My Immoral Mom Immortalized

Besides which, to get his creative juices running for this next set of holographic humping, he was horny as hell having abstained from sex for weeks in preparation. What to do? Who to do? "Why the big to do, dear?" asked Fran of her frantic son. He turned to look at his mom in the California sun, in her two piece sun-suit. She entered the studio carrying a carafe of white wine and some glasses for the guests that never arrived. In that one EUREKA! moment, he knew how to solve all their problems, fulfill all their desires, meet all their needs, realize all their hopes, and satisfy his horniness. "Mom?" sinful Seqz'tus said, "How would you like to be immortalized?"

[Taping resumes after restroom break]

JR: All right, since you bring her up again and have pointedly not dodge the subject of the accusations of incest, but rather taunted and even teased by touching on the issue, what of the series called "In the Belly of the Beauty". Is that indeed your mother and yourself making love in the depictions?

SE: Can you think of a more scandalous and inflammatory publicity stunt?

JR: Is that what it was?

SE: No, it was, mmm, well it was us. The legal fall-out was resolved long ago, so that doesn't come into play in explaining it. Because you see, most folks say it's a sin or sacrilege or some sort of horrendous crime and want me burned at the stake, or punished in a very torturous way, the more painful the better, that my works would be destroyed - all of them, and so on. Funny thing, while those particular three won't ever be exhibited in public, they were the ones that fetched the highest price at first offering to private collectors. They were sold in less than 24 hours to three different buyers. Each patron wanted the series, but I felt that the set would be safer in three separate custodies.

SE: (continues) It just sort of happened that there was this opening on that day, for a couple and we were the only people that . . fit the bill. I was paying the bill and needed to have models immediately. They weren't even as refined as my work of a year later, and I shorted the editing to get them out, as I need the cash flow. It wasn't planned, and we only did the posing once, one time for all three works. Nor have we had sex since. It was nice though, mom's a great lover, I think I . . um . . acquitted myself all right. But remember, it's not unlike when movie stars are acting a love scene on the set, there are a lot of other things going on that can be very distracting.

JR: So you did have sex then and recorded it and sold those pieces to three buyers?

SE: Jack why is that posed as a question. The legal transcripts are public. I just confirmed out loud, on camera, what was common knowledge; and the copies of the work in books of reprints are authenticated by my mom as being so. So that should be posed as a statement to set up your next question.

JR: You know what my next question is going to be, don't you?

SE: The answer is - sure I did! If you're going to screw your own mom, you wouldn't want to miss out cumming in her would you? Ironically, that was the only time I was able to capture the exact moment of ejaculation in one of my works. It turns out too, that mom climaxed at the same time, though we did get that phenomena on film in several other instances with other women. That's why the works are so valuable. It's not just an artist's self-portrait, and his mother included, it is the only simultaneous orgasm to be seen from the inside as it happens and preserved both for scientific and artistic study. A thing of beauty, that cums around and around, again and again. My immoral mom immortalized. Because as the say goes, "Life is short, but art - long."

IN SEQZ'TUS STUDIO his mother looked at him and laughed. "What? The gal didn't show? You need a fill in? Where's the guy? Undressing? Sure I'll be in one of your Quadtra-whatchamacallitz. I could do with a good lay. I hope he can last. Didn't you have a fella that went limp early, had to feed him a pill? I always wanted to be famous, but I doubt that you want to let people know that it's your mother who is getting boinked." Fran was never the one to be delicate about the topic of sex, especially since Ryan had got to be old enough to understand about adult matters. Double especially considering the sort of thing he was doing now, with what she thought was an interesting if a bit cockamamie career, cock being the masculine half of the formula that made him famous and fabulously wealthy.

Well she had supported him by working her fanny off, and then supported him when he got the grant, and encouraged him to pursue his vision of combining scans to image in creative and useful and profitable ways for those who allowed him to do it with the machines he couldn't afford otherwise to use. She had told him to go for his golden goal when he had explained his BIG concept for outrageous art. So she could support him with this fill-in gig now. He had her undress in a tiny dressing room and put on a light cotton robe. At least it wasn't the damn hospital type of gowns that left your ass bare. Though she would be nude enough when the modeling was performed.

Speaking of models, where was the male model? She hoped his equipment was nice size, wouldn't want to have to squint to see the man's ding-dong. Better a long dong, than a dainty dingy. But her son always had very handsome specimens and beautiful gals for the shoots, so she wasn't too concerned. She decided that there was no reason to feel embarrassed naked in front of her son. It was like the doctor examining you, it was all professional and a bit impersonal, no matter how intimate the anatomy was being viewed and prodded. After all, there had been plenty of prodding for the sort of art her kid created, very intimate poking indeed!

"Your partner's here in the studio already, mom. Don't worry about that now. I need to get some preliminary shots for computer coordinates. Come over to this part of the building, to the lab section." He led her into a small booth where she stood as he took what she recognized as X-rays of her torso. "These are low dosage, as I don't need the detail that medical negatives do. There are also broad shots from thighs to just above the belly button." Her son explained, as the machinery whirled and clicked and hummed. Then there were a few of her seated. Next he explained that he was doing some ultrasound, as he had her open the robe she had on, so he could squirt the jell over her abdomen. He had the forethought to have warmed the goo up beforehand.

Once he had all those completed, she was led into a room with green paneling. There were camera holes in the walls from several angles, for videotaping Ryan explained. There was a large round Lucite table with a clear pad on top of it, situated in the center of the square area. This she knew from an earlier tour of the studio was the 'work platform' where the sex that was filmed was performed. It served as both bed and sometimes like a chair, for sitting positions, a comfortable back could be fitted upright for that purpose. It had been specially designed with exacting measurements and to hold the weight of two people. The six legs were stable enough for the most rigorous of rocking when the raunchy rutting frolic got frantic during climaxing.

"Wait here, mom, I won't be long." Ryan told Fran. She wondered if he meant that it wouldn't be long before her partner came in, or if it wouldn't be long before she and her partner would be engaged in fucking, or if that Ryan would return himself, for some reason. It was all three, as it turned out.

[Taping resumes after lunch break]

JR: You earlier referred to your legal troubles. Aside from the censorship issues, the difficulties of public showings in galleries and museums; initially as your work became better known and your notoriety built, there were serious attempts to jail you for incest.

SE: Well, of course, there is no such thing as bad publicity. The worse the critics ragged on my boxes the more value they had for collectors who know that today's condemnation becomes tomorrow's praise, yesterday's controversy fades with the future's adjustment of the public's perspective. It was that way with the Impressionists, the Cubists, Jackson Pollack, Robert Mapplethorpe's homoerotic photographs . . . The list is endless.

JR: But you admitted that those works were of incest. How did you defend against the legal battle?

SE: There was none. No defense, and no legal litigation. First I was the one saying publicly that the series, only three specific works mind you, were of myself and my mother. But I never would swear to it in a court of law. I might be foolish, but my attorneys are brilliant. They pointed out to the DA, who was running for re-election by the way, that there was no proof otherwise. The works were in private hands and out of the country.

SE: (continuing) There was no way to identify the people in the holographs as me and mom, unless you had all the equipment I had used to create the work in the first place, to examine the two of us. The DA's office didn't have that kind of budget. Nor would we voluntarily submit to such and since there was no formal complaint made by anyone . . well, I could say mom and I screwed on the Brooklyn Bridge, but if we were the only ones who were up there at the time, how do you prove it's not just an idle boast?

JR: So how do YOU prove it? That the art work is genuinely you and your mother?

SE: I don't need to, because art is also a matter of faith.

JR: Faith?

SE: Faith that a Pollack is worth 140 million dollars, but that one by Van Gogh fetches only eighty-three mil. Faith that this is an original Caravaggio, rather than one of his best student's works. Faith that the new artist will someday be the new Picasso. Faith that the multiple block print of Campbell soup cans is art, rather than a crassly manufactured product of a commercially-orientated megalomaniac. It's all taken on faith. If there was not faith in the artist, then his work is worth nothing. The critics have less to do with that than the collectors. It is the collectors who buy, and set the prices, the value. The incest works were bought in 24 hours, the price per piece was indeed high, but the publicity value was incalculable.

IN THE GREEN-SCREEN room, where Fran waited the temperature was slightly cool, but not uncomfortable. She knew the humidity and climate controls were set to keep the participants happy, as their exertions would be heating things up in more ways than one. Ryan reappeared, dressed in just a robe himself. If Fran didn't know better, she think that he himself was her partner. Certainly he might have entertained having her sexually over the years, but he wouldn't use that expensive equipment just as a ruse to ravish his mom, would he? He had taken those preliminary shots with X-rays and ultrasound. A question popped up in her head.

"Ryan, I have seen moving ultrasound pictures, but the other things, like MRIs, aren't you supposed to hold still? How can you take motion pictures with that kind of equipment then?"

"I don't. Mom, much art is not what the public imagines the process to be, but what they perceive it to be. In some medieval paintings the symbolism is more important than the subjects, such as the "The Arnofini Wedding" by Jan van Eyck. Vermeer, the Dutch master skewed the view in a mirror above a virginal, which was an early type of piano, to show what he wanted to be reflected. Picasso with a few lines suggests a female form, but there are only three lines in the whole drawing! I don't need all that imaging to produce my holographs."

"The computer can make accurate depictions of us, our actions and our organs and our orgasms, from the video, then blend in the images I already took. It's all done from a matrix and then the image is projected from the computations. Remember I originally was a programmer; the algorithms have been refined, but I am adding in new interactive elements and giving the viewer the opportunity to make the piece personal in a way that puts them into the mix. They become part artist in what the work is depicting: participants in the creative process, of what we are doing while we are screwing!"

Fran had caught something implied, in the lecture on art history and her son's process and plans. "What do you mean, 'while we are screwing'?" Are you my partner for these cubes? Is that why you are wearing the robe?"

"Uh . . . Yeah. See neither model showed up. They were a couple and they supposedly ought to have arrived together. I don't know what held them up, or if they got cold feet or cold something else, but I can't afford to let this time go to waste with the expensive rental on the machines. And this will make you famous, I promise mom."

"Okay, so you need to make the best of the no-show situation. But if you tell folks that it is yourself and your mother, I won't be famous: I'll be infamous for my immorality for having fucked my son. This will ruin your career as well, won't it? They will want to ban your work, even destroy it, and calling you a motherfucker will be the least of your problems. There will be legal hassles and nobody will want to buy any of your work anymore. They will probably want refunds on what has already been bought! Have you thought of that, besides just the chance to get to make love to me, as you wanted to all these years?"

"Does that mean you won't do it?"

"Jeez, I guess I'd be happy to grant my boy's wish after all this time, if that is what you really want to do. But if you make it public it will ruin you!"

"Let me worry about that. Just give me your robe and relax. We are going to have a great time, and if anything sells, I'll split the commissions with you fifty-fifty! Hand me your robe and I'll throw both of our gowns out the door to clear the room of any clutter."

Fran gave in and gave up and gave herself to pleasure with her son. She somehow understood, that this was inevitable. She hoped that it had a positive outcome as well as a good cum in her too. She allowed her only child, a man now, to help her on to the platform which was surprisingly comfortable. She could use a nice roll in the hay, it had been a while. "The cameras are already rolling mom," said Ryan. Well, she thought, the 'rolling' part has already started; so then, they ought to have some of that physical closeness her boy like so much, she hugged him to her and kissed him. His erection was already turgid against her belly.

[taping resumes after switching to a fresh digital memory cassette]

JR: So you had sex with your mother for the publicity?

SE: You don't seem to listen very well, for a professional interviewer. I made love to my mother as a necessity, an expediency of the moment. But yes I did take advantage of the fact that it was my mom and the scandal made headlines when the fact was revealed. But I did not take advantage of my mother, she was a willing participant. She knew I was going to let the world in on our assignation for art's sake. In fact, the factor of public outrage was mentioned by her before we engaged in copulation. I said yes, but look at Mae West, Anais Nin, Sally Rand, George Sand, Berthe Morisot, and half a dozen other women who were considered outrageous; until they were eventually considered artists in their field and came to be respected later.

JR: But your mother was not the artist.

SE: Then my mom, shouldn't be condemned for her son's art, right? So the scandal is all mine for doing it to mom, doing her and putting her in the cubes. But those were all sold privately, sort of a different family portrait, to be sure, but it's not like I had sex with my ten-year-old daughter and sold the pictures on the Internet. True, the resultant notoriety didn't hurt the sale of my work. But neither is this topic hurting your ratings. Call a spade a spade, or in this case a heart a heart; because my mother and I love one another, and that is what is in those three cubes, the art of love. 'Nuf said - interview over.

[Seqz'tus Empriapal walks out of the room and does not return. Note: Technical specifications of how Quadra-Erotic cubes were design to have six-sided views are unavailable due to patents on the power and projection equipment. It is believed to have been miniaturized and concealed in the frames themselves.]

FRAN MALLORY LOOKED at the stiff muscle of her son's penis and her insides gave a tingle to her genitals. He did have some rather well developed equipment, a work of art if it was a sculpture, but this was rigid and upright on his torso, not like the soft way the Greek and Roman marble statues portrayed male members. And not a fig leaf in sight! Neither did she have anything to be modest with. She decided that if her son felt her body good enough to put in his erotic art, then who was she to be shy? She reached down and grasped the object of her admiration.

Ryan reach similarly for his mother's sweet spot at her loins and moved a finger into the slot that was already getting slippery with her love dew. He slid a digit up her hot hole and felt for her G-spot. Manipulating inside her vagina he stimulated her on one side while his thumb worked at her clitoris. To do this, though his hands were large, he had to do a sort of rocking motion, making the C of his grasp toggle back and forth. She obviously was getting a great deal of pleasure from the movement.

Fran stroked her boy's boner, like she was milking a cow in reverse, down then up, and she didn't want this cream to stream yet, that she was saving for having inside her. She gave a little twist to the light touch as she grasped the stalk. Her mouth sought his to French him - she wondered if oral sex was allowed - as part of the preliminaries. She had never seen a taping or one of the videos, only the completed cubes. As if in answer to her unspoken question, her son shifted and began to work his mouth down her neck then to her breasts, but kept getting lower and lower. She spread her thighs and gave a happy sigh.

Ryan was not worried about what sort of activity they did while the video was recording, as long as he saved his orgasm for the climax in her. They would have three distinct positions for penetration, at least missionary, certainly doggie or some sort of seated configuration and the third was to be what ever happened as things went along, it was not planned. But he did not want to cum until their third coupling. Or then perhaps, if things got too intense, they would have to have a second session, if he blew his wad early. But he was unsure that he could get his mom back into the chamber for more sex, if there needed to be further filming. Of course, he wouldn't mind, but he needed to make this time count, just in case she chickened out of another liaison.

Fran was glad that she had agreed to have sex with her son. He was doing a wonderful job of cunnilingus, and oh how she did love to be eaten! She ran her fingers through his full head of hair and guided him to be firmer or softer as he pressed his tongue against her clit and lapped at her labia. The raspy texture was making every tissue extra sensitive and she could feel the first climax building nicely. She had plenty saved up. She always had been multi-organismic and her sex-drive was as strong now as when she was in her twenties, even more so perhaps. She began to buck as the first waves of ecstasy washed over her. Ryan moved up to put his cock in her cunt and she wrapped her arms around him and her hands scrambled down his back to find and clutch the manly buttocks that were hunching to thrust his meat in her.