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THE REST IS FANTASY
A mom, her son and his dirty books
It is 1973. I am 19, my mom is 42. I was still a virgin. The rest is fantasy.
I’m now 66 and it is time to make my confession. It was a time when censorship was loosening its grip on erotic media. In New York City’s Times Square area dirty book stores are around every corner and porn movie theaters line the boulevards. Since I turned 18 I have been allowed to go to the city on my own. I see the porn, even live simulated sex. I peruse the many small dirty books stores searching for mother / son incest stories. Authors such as Grace Wilkerson and Peter Jensen provide the tales my brain devours and the words that make my cock cum in spurts so strong the jism almost flies to my chin sometimes.
I put my naughty novels in a shallow open box under my bed and my magazines of totally graphic photos of mature ladies under my mattress. Somehow I was too dumb to realize that my mother changed my sheets and would find the private stash of sex stuff. She must have done so from shortly after I brought home my NYC carnal carnival of cock creaming material.
My mother was a model who kept her figure with lots of tennis. She had been on the covers of many women’s fashion magazines; I wished she would get under my covers or at least model naked for porn, that I would be most eager to acquire! She also had an amazing mind. One of the things about her brilliant brain was an eidetic memory, commonly known as photographic. It was useful in many ways, but sometimes it caught me out and there was no arguing with her when she knew what the truth was.
One day, when dad was gone for a long trip, mom said to meet her in my bedroom after I finished watching my TV program. She said we needed to have a serious talk. I was unsure of what trouble I was in now but it bothered me so much I could hardly focus on my favorite show. Finally the episode ended. I walked up the stairs like ascending a scaffold for my execution. When I opened my door there was mom . . . she was dressed in a diaphanous nightie to my surprise. She seldom wore it outside of her own bedroom.
She was sitting on the twin bed that paralleled my own bunk. Mother spoke in a firm voice and said, “Strip down to your shorts and sit opposite me.” I was not about to disobey, condemned men do not do so. I threw my clothed on the chair as usual and sat on my bed facing her and my doom . . . or so I thought. I was even more convinced of my impending punishment when I noticed a short stack of my dirty books on my bed table that was between the beds; to make things even more intense one of my porn mags was open to the pic of a woman who was close to being a double of mother! It was obviously oft looked at by the fingerprints on the page.
My mother had a serious look in her face and she asked me, “Honey, do you have the hots for your mother?”
I felt my face go cherry red with embarrassment. My mouth gapped but nothing came forth.
“Stand up!” she commanded. I shot upright. Mom reached over and with one smooth motion pulled my jockey-shorts to the floor. She pushed me to sit again and dragged my jockeys off my feet and tossed them over her shoulder. “Sit and try to relax and I will explain what this is all about.” With that she opened her translucent negligee, shrugged it off and spread her legs somewhat. But there was no way could I relax and my head had exploded. I knew I had lost my mind because with all of the past minute my dick remained limp.
“Okay, here goes,” she began. “I became aware of your pornography collection soon after you began making trips to the City. But I felt that I didn’t want to invade your privacy so I just sort of worked around it when I did the sheets. But one day I saw that there was a book left out on your nightstand entitled “Mommy Lusts For Sonny”. Now I know I’m a beautiful woman and many guys have lusted after me. But I have been mostly faithful to your dad and happy in our marriage.
“Mostly?” I asked in surprise.
“Later Kiddo” she replied and continued. Well that book was an obvious sign of your interest in me and I could not help being intrigued, my curiosity being aroused. And when I say aroused I mean that there canlı bahis was an unexpected tickle in my tummy, a little oo-la-la in my loins. So I decided what the hell and pulled out all of it; the good, the bad, and the shockingly graphic. Maybe later I will give you a gander at some nude shots I did in college for an art class modeling class. Stay with me. I read the favorite parts of your books. I could tell by the Vaseline stains on the pages.
I got horny myself reading those passages. I masturbated to the same words you did. It was a fantasy that could never, should never be; yet I came quick thinking of you shooting into my vagina, orgasming to the thought your cumming cock creaming in my womb. What a rush!”
My boner twitched, okay, NOW I was getting hard! Mom pushed my ‘ever-on-the-night-table’ jar of Vaseline toward me. “Jack-off for mommy, baby; do it while I quote the juiciest parts of you favorite story. It’s your pick; I have them all in my head. Which shall it be?”
Eidetic, I am indebted.
It was a fantasy cum true. I asked for “More Than A Mother”. Start on page 155, in the middle. (Mother’s brain was that good!)
[Not the same narrative as my tale “More Than Just A Mother” under my ‘nom de naughty’ CoverofKnight. I also post as TrojanSnake too. 8==3~]
Mom began to quote the familiar passage. “Jillian and her son Tom found themselves in the secret chamber of Professor Photo as he called himself. They had first discovered the room in his strange mansion decorated with the dozens of pictures of themselves including a great many when they went to the local public pool. It was bizarre and chilling to have this oddball stalker focused (pun intended) on them, a lonely youthful widow and her athletic son. True they were a handsome pair; she had done modeling in her college days {“Like mommy”, mom momentarily interjected} while Thomas had been awarded a football scholarship at the university he was about to attend.”
My mom continued to spin out the narrative while I jacked my dick with the greasy lubricant. “‘I’ll protect you from that nut-case’ Tom reassured his parent. Jill found the light switch and flipped it on. They were confronted with large poster size paintings of themselves naked and coupling. There was a single swivel office chair in the middle of the room. The lair was decorated with six works of erotic art, two on each wall, none on the entrances side. It was obvious what the room was used for by the batty Prof. Photo. The floor was icky-sticky in a semi circle around the seat.”
“In uncanny realistic il-lust-rations the mother and son were posed in positions of fornication. They were both half mesmerized by the freakish spectacle, yet it was an erotic turn-on despite these were not being feelings either would have admitted to even though they had both previously several times masturbated to the fantasy of mother / son sex. The beauty of the feminine and masculine nude figures was objectively undeniable; subjectively it aroused both of them to uncomfortable physical stimulation.”
“They spoke not at all as they studied the three sets of sex pix. The air was becoming pleasantly pungent with an odor both musky and fragrant in pheromones. The paintings left nothing to the imagination. In each pose there were definite penetration, nipples erect and juices lubricating the copulation. After the time of wonder, as they were coming out of the shock and their lascivious leering at the action on the walls, more light flooded the chamber and the overhead and until then hidden bulbs began to flash in unison. Strobes! realized Tom.”
“Jill cried out in terror ‘what’s happening?’ Thomas pulled his mom to him and hugged her.”
But I, listening to my mother providing the author’s writing aloud, knew what was next – this was getting to the hottest point in the whole book. I waxed my wanton willy with slow strokes so as not to pop the cork too early. Mother was also jilling her clit and had her eyes fixed on my big boner like the pair in the story viewed their images in the art.
Mom recited without interruption, “Jillian returned her son’s hug and squeezed tight. The strobing became brighter and at a dizzying pace. A voice from unseen bahis siteleri speakers spoke, ‘Take off your clothes and you will not be harmed.’ Tom took Jill by her arm and went for the door, but it was locked. The voice repeated the absurd and fearful command, ‘TAKE OFF YOUR CLOTHES!’ It nearly shouted, then added in a more controlled tone, ‘Get naked and you won’t be hurt.’ It was a battle of the couple’s wills against their jailer’s.”
“But finally Tom said to his mom, ‘Why don’t we just do it? This madman likely just wants some live models for his perverse prurient canvasses. He will take some stills to utilize his crafting of more self-produced pornography, then let us go. Tom could see the panic deer-in-the-headlights look in his mom’s eyes. Then the Prof. played an earsplitting hum that made their already bewildering experience much more unbearable. ‘DO IT NOW!!’ boomed the voice of the cruel captor. And finally they shuck their garments and piled them on the chair to keep them from the putrid goo on the floor.”
“The voice echoed ‘There is a Morris bed next to the door. Open it up and sit down.’ Both mom and son sort of sensed where this chain of orders was headed. They were not shackled but they were yet manipulated by the insane mind of he whose house they dared explored. The whole set-up was designed to condition them to do his bidding. So Tom decided to let his mother and himself to rest their legs by sitting on the bunk. He searched and found the strap handle high up the blank part of the wall with the secured portal to their Twilight-Zone meets Hustler Magazine loony lockup. He eased downs the mattress on hinges until it stretched flat.”
My mom spoke and said, “How are you doing – don’t go premature on me!”
I asked, “When do you want me to go on you?”
“I’ll tell you when, now back to our drama of Tommy and his mommy. They sat on the surprisingly soft mattress. The lights slowed but were still flashed. The beams became an odd color and the sounding hum coordinated with their rhythm. The captives looked at each other wondering if the other had a clue to what was going on. Tom noticed first. ‘Mom, look at the paintings . . . the paintings are moving!’ Jillian looked from one dirty scene of her and Tom screwing to another and gasped. For the art work did appear to flicker in the weird pulsing glow.”
“The half dozen pairings of themselves were making subtle but distinct shifts so that cock stirred in cunt as the flux of light flitted and the buzzing hum enhanced the effect. A strange happening took place in their bodies. Professor Photo had not only experimented on people (volunteers or sometimes others not so willing) with strobe hypnosis; but also the little known infrasound, frequencies so low that you simply could not hear the vibrations. There were physiological responses to such oscillations and it could be used along with the strobing illuminations to make the subjects obey the suggestions of the manipulating puppet-master. Using fluorescent paint and alternating the lighting allowed him to create the special effect of moving. It was just a sophisticated way of what those grooved square plastic toys having double images do.”
The narrative was close to the moment of ultimate consummation, but I remembered mom’s caution.
My mom’s voice itself took on a hypnotic trance inducing tone. “Jillian felt her son Thomas laid her on the bed. She returned his ardent kisses, was cognizant of his considerable cock’s girth and length. Her pussy was soaked and eager for the mighty meat her boy Tom sported that was knocking at the hole that was her most vulnerable place. Her slick moisture making the entrance an easy passage.”
Mom interrupted and spoke to me, “stop masturbating for the moment.” I wanted to cum with the characters but perhaps mother had an even more licentious way of reaching my release, ‘go on her?’ Cream on her . . . tummy? Up and down her slit?
Mom spoke the last of the totally erotic read she had brought from under my bed. “Tom could tell he was at the gates of paradise, the heavenly hole of his beloved mother. As their mouths mingle tongues in French kisses sloppy and delicious, he whispered, ‘I can’t help it I have to, please bahis şirketleri forgive me, I just gotta do it OH MOMMY” he cried as his rod thrust and began ravishing her inner passage. She cried out, ‘It’s okay, baby, that’s so good for me too, I need it too, do me, take me, pound me hard, yes yes like that, don’t stop . . .’, Thomas moaned, ‘I’m there I’m cumming!! ‘Mommy I’m cumming in you!’ His flood of jizm spewed as her torso jerked in spasms uncontrolled. Jill felt his injection deep in her canal and it sent her sailing over the cliff to her own climax, as his thrust reached bottom and the sweet hot love offering exploded in her.”
I looked to my mom in desperation I was SO primed. Sitting on the other bed she spread extra wide her entire nether side on full view to me. “Come closer, I want you to spill you semen in my slit. Stroke now once again and shoot at my rosy ready target, don’t miss get as close as you can. Don’t go in but I want your seed to spurt into my opening, get it right there; you can touch the tip to my pussy. I did as she asked. My head was so ballooned with lust for her body I really didn’t know what I was doing.
I bent over her prone form from knees to top and placed my mouth to suckle on her nipples. This was suck-cessful but the trajectory made my member slip in a bit, the head of my dick ducking into her channel. Mom spoke waveringly, “you didn’t cum yet did you?”
I squealed, “Huh-uh!” My high pitched voice indicating that my self-control was about to vanish, my resolve to dissolve.
“Just the tip, honey. Just the tip.” Mom said soft in my ear. “Let mommy do the moving, mommy will get you home.” Her hips tilted, my plum-shaded bulb on the end of my meat-rod was an M-80 due to make a huge bang. Just when I was about to pull out and paint my mom’s abdomen with my milky spunk – she grabbed my hips and pulled me fully into her vagina. VIRGIN NO LONGER!!!
Oh my God! I didn’t expect the heat of her inside. Ninety-eight point six? – wow! I had felt the slickness of her entrance but the engulfing of my seven inches was like being dunked in a freezing lake only instead of awful and painful it was wonderful and more than just pleasant. It was heaven and my balls jumped for joy as the jism pour out in great gushes of release and spasms of biological imperative. Mother came with me hooting and making like a fire-siren as she peaked.
She still had hold of my ass-cheeks and she pulled and pushed saying, “Baby keep pumping and you won’t lose your hardness.” I followed her lead and my tumescence rose to its original rigidity. “Good, good,” she murmured, “ah! youth. “Okay,” she called out, “let’s do it doggie style and pump me for all your worth. Mommy needs it rough!”
We switched positions like we had rehearsed it. I took hold of her wonderful tits and squeezed gently while tugging at her nipples now and then. I made stallion to her merry mare and elicited sweet cries of pleasure from her lips. The friction was awesome as I sawed in and out of the ruddy, raw cunt of a real woman who was my mother and now my lover. Then she began to WAIL! She moved her hips back and forth in a bucking fucking that told me it was okay for me to climax as well a second time. I did the rapid plunging you do when you are on the verge of blowing your big wad.
I took firm hold of her hips and held on for dear desperation as I locked deep and let go of a still respectable amount of spill inside her tighten pussy. We broke apart falling onto my extra bed and squiggled up to lay full length and hug each other. Gasping for air we whispered endearments to our newly found sex partners as we drifted into a nap.
NAH!!! It was my mom . . . I wasn’t about to let the frolicking end. After just five minutes of getting our breath back we scrambled into the cowgirl position with me playing with her milk-jugs and her riding my saddle horn for all she was worth. In other words, the ‘rest was a fantasy.’
*
[For more hard and horny happenings read my “Family Road Trip” or “I Remember Mom”.
For daughter / dad sex check out “It Was An Accident, Honest!” under another of my ‘nom de naughty’ postings using CoverofKnight. For brother and sister go to “Incestor Sister Sister” posted under my TrojanSnake identity or “Red, Ready and Freddie” – CoverofKnight; “Lessons My Granny Taught Me” – CoverofKnight.
May your every fantasy take flight! 8==3~ (sign of the cumming cock)]
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