We gazed into each otherʼs identical eyes and knew weʼd always wanted to be joined like this. With rolling momentum we moved faster, caught in an avalanche of desire. With a wild cry mom started to orgasm, and I followed her in spouting, screaming ecstasy. Suddenly I was a little kid again crying, “I love you, mommy, love you!”

As our tumult slowed, then quieted, we clung together, shuddering in amazement at what weʼd done. It was so great it was hard to believe we wouldnʼt be punished by something terrible. We had crossed into an unknown realm and werenʼt sure what monster might attack us now. But instead of being eaten alive by a savage beast, we fell asleep entangled in each other.

I woke up at dawn still high from the hash and our forbidden frolic. Mom was snoozing, lying on her back with tits proudly on display, a beautiful reminder. I started to worry what was going to happen when she woke up and remembered it. Would she get uptight … flip out?

I decided to make her mine again before the hash wore off, while she was still under its spell. I took the nearest nipple in my mouth and sucked gently. Soothing bliss flowed into me. Mom began murmuring as if in a dream. Moving slowly, she cupped her hand on my head and held me closer to her. She began twisting her body, and the murmurs grew louder, mixed with deep breaths through her open mouth. Then she woke up with a start. Her hands fluttered over me, and she gave a little cry of alarm.

“Itʼs OK, itʼs just me,” I told her.

“Oh … ah … what is it … what was it?” she asked in confusion.

I answered by putting my hand between her legs and rubbing her curly moist midpoint while I sucked her breast. “Oh … no … donʼt do that … what are you doing?” She was too sleepy and excited and stoned to push me away. I kissed her on the lips, pushed my leg between hers, and rubbed her pussy from the backside. Groaning, she squeezed my leg with hers. She didnʼt talk anymore, just surrendered, spread herself out, and let me take her again, eyes closed tight as if pretending it wasnʼt really happening. When she climaxed with a roar of passion, though, her eyes were wide open, gazing joyfully up at me as I gazed lovingly down at her, pumping my sperm into her womb, both of us coming together.

Afterwards we held each close, but she wept, “Whatʼve we done? This is … Oh, no …”

“Oh, yes!” I said, embracing her.

In a daze we cleaned up and made breakfast. Mom seemed stunned and in shock, but after a raisin muffin and a second cup of coffee, she began to talk hesitantly, trying to make sense out of confusion. “I donʼt believe it … but I guess I have to believe it. What got into us? How could we have …? Full moon in the desert … who wouldʼve ever thought …. Too weird!” Her expression turned worried. “No one can know about this. We canʼt tell anyone.”

I smeared honey on my muffin. “I donʼt want to tell anyone. Itʼs nobodyʼs business but ours.”

“The only thing I can think of … is that we mustʼve had lots of unresolved feelings between us … things we didnʼt want to admit … but that came out … when our guard was down … out here. Well … we certainly did express them. I hope we resolved them … in a positive direction … rather than some awful negative thing … that might happen to us.”

I was glad she could explain it this way. That meant she was on the road to accepting it. “Iʼm sure itʼs a positive thing.”

“But … how do you know?” she asked in a feminine tone that wanted reassurance.

Sheʼd never acted like that with me before. It made me feel mature and manly, knowing I had the power to comfort her. “Love is positive. It was an expression of love, what we did.”

“Well … I hope so,” she stammered, still half stoned. “I hope thatʼs true … otherwise ….”

“It is. Itʼs a good thing to do. It feels right. To hell with the rules.”

We went exploring again, hiking up an arroyo, a dry stream bed cut into the desert floor, secluded and shady. Mom was walking ahead in her sexy shorts, and I couldnʼt resist. I came up behind her, pressed against her rear and reached around in front to hold her tits. “Let me have you again … now.”

She could feel me hard against her and wiggled her butt into it. “What if thereʼs a flash flood … and we get washed away?” she said in a throaty whisper with a trace of a smile.

“Weʼll die happy.”

We did it right there in the sand with a lizard watching us.

When we got back to San Diego, I moved into her bed and have been there ever since. Actually we had to get a bigger bed. We went mattress shopping, tried them out for bounceability, and ordered a king sized.

It took us awhile to adjust to our new relationship. We had had to struggle through periods of guilt and fear — what if the world finds out and crushes us? We were so full of energy and sparkle together, but that made us worry people could tell what we were doing just by looking at us. In spite of the problems, we ended up having a loving sexy summer. One of our favorite things was to go down to the La Jolla coves late at night, swim nude, then fuck on the beach.

One of the reasons mom could handle this OK was that sheʼs a radical and has always rebelled against the conventional way of things. Since I grew up that way too, weʼre pretty compatible.

As fall approached, neither of us wanted to part. The very idea was traumatic, so we decide not to. I thought about transferring to the University of California at San Diego, but Iʼm studying poly sci and international relations, and UCSDʼs department has become pretty conventional now that Herbert Marcuse and Chalmers Johnson are no longer there. Michiganʼs program is more oppositional and militant, which is why I went there in the first place.

Mom decided to move back there with me. She called up the local school system and found they needed substitutes. They hired her, and sheʼs got a good chance of a full‐time position next year.

We rented an apartment with lots of privacy. Until the moving van arrived we were camping out, sleeping on air mattresses and sleeping bags like in the desert, but cooler.

We set up a mock bedroom for me that I use as a study.

Mom says sheʼs just as glad to have left San Diego. Because sheʼs so radical, she was always in trouble with the school board, which, like most things in this country, is controlled by conservative businessmen. She teaches history and civics and almost got fired for using Howard Zinnʼs A Peopleʼs History of the United States in her class. She fits much better into the progressive Ann Arbor scene.

We see our new arrangement as part of the liberation struggle, to free humanity from patriarchal control. In addition to being joyful, our lovemaking alters the existing order and opens up new possibilities. Weʼre sexual subversives, trying to render the dominant personality type obsolete and replace it with a more loving one. Itʼs a tough job, but someoneʼs got to do it!


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