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Staying over with a cousin has a very interesting effect.

It was not one of my Parisian girl friends, but mother.

The sight of her hand on the breast, its fullness and the light brown nipple, the rapid sliding of the dildo in and out of her tunnel, had in the instant of seeing burned itself into my brain. It now remained there, branded into my sensual memory. I wanted it to be my hand fondling her breast, my lips on hers, my tongue in her vagina, my penis penetrating her, my sperm fertilising her. I wanted to breath in her sweet female fragrance, to feel her body pressed to mine, to speak and hear the words of love and passion lovers communicate in the act of sex.

The suddenness of the transformation in my perception of mother was breathtaking. In a matter of minutes, she had become the object of my sexual desire, where previously I had never consciously had such a thought.

I was trying to mentally process this change. Why now? Was it simply the fact that I had seen her naked and performing a sexual act? Looked at objectively, mother was and is a very attractive woman. At forty four, and even given the hard time she had been having in recent years, she still retained charm, and what I can only describe as allure. I am tempted to use the word "seductiveness," but that was present for me only after my sight of her in the bedroom.

In the midst of all this reflection, I had hoped that my sexual agitation might cool down, but it didn't, it got worse. My penis was hard and dripping pre-cum. I had to slip off to my bedroom and relieve myself by hand.

The temporary relaxation the ejaculation gave me brought more sobering thoughts to mind. I was contemplating incest. The dark tide of the ancient taboo swept over me. Mother is the forbidden woman. And however much I might desire her; it did not follow that mother would allow me to have her. There had never been any indication from her that suggested a sexual attachment to me.

Even if she had not been my mother - had she been simply a woman I desired - the age difference might make the whole thing ridiculous. Twenty years is a wide gap, even if the older person has retained their looks and the younger is very mature.

Even with these sombre thoughts, within half an hour I had another mother inspired erection. I retired once more the relieve myself, knowing that these new feelings were going to be a problem with their desired object being so close.

A further change in the direction of things took place when my mother came bursting into the office a few days later saying, "Your father, he's vomiting blood."

We called in the Flying Doctor Service, and father was flown to hospital at The Hill, accompanied by mother. From there, he was taken by helicopter to the Royal Hospital in the capital. Mother returned to the station, and our finances were such that she had to borrow money from friends in The Hill to get a flight home.

On arrival, she was exhausted. She had wanted to go on with father to the city hospital, but given the crisis at home she thought it better to return here until we had found out how we stood after the sale.

"I must get back to him as soon as we know what going to happen she said." Despite everything, it seemed that something of the old love for him still remained, or was it just her honouring the vows she had taken, "in sickness and in health"? I have never asked her about this, but felt a twinge of envy that my father could still retain at least her care.

In fact, she never did see my father again. As the doctor had predicted, his next visit to the hospital would be his last. He died the day after we had the cattle sale. Our only remaining act for him was to attend his funeral.

In the meantime, Amos was as good as his word. He brought a mob in by the end of a fortnight. I had done what I could to repair the stockyards, and the buyers arrived two days later.

Amos was full of optimism.

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