My Immoral Mom Immortalized

Ryan surprised himself with his move to enter his mom so early in the session. But the repeated tilting and lifting of her pelvis as it sought his mouth, signaling her impending cum as he was munching her muff, touched a spring loaded button in his libido. He had to feel himself buried in her. He concentrated on not shooting his jism, even as he tried to burn the sensation of being inside his mother for the first time into his memory. He was going to cum even so, if he didn't do something quick to change up the situation. He pulled out and the cool air was quite a contrast on his damp dick. He got upright on his knees and motioned with his hands that Fran should roll over.

Fran could tell, how excited her son was from having been fucking her missionary style, since he was breathless and had to use hand signals to indicate the next position. She got the idea easily enough and turned on her stomach, while Ryan had to maneuverer so that their legs didn't get entangled, but at last he and she managed the switch. He pulled her hips high as his waist and aimed for her red gash that marked the center of her split, and the slick slit that was waiting to be violated by her son's penis again. She let out a tremulous wail of joy as that manhood plowed into her pleasure place. He began to saw back and forth in firm and definite strokes of an even pace. Each time he paused just a little as he bumped the nubs deep in her cavity.

This time he was more in control, even though the tightness was tenser and he went deeper and was touching the womb he was conceived in. He was able to make this position last for better than five minutes. Even though the computer only required ten strokes to make a decent loop and certainly they had gotten more that what was needed with him on top. Now this was for the sheer craven urges he had had for all the years he had desired his mom. To let the melding of their bodies and hearts be interlaced, by the physical abandonment to the intense lust to merge in this most intimate and special way. It was suddenly too much he couldn't help himself, he plugged in hard and locked in with overwhelming fuck lust.

Fran knew what was happening, and her heart leap with joy at the coming cum of her boy in her body. She shoved back at the banging prick as it slammed into her pussy and held for his orgasm in a reaching stretch that seemed like even his scrotum was being shoved in. Then the blast. With his first throb she let her own paroxysm, which was perilously perched on the point of her peak, topple over and ripple through her whole being as the electrical-like shock wave jolted her insides and went straight to her brain. She felt the flood of his sperm spill in her, a hot liquid within the steamy cauldron of her genitalia. They cried out in calls and howls and yelps like the primitive simians, but their spirits were flowing together in the highest state. Thus the simultaneous climax was captured on video and the computer would translate the action to an animation that depicted the squirt of son in mother, as she also was gripped by her own spasms.

"Shit, I came too soon!" bitched the artist; whose lust had been more than he could contain. Fran understood his frustration, as she always had understood her son's needs, wants and hopes. But as she was always willing to help and be supportive, so now was no different. She too had an art she was superb at: she pulled her boy onto his back beside her and took the spent spoke into her mouth. With a small bit of suction and slow nodding she coaxed tumescence back into the limp lump until once more it was the proud poker his peter was meant to be for the third round. This time she sat on the pike as it pointed to the ceiling and rode the rod like she was in the rodeo.

Ryan's hands reached up to cup her titties, as his finger tweaked the ruddy nipples in the slightly oval aureoles. Fran arched her back supporting herself by reaching back and leaning her hands on his thighs. Ryan placed one of his hands so that the thumb was rubbing on her clit and it popped out of the surrounding tissues as the red bulb was treated to his gentle administrations. His mom was rocking, the friction was incredible on his prick, both dorsal and ventral sides. She didn't ever let the head completely out of her vagina - a real trick when rising and lowering at that angle. But then she swayed forward and lay down on him, so that they could kiss and her soft cushions flattened against his chest in a most delicious way. Her hips made even smaller motions, but it was sliding the tip in and out, teasing the purple cap with the torment of her opening engulfing it. A little, then dipping deeper, deeper still, then almost to the root, all the way - full in. Then repeating the routine until Ryan was made mad with the movements.

That was the last straw after only a few minutes of this crazy vixen's vexing humping he heaved his hips high and grabbed her waist. Then he proceeded to pound into his mom's orifice with every ounce of strength he had left to fuck his partner to beat the band! Bang! Bang! Bang! Their groins ground together and slapped and Fran's tits flipped as she flopped upon her son's torso the bucking was so violent. But it didn't take much at that point to punch her ticket and she joined the mayhem with a hobby-horse ride of royal quality. Suddenly first Fran, almost immediately followed by Ryan, their bodies stiffened, froze with the great paralyzing of a tremendous cum, they were just like stone statues in the museums. Then, as if they were both puppets whose strings had been cut, they collapsed. The only sound was their ragged breathing.

RYAN PHONED HIS mom after the interview and told her that this broadcast would surely be replayed and seen for a long time to come. Their reputation was ruined, or it reigned supreme in the annals of art scandals. Either way, the future of his work was bound to be raised in price. They were surely beyond infamy, now raised to cultural icons - of what - the future would be the judge.

But certainly their immorality had been immortalized, and that would be seen as less sinful in future generations. For instance Kathryn Harrison had written about her affair with her father, and though it stirred a great out cry at the time is all but forgotten nearly twenty years later. The fact that both Monet and Manet married their mistresses is viewed in a more moderate perspective in our modern era, though at the time it was considered disgraceful.

Meanwhile, perhaps they might like to revisit the moments that had been so special? They could watch their cube. The private one he had kept of their most personal art and most intimate acts. One of the entire session. They could even fiddle with the elements on the holographic quadra-erotic display. Or better yet, with each other!