8 comments/ 148878 views/ 54 favorites A Matter of Timing By: aabury It was just another day, in Southern California - warm, sunny, with the hint of a breeze. Just a ho hum day -- a ho hum perfect day, like the one before and the one that would inevitably follow. No one talked about the weather here. Why should they? It was the kind of day that people in rain soaked Oregon and Washington would die for and may get sometime in the summer. (And then it would have the natives of those upper states out in numbers drinking coffee, doing Yoga and other stuff that only people with water on their brains could think of doing). But this was February. Could this be the number one reason why more human beings on the West Coast chose to live in California than in those upper states? And forget British Columbia, because my God, eh, it was in Canada. And Alaska was even beyond BC, way up there in Palin country, where there were more moose than men and your semen froze on ejaculation, so why bother? So, quite obviously young Ryan did not have the weather on his mind, as he made his way home in the hills above Pasadena. Some of the residents of the huge, and very private, homes that he drove past would have been surprised, maybe even shocked, if they had known what was really on the mind of this 22 year old senior at Occidental College. He had a porno DVD still in its ornate wrappings sitting on the passenger seat beside him. That was what was on his mind. Not just any porno DVD, but a high end production, made (it was rumored) by a popular main stream Hollywood director /producer, under a pseudonym (of course; hush, shush). All the porno that this particular production company put out was full of high production values - a strong plausible plot, superb cinematography, great sound, good acting, lavish sets and at times location shooting in exotic locales. Most were parodies of main stream productions (with imaginative fucking interposed, what were you thinking?), along the lines of that 70's classic, "The opening of Misty Beethoven." Pornographers, like for instance, everyday car drivers, or cooks, or anybody who does anything, vary from the hopeless few, to the mundane majority, to the absolutely few maestros. This pseudonymous director/producer was in the last category. Ryan had obtained this DVD from a boutique style exclusive adult shop down in the Valley. It was expensive, but for him the money represented a mere trifle of his generous allowance. And in any case he considered it money well spent. Yes sadly, Ryan was a porn addict. The kind of young man that televangelists warn us is being led astray by America's sodden liberal culture. That culture that brought on 9/11 and which would surely lead to God destroying this country like He did Sodom and Gomorrah. And to make matters worse, Ryan was not just a mindless consumer of porn, he was a connoisseur. That is why he had spent the time, effort and money to procure this exclusive DVD. He was going to watch it in the state of the art home theatre that his father had built in the basement of the new house that they had moved into a few months ago. This may have shocked his father who had never really dug porn. He had nothing against it, because after all he was a liberal, and like most liberals was against nothing; hated nothing. It just did not interest him. He would have been shocked because his home theatre was like a shrine to him. Here alone, or with family and selected friends, he viewed digitally mastered remakes of old movie classics as well as silent movie masterpieces. Here also were viewed long lost documentaries recording significant history, including bombastic ones from pathe∕news. But most importantly this was where his father enjoyed exclusive recordings of operas. A lot of money had gone into the visuals and much more into the acoustics, as a result of which the experience of anyone sitting anywhere in that home theatre, was akin to one sitting in the best seat in an opera house enjoying a live performance. The father was as passionate about opera as the son was about pornography. And there you have it -- a true generation gap. The porno movie that Ryan was going to watch was a parody of 'Meet the Fockers.' It was supposed to follow the theme of the original but with heavy doses of fucking thrown in; of course. There was going to be a lot of incestuous mating, which for some reason had lately taken Ryan's fancy. Previously, the same production outfit had made a sexual parody of 'Blazing Saddles' which itself had been a hilarious send up of westerns. This was a couple of years ago when what caught Ryan's fancy was interracial sex and orgies. Memories of that movie brought Ryan's cock to attention as he went through the security formalities at the entrance to their house. The heavy gates smoothly swung open and closed rapidly behind his car. The vehicle then traversed a long winding tree lined driveway, that effectively blocked the view from the gate, before opening suddenly onto acres of manicured space around a huge mansion. He parked his car in his part of the mammoth garage and then disabled the alarm to allow him further entry into an empty house. His father was away on a business trip (for the lack of a better way of describing the stalking of a venture capitalist), his mother was busy at work anesthetizing the able and willing, and it was Gabriella's day off. Gabriella, who had turned up at their doorstep years ago, penniless and homeless having been abandoned by her Honduran husband, to be taken in by his liberal parents. She had rewarded them by becoming their housekeeper and cook and Ryan's nanny while he was growing up, so that his mother could go to school and later on work, secure in the knowledge that her son was safe. Gabriella, who had since acquired another husband and a family that now stayed with her in the large annex connected by an earthquake proof tunnel to the mansion. He eagerly made his way to the home theatre, and entered through its solitary door. He then walked down the gently sloping floor of the very large room (its tubular interior, shaped to enhance acoustics) to the screen. He plugged his DVD into the cleverly hidden control panel behind the giant screen and then sat down in a luxuriously upholstered over sized chair in the first row right in the middle of the theatre. There were twenty other such chairs expansively distributed in what could loosely be called rows throughout the huge room. He played with the remote till he got the movie started and then dropped it on the generous mahogany table attached to his chair. The movie begins with a no nonsense fuck scene between Ben Stiller's character and that of Teri Polo's. Neither bore any resemblance to the original actors, except that Teri Polo's character was indeed a true blonde with sculptured long legs. The action is hot and passionate, made more so by the use of multiple cameras and tight editing. This after all was a high end porno. And in keeping with this high end theme, the action ends without the customary penis pull out and close up of it ejaculating. The girl then tells him she is pregnant and wonders how to break it to her father who has consented to let them get married. Just as in the original movie, her father is a very conservative character. They decide to wait till they get to Miami and meet the boy's parents. They are driven to Miami by the girl's father (playing Robert de Nero's character), a dry, crusty, and as afore mentioned, very conservative, and very suspicious ex- CIA officer. But there is a twist here not there in the original - the father fancies fucking his own daughter! This is made plain to the audience but not to the other characters in the movie. But of course he feels terribly guilty about harboring such sinful thoughts. His wife (playing Blythe Danner's character) is also very conservative and consequently very repressed, and almost subservient to her husband, but has colorful and obscene thoughts (because what the hell, conservatism be damned, this was a porno). And boy, does she have colorful and obscene thoughts! The camera focuses on her and then foggily fades out to let you know that the scene to follow is in her imagination. She imagines she is getting fucked from behind by a huge black man with a gigantic prick. This black man is hammering her so vigorously that she has to cling on to the sheets for dear life and brace herself with all her strength to prevent being pushed off the bed. The black man then disengages his cock and walks round and puts it next to her face. She eagerly begins slurping on it. He then grabs her head and pushes it down on his engorged member almost choking her. He thrusts as much as she can take down her throat and rams it in and out a few times while she sputters and tries to accommodate the whole obscene length of it. He then pulls out and walks leisurely back to her raised behind. He oils his prick and then without any preparation whatsoever thrusts it into her anus. She screams in agony as he yells obscenities at her but does not stop thrusting till the whole dammed thing is tightly embedded. He then draws back slowly till only the tip is in. He leans on her and reaches for her cunt with one hand while the other finds her breasts. Two fingers are introduced into her cunt and a thumb strums her clit. The other hand strokes breast and nipple. Then, with vigor, he again sheaths his prick in her rectum. A jack hammer rhythm of buggering is set up as fingers play on cunt and breast till her shrieks of agony turn into grunts of pleasure. The camera moves behind the pair to catch the black man literally riding the white woman, brawny black sinewy thighs clasping and muscularly controlling white alabaster ones. The action builds to a crescendo until with one last powerful thrust, he comes. There is so much stuff emitted that it flows back past the tightly embedded penis and the camera catches it leaking out on to her thighs and dripping onto the bed. A bump in the road shakes her out of her reverie and she glares balefully at her husband before woefully settling down in her seat. They reach the boy's parents' plush house on a small exclusive island off Miami. The father looks nothing like Dustin Hoffman - he is a large guy, but moves with the energy of Dustin Hoffman's character and you know he packs a mammoth organ because this is a porn movie and somewhere along the line he is going to be pronging someone with it. But the Barbra Streisand character is uncannily similar to a younger Barbra Streisand. She looks like Barbra and has the quirkiness and natural ebullience of the original character. Next, they are all taken for a tour around the house and then shown their rooms by the boy's parents. The boy and girl of course immediately start fucking. Another very well filmed sequence follows. This time the girl is on her knees and elbows most of the time, rapturously getting fucked. And yes, she takes it up the ass (this particular director had a fondness, almost a fetish for butt fucking, and apart from incest, Ryan was at this point in time very much into sodomy). Unbeknownst to the fucking couple, the girl's father stands and watches the whole sequence through a partially open door, shamelessly fondling his cock. His wife watches him watching them, but cannot gather the courage to confront him and just turns and quietly walks away. Meantime, the boy's mother (a sex therapist like in the original movie) is taking one of her clients through his paces. They have just finished a short period of yoga and meditation. He is now stretched out prone on a soft massage table while she works on his muscles. She alternates between gentle almost imperceptible rubs and very vigorous kneading. All the while she talks to him. Telling him he has these knots in his muscles, but they are really knots in his brain, preventing him from living up to his full sexual potential. This is a silver - grey haired guy, so wrinkled that it is difficult to estimate whether he has more skin hidden in crevices than in those ridges that are exposed. The boy in the meantime is done butt fucking his bride to be and is out and about roaming through the house trying to find his mother. He wants her advice on how best to break the news of his wife-to-be's pregnancy to his father-to-be. He walks down to the basement, to her "office" which is actually on a cliff looking out over the ocean. He gets to the door just as she is asking the old geezer to turn over. The old boy is of course completely naked, a point which may have escaped the viewer's attention, what with all the talking and massaging going on. He turns over and is sporting a massive erection. The wrinkled old fart has a huge cock (this is a porn movie folks) which is proudly throbbing in its tumescence. "Oh, Freddie," she says," you gorgeous man. See what you can do when you put your mind to it." He smiles and folds his hands behind his head and waits. She rubs scented oil on her hands and then reaches for his prick running her hands efficiently up and down his substantial erection. Then she takes her hands off and starts licking his prick. She works her tongue over every inch of that pole, teasing and stimulating it. Then she takes it into her mouth and gradually starts to swallow it and does not stop till she gets to the root. She pauses, and the old fart grabs her head and starts to move her head up and down on his prick. Passively, she lets him use her face. He then takes his hands off her head and reaches for her breasts under her flowing robe, and starts to massage them. She now steps back and quickly takes off the robe and is completely naked. Turning back to the table she climbs up and mounts the old boy, sinking with a sigh of pleasure on his prick with the camera zeroing in on her perfect buttocks. She then starts to gyrate energetically while he reaches up and captures her breasts. He starts massaging them vigorously and tweaks her nipples till it is obvious to the most unobservant viewer that those nipples are erect, so turned on is she with the old boy's technique. She shouts out her encouragement in her best sex therapist tones, "Ram me, hammer me, I am your goddess, I am your whore, give it to me, yes, yes." And gives it to her he does! It is while she is royally riding the old codger that she turns her head and looks straight at her son, standing there at the partially opened door. No shock, no outrage, no embarrassment, just a quizzical look on her face. And then her eyes travel down to his crotch and she sees the huge bulge there. She turns her head away with a chuckle and continues riding up and down on the old flatulent being's huge prick, with renewed vigor. Her son is mortified and retreats quickly. The next scene finds the son pulling a coke out of the fridge when his mother strolls into the kitchen. She smiles at him and says, "Enjoyed the show did you?" "No," he stutters, "I was not spying on you. I went looking for you and stumbled on that whole thing by accident." "And that was just a cucumber you happened to have in your pocket," she says drily. "Okay, okay, but does dad know what you do," he says, changing the subject to what he thinks is his advantage. "Of course he does, silly," she says, nonchalantly. "And it does not matter to him?" "Uhn huhn, not one bit." And then she continues, with a touch of annoyance," What is wrong with you? Are you really my son or has this Pam and her family made you into a constipated repressed alien?" She walks up to him and reaching up feels his neck muscles, "Oi, oi, as stiff as boards. You are stressed, my child. Come with me and we shall cure you right away." She takes him firmly by the hand and leads him down to her office. The old codger is long gone. "Now get on the table and let momma drive the demons of stress out." He gets on massage table. "Take your shirt off if you really want the benefit of my massage." He does and then lies face down. The Barbra Streisand look alike mother now dips her hands in designer oil and starts a gentle rub down. Then she gets more aggressive. While telling him how tight his neck muscles are she kneads them really hard. She then backs off and starts on his back. She works down to his buttocks. She reaches around and unzips his trousers and hauls them off his legs. She pulls his boxers down and off his buttocks and starts working on his taut gluts. After a while she pulls his boxers right off and starts kneading his naked behind and works her way down to his feet. "Now turn over," she says. He does not want to. So she forcibly turns him over. Then she is astonished and so is the viewer. Because, even though the viewer has been shown the young man's prick before, this scene highlights it. This is a skinny guy and he is sporting a huge erection. It is completely out of proportion to his thin body. Long and thick it looks like a colossal club sticking out into space. And not just sticking out passively, but throbbing menacingly. "My, my, when did you grow that thing?" She reaches out in wonder and fondles his cock. He is squirming around in embarrassment, but not really putting up a fight to get out of there. Without any inhibition whatsoever the mother is now stroking her son's prick with designer oil slicked hands; and talking, almost babbling, at the same time about how big his pee pee was, about how it could hurt a poor innocent girl. This really got Ryan excited. He unzipped his trousers and then removed them along with his briefs. Except for his tee shirt he was now naked. He began stroking his cock in time with the screen mother stroking her son's cock. The mother gets up and mounts her son. The camera again zooms onto her perfect Barbra Streisand look alike buttocks as she begins to ride her son's prick. It is a huge item and she takes a long time going down on it and then coming back off it. She reaches back and her small hand encircles it and caresses it. He reaches over and removes her hand because it is curtailing his entry. He wants his whole cock in her! Now the tempo accelerates and they can both be heard grunting in passion. The camera moves around taking in the whole fucking action but keeps returning to her gyrating buttocks. He now brings his hands around to hold those buttocks. The fingers of one hand start going up and down the median furrow till her anus is found. The camera zooms in even further till the entire screen is filled with the small area of interest and her anus can be seen filling the screen in all its wrinkled glory. Now one of his oil slickened fingers can be seen working its way past the sphincter and into her ass hole. The finger moves in tandem with the grunting. Now two fingers go in and then three! The camera pans out and the boy indicates he wants to take his mother from behind. "Oo, the doggie position, my little boy wants to feel powerful and in control and take his mother like a dog takes a bitch," says the mother as she moves into position on her hands and knees. The son with the humongous cock gets behind her and works his baton into her cunt. Slowly, he leans into her and the camera is perfectly placed to watch the whole damn thing slide in. He gets up on his haunches and taking hold of her at the waist, begins ramming her. So fierce is this ramming that she stops prattling and just hangs on for dear life. This really got Ryan worked up and he began working his own huge cock. The boy then slows down and peers down. He parts her buttocks and the faithful camera once again focuses on her anus. Now the boy squirts more oil on his hands and on her ass and then inserts his thumb into her ass and starts to work it in and out of her ass, in time to his cock going in and out of his prone mother's cunt. An index finger then joins the thumb and then another finger joins them both. The camera shows that the anal aperture has been well and truly distended. A Matter of Timing This could have gone into SciFi or Humor, but as this involves a selfish cheating wife ... if you don't like the story, well at least it's short, and you could always tell me so. As you are fully aware, anyone with the balls to write and share this cannot be hurt by words or single stars, only apathy. ***** A Matter of Timing Set in the very near future. It was the opening divorce appeal court case of the day, the public gallery already filling up fast, long before the antagonists arrived. Clearly, the wife fighting the divorce entered first, a tall, normally slim, presently heavily pregnant woman, in light blue summer frock, was accompanied by her smartly-suited and bewigged QC. A troop of other smart and no doubt expensive lawyers marched behind in support. A frail old woman sported a walking stick, while her other arm was tucked into the arm of the pregnant woman. They made themselves comfortable at their assigned seats, the lawyers setting out folders of notes, while the old woman shuffled into a reserved space in the gallery immediately behind. The young woman threw a cardigan over her shoulder to combat the cool courtroom and sat, confident, contented. The husband entered moments later, wearing a green tweed jacket, brown woollen trousers and an open-necked cream collared shirt. By his side, a single young barrister, suited but not as sharply as any of the wife's numerous briefs. "All rise for the Honourable Judge Smith QC!" starchily announced the clerk of the court. All rose as the judge, a bewigged mature woman of average height, spare build, dressed in a flowing black gown, entered and sat facing the court. She wore a stern pinched look, her eyebrows arching. While everyone else sat, the clerk rose, passing a slim folder to Judge Smith, before turning and addressing the court. "The Divorce Hearing of Saunders versus Saunders ordered both parties to take consultation leading towards reconciliation. This Appeal to that decision, is petitioned by the plaintiff Mr Alexander Saunders on the basis that the marriage is irreconcilable, due to Mrs Rebecca Saunders' pregnancy, conceived outside matrimony. Mrs Saunders contests the conception was dated well before the date of the said marriage." There was a pause while the Honourable Judge quietly read the notes, before looking up. She addressed the Counsel for Mrs Saunders. "These notes state the Saunders' wedding was eight years ago, correct?" "Yes, Your Honour, Mrs Saunders has sworn an affidavit, which I beg leave to read out, if Your Honour would graciously allow." The judge stared hawk-like at the heavily-pregnant woman, who smiled back serenely. The judge also noted the defiantly scowling husband, whose junior brief withered under Judge Smith's scornful gaze. She decided to hear the statement. "Go ahead, read." The Queens Counsellor stood, "Ahem, my client would like to state the following: 'I have always been obsessed with rock music from the late 1960s, when my dear Grandmama was a teenager. She filled me with wonderment of those times and I absorbed everything, studied the music and written extensively on the subject. Last year I was appointed Professor at London University in my specialist subject. My dear husband, Alex, doesn't share my tastes, preferring to play folk music on his old guitar. However, Alex is a brilliant inventor of household gadgets, so we are ... comfortable, ready to start our family. 'His obsession was building a Time Machine. Last year he achieved that goal and made several experimental trips back in time. He filled me with excitement at the possibilities of meeting my Grandmama's idols at first hand. So, without his knowledge, I took a journey back to the Swinging Sixties, where I met my idol, days before his tragic demise. I am now carrying his twin children, conceived in 1969, years before taking my marriage vows.' "That is the end of the statement, Your Honour. As you can see from the notes, Mr Saunders cannot divorce my client on the grounds of adultery and, under terms of their prenup agreement, whoever petitions for divorce has to surrender all assets to the other and walk away with nothing. Since the Appeal was made, DNA tests proves the father, who died in 1969, beyond doubt." The Honourable Judge Smith pondered a moment before addressing the Plaintiff, "An unusual situation, Mr Saunders. Do you have new evidence to submit supporting your appeal?" The plaintiff arose and spoke, "Your Honour, my wife was persuaded to take this course of action by her witch Grandmother-" He was interrupted by the grey-haired woman behind Mrs Saunders who stood and hurled a strangled "Wimp bastard!" and shook a fist at him. Judge Smith gave the old lady a withering look before warning her of future conduct, before turning to Saunders. "New evidence?" "None, Your Honour, I-" Justice Smith intervened, "Without new evidence, I rule this Appeal invalid and the original award for reconciliation consultation upheld." Mrs Saunders smiled smugly, crossing her swollen legs with difficulty. The ruling meant that Alex would have to support his wife and children, or otherwise give up everything he owned, including his latest invention, worth untold zillions. "No! Wait!" Alex cried. Everyone in court focussed their attention on Saunders. He lifted his left arm, pulled his sleeve up and fiddled with a phone-like device. His image shimmered for a moment. Then in a flash, he was almost instantly replaced by a man of similar height and build but with unfashionably long shoulder-length hair and thick drooping moustache, wearing a long multicoloured kaftan, strings of beads around his neck and a battered old guitar, covered in stickers, strapped to his back. His brief, noticing Alex was wearing cotton trousers and sandals, couldn't help gasping, "So, it's true!" "Your Honour," Alex declared, "I'm withdrawing my Divorce Appeal in order to apply for an Annulment on the grounds that my wife is also ... my granddaughter-" "What?!" came a chorus from the defendant's lawyers. The old woman sitting behind the lawyers in the gallery stood momentarily before fainting away, causing further commotion. "No! It's not possible, my grandmother absolutely hates you!" Mrs Saunders screams, "She would-" "Of course she's always hated me," smiled Alex, "I'm the spitting image of the boyfriend who jilted her pregnant skank groupie arse, all those years ago." The end. A Matter of Timing The boy leans down and whispers something into the mother's ear. She nods her head and he withdraws his weapon from her cunt. The camera focuses on the huge thing disengaging. It is long and boy, is it thick! As it hangs free between her buttocks, the viewer is drawn into the optical illusion of a tiny anal opening and a massive battering ram. It is meant to get the viewer all hot and bothered, and it did just that to Ryan. He is about to explode but holds off because he wants to savor what he knows is coming next. And there it was - the boy places his cock at his mother's anus and she reaches back and helps it in. Slowly, he leans into her and feeds his cock in; gradually working it in till it is anchored to the root. He then withdraws and then quickly slides it back all the way in. Once again he gets up on his haunches and takes hold of her at the waist only this time the camera moves around and the audience can see that it quite clearly is her ass that is being violated, with her vagina winking open and shut below. With that he starts battering her ass. And once again she is being hammered and hanging on for dear life. This really got Ryan going. Two things then happened, simultaneously. Ryan's cannon started letting loose and precisely at that moment his mother opened the door to the home theater and walked in. Ellen's anesthetic work day had been shortened. In fact it had been practically decimated by patients not showing up for their surgeries and surgeons calling in to cancel cases. So, instead of being done by late evening she was down way before noon. She had decided to indulge herself and spend the rest of the day doing nothing. She headed home to curl up with the latest by Maeve Binchy. Having found Ryan's car parked in the garage she had looked everywhere for him and had then gone to look for him in the home theater as the last option. Because of excellent sound proofing she could not hear a thing till she actually opened the door. Then the intense sounds of the ass fucking couple hit her even as in a split second her eyes took in the scene. A startled Ryan had reflexively stood up and turned around towards the opening door. Forever, this scene would be imprinted in her memory - her six foot four son, standing, back bent and pelvis thrust forward, with a hand around his huge cock that was spewing arcs of fluid onto the carpet; on his face a shocked expression was quickly replacing the lusty yet completely idiotic look that men get when they come, and behind him on the giant screen a close up of a huge penis pumping into a dilated ass hole. Quickly she turned around and left, closing the door behind her. Her mind was a seething cauldron of emotions and thoughts, not all of them maternal. It had been rudely yanked from the mundane to the salaciously sexual in the blink of the proverbial eye. She made her way instinctively to the huge walk-in dressing closet in the master bedroom. There she changed from her work clothes to shorts, tee shirt and running shoes and took off on the jogging trail on their vast estate. Ryan, his mind a numbed non entity, put his clothes back on and set about cleaning out the gooey mess off the soft carpet. But first, he turned off the porn movie in which the delicious, uninhibited Barbra look alike mother was still savagely getting it up the butt and was back to muttering maternal platitudes as she was being brutally sodomized. For all the planning that had gone into this masturbatory session, an essential component had been overlooked - what to do with his ejaculate. This was the first time he had used the home theater for masturbation and had obviously not thought things through. This irritated him as he had a well ordered mind and was not given to impulsive wanton behavior. The greater part of his well ordered mind, however, was temporarily missing. To say he was stunned was an understatement. In the meantime, Ellen worked up a sweat in next to no time, jogging furiously to rid her mind of what she had just witnessed. But she could not. She could not rid herself of the sexual arousal she had felt when she first saw Ryan's spurting cock. And her mind gave her no respite, as it played that scene over and over again. It was not as if she was sex starved, though she and Roger had gravitated to the sexual activity of a well married couple. But this was more from mutual choice than lack of interest. Or so she had thought till now. The sight of that giant sputtering cock had filled her with unholy thoughts of which she was thoroughly embarrassed because the holder of that cock was her son. Exciting, erotic thoughts that had actually got her vagina all wet and bothered, telling her that her libido was intact and far in excess of the fucking she was getting at the moment. She got back from her jog, showered, changed and tried to think her way out of her dilemma. Ryan, meanwhile, got hold of the stain remover aerosol that the bi weekly cleaning service had complimentarily left behind and with the help of a bunch of paper towels had thoroughly cleansed the carpet of any evidence of his emission. He met his mother in the living room, in front of the giant window that looked out over their vast property, the valley below, to maybe a hint of the ocean outlined on the horizon. All he could say was," Sorry, mother." She looked at him fondly; it was difficult for her to get angry with him. She was placid by nature and he was her only child. She smiled and said," Sorry for masturbating or for getting caught or for making a mess?" And she was instantly proud that her voice was level and natural. He sighed in relief, she was not angry with him, "For everything. But mainly for embarrassing myself." "Did you clean up the mess?" "Yes, I really don't want dad to know of this." "But you did violate his space. You know that he considers that place a shrine." "Yes I do," and he thought, I would have got away with it if you had not turned up. Aloud he continued," And I am truly sorry." "Well then, that's that, and the incident is forgotten." And with that she turned around and left. Ryan heaved a sigh of relief. His mother was a straightforward truthful person, if she said she would not tell his father, he knew she would not. And for him that was the end of the embarrassing incident. Of course, he would ruminate about it later as is the wont of any thinking person, but as far as its implications went in the context of his relationship with his parents, he knew that the unfortunate episode would never be brought up again. But not for Ellen. She was not going to mention it to Ryan again and she was certainly not going to tell Roger. From that perspective the incident was over. Nevertheless, in the days that followed she was reminded of the incident on many an occasion. Not just rumination but full blown mental imagery. The vision of Ryan with a hand around his sputtering giant cock would grab her out of nowhere. For instance - she was wheeling a young man who had just had his knee repaired out of the operating room, when suddenly her mind produced that vision. This so shocked her that she let out a loud involuntary, "Oh," Not just an ordinary, "Oh," but one on steroids. Loud enough to startle the young man out of his post anesthetic stupor and make him attempt to sit up mumbling, "Whish, whirs." Quickly, she reverted to her professional self and soothed the young man back into slumber even as she wheeled him into the recovery area and transferred his care to a nurse there. On this occasion the mental image of her son's rod had produced a feeling of shock and awe. But on other occasions she felt that the incident was funny. Ha, ha, funny. She would suddenly break out in a huge smile or giggle uncontrollably at the memory. It really was funny. Taken out of context the sight of a man in the throes of an orgasm is quite funny; son or no son. However, overall, with or without context, she found that she had been and still was very aroused by the incident. A big cock spurting, framed by a big cock buggering an anus, is erotic if you are into stuff like that. But was she really into stuff like that? She liked sex, she liked being fucked. Was her love of sex beyond the realm of what could be termed 'normal'? And why was she so upset? Because it was a huge cock? Or was it because it was her son's cock? Or was it because it was her son's huge erupting cock? Or was it because of something completely different -- had it lit a fuse in her? Yup, she could not deny it, try as she might, and she subconsciously had for quite some time, the sight of her son's cock had excited her. In fact, she finally admitted to herself, it was the thought of what her son's cock would do to her that excited her. She wanted to feel every ridge of that gigantic cock in her cunt, wanted to be rammed by it, wanted to be taken and ravished by her son. "What is wrong with me?" she thought, "Incest, that's what it is. Horrible and so against nature." Or was it? She was not religious, in the sense that she did not go to church at all, despite being brought up by strict Episcopalian parents. She was a part time believer in God at best, like when things were going to hell in a hang basket; like when the vital signs of a patient suddenly plummeted and she desperately searched for clues as to why that had happened and what could be done to fix it. That was when she spouted forth the equivalent of a thousand Hail Mary's. No, it was not she but her Episcopalian upbringing that asserted that incest was a sin -- horrible and against nature. Maybe the God created by Christians thought it was a sin and a punishable offence. But what of nature? What did nature think of incest? Unlike God, who spoke through the scriptures, at times quite bombastically and others contrarily, nature spoke through science. Interpretation through the scriptures or interpretation through science? Both fallible. But which should she fall into? She was certainly more bent towards nature. And the more she thought about it, the more she was convinced that nature could not give a fart about incest, as long as it was fucking without procreation. But then, what of self pollination? That was not unknown in the plant world. In the end, all her attempts at intellectually analyzing the situation came a cropper. Quite simply, the non analyzing, non judgmental, completely emotional part of her brain took over and confirmed for her that she lusted after her son's cock. She wanted it up her cunt; every fucking inch of it. Was she a nymphomaniac or a creepy kinky sexually predatory creature for thinking like she did? For clues, she thought back to her high school days and her first sexual encounter. They had fucked in the back of his dad's truck after a movie date. It was good as far as first fucks go, with the usual joy and wonder. They had fucked a few more times and then she and her then boy friend had mutually moved on to other things. When she first met Roger in college, they had fucked whenever they could. Way back then, it was almost nonstop. That was what led to Ryan's conception, in the first place. She was nineteen and had just finished her first year in college when Ryan was born. She had dropped out of college to look after her baby. They had been supported by both sets of parents as Roger finished college and then made his way through law school. That was when Gabriella found them or had they found her? Thanks to Gabriella, Ellen was able to go back and finish her college education. She then went on to medical school and finally an anesthesiology residency. They had tried for more children but to no avail. They then decided that was that and that the joy of having children was in the process not in the numbers - having one was as much of a life changing experience as having eleven. He had a vasectomy and she had her tubes tied. After the first few years their rate of fucking had decidedly decreased. But it had not led to her seeking excessive sex elsewhere, at least not straightaway. No, she thought, she was not a nymphomaniac. Or was she? She had fucked outside her marriage. And so surprisingly had Roger! She had screwed a physical therapist, a black anesthesiologist visiting from the U.K., and an anesthetic assistant. Not at the same time and not with the same amount of passion. He had screwed a paralegal, a fellow attorney and an exotic Indonesian beauty that he had met on Bali while looking at an investment opportunity there. Again, not at the same time and not with the same amount of passion. By the time his cock sampled Indonesian cunt, Roger was about to graduate from being a very successful corporate lawyer to a venture capitalist. The best kind of venture capitalist that there is - a very lucky one. The Indonesian beauty was an insatiable fuck machine. Recently widowed, she had been the trophy wife of an older business magnate and had inherited his vast empire. Roger, was at that time working as a corporate lawyer for a multinational that was looking into acquiring a part of that empire. She had let him have her in every orifice, in some very imaginative ways. He had been surprised at his staying power, matching her sexual exuberance and then some. There were nights wherein she had fallen asleep, completely exhausted, and he still had a hard on and the desire to fuck. He had just spread her legs and sheathed his cock and carried on and she had responded half asleep. One night he had turned her over and sodomized her. His buggering cock had woken her up but all she had done was to lift herself up on her haunches to give him better access to her asshole. She had gone back to sleep promptly once he had come. But that had been an exceptional sexual liaison. He had never been able to replicate it with anyone else not even the Indonesian beauty once the initial infatuation had worn off. By nature he was not greatly into sex. It was as if his fucking Ellen in the initial years of knowing her and then the fucking of this Indonesian beauty had done it for him. He had not hankered after any other woman. They had told each other about their affairs. Neither had felt that the affair was going to last but had enjoyed the brief interlude, secure in the knowledge that their marriage meant more than just sex. Neither had broadcast their affair and in keeping with their introspective natures had conducted each affair very discreetly. After all, they were both free thinking liberals, unhindered by constricting religious beliefs. Perfidious liberals with no Fox News dictated conservative values. Okay, maybe neither of them was a nymphomaniac, but was she a creepy, kinky, sexually predatory creature? The black anesthesiologist from the U.K. - Trevor, was decidedly kinky. He loved to lick. And he loved to fuck ass. Their fucking sessions would involve virtually hours of him licking her everywhere, with special emphasis of course on her cunt. But not just restricted to it. He would suck on her toes and lick the soles of her feet and bite her heels, first one foot and then the other. And at times he would do both feet together! And he loved to have her lie on her stomach and he would then lick all the way up her spine from the crease of her buttocks to the top of her neck. He would of course start by parting her buttocks and licking in and around and inside her anus. Proceeding higher up, he would then suck on the protruding bones of her spine as if sucking on a marrow bone complete with the loud chuck, chuck, noise of intense suction. The man was kinky. He would watch her pissing and then start licking her cunt even as urine was dribbling from it. He wasn't given to drinking piss but if some trickled down his throat while he was licking, it was all humdrum okay. Like he said, no bacteria could survive stomach acid, and since he could not taste or smell too well, it bothered him not a bit. He would continue licking till long after she stopped pissing to ensure that while he was there, she never had to clean herself off with toilet paper after pissing. (But she did clean off his saliva, surreptitiously). And he was thoroughly into buggery. She had never taken it up the ass till she met him. In the eight months their affair lasted, she took it up the ass every time they fucked. He had fucked her ass in very imaginative ways. Perhaps the kinkiest was that one memorable occasion when he had buggered her on the toilet. He had made sure she had a full bladder by getting her to drink a ton of fluids. Then he had her suck him to full erection. Next, he sat on the toilet seat and had her lower herself on him. Her lubricated ass hole sank on his tool till it was buried. He had then lifted her up and down quite vigorously on his cock and begged her to let go of her pee. She was so full of it by then that she really had no choice, gushing urine on both of them, before trickling to the bowl and a modest amount spattering the tiled bathroom floor. He had then put both his hands in the urinary stream, chuckling with glee as he immersed his hands in her pee. Whilst she was still peeing, he had picked her up, and moved her to the wash basin. She tried to hold her pee but failed and so sprayed some more on the bathroom floor, as he carried her with his cock buried in her ass as if she weighed nothing. He was a big guy. He had placed her on the rim of the basin and she could see herself peeing in the mirror. He had vigorously buggered her, holding her up pressed against him, all the while forcing her to look at the mirror and acknowledge in filthy language that she was getting it up the ass hole from a black mother fucker, over and over again, till he finally came in her rectum. The affair ended when his one year visiting physician's visa expired and he had to return to the UK. Looking back at what she had done with him, it was startling and so out of character. But at the time it was just a part of lusting after him and getting caught up in the sexual excitement of the affair. Did that make her a creepy, kinky, sexually predatory creature? It had not left her craving for kinky sex, or for that matter sex outside her marriage for quite some time. Perhaps it had satisfied that proverbial seven year itch. Her affair with the physical therapist had been completely different. Nothing kinky. Her elderly widowed aunt had broken her hip bone and had to have the hip joint replaced. Ellen had taken her to all her appointments including the surgery and the rehab physical therapy that followed. That was when she had met Jim. Big, gentle Jim. Perhaps it was his gentleness that attracted her. She knew not. All she knew was that after she had met him a few times she developed a severe crush on him. And when he indicated that he was just as attracted to her, it was a matter of time before they fucked. The fucking had followed normal paths of fucking. For a big guy he had a fairly average cock. So it was not cock size that kept her interest going. Neither was it his inventiveness in copulating nor his kinkiness. He was strictly a missionary position, in and out kind of guy. It was really his gentleness and his softness that completely overwhelmed her. But there was something about him that disturbed her. For all his gentleness, he seemed to step out of character at times. It was not that he became violent and beat the crap out of her or some such. But rather, in the course of fucking her, he would at times use his size and strength to hold her absolutely still. She felt like she was made into an inanimate object into which he was thrusting his cock. Completely expressionless eyes would hold her gaze. No attempt at trying to kiss her or any other sign of affection. There was something frightening about this total lack of empathy. And if she tried to look away he would force her to look at him, even if he had at times to pry her eye lids open. The odd thing was she found herself submitting and liking it. Maybe she was a bit of a submissive and enjoyed being dominated at times. A Matter of Timing But, in the final analysis, she did not want to be possessed or dominated by Jim - nothing against being dominated and nothing against Jim; but the two together just did not feel right. And that was the reason why she had abruptly ended the affair. She had expected him to hound her and she had a plan in mind to fix that. But quite unexpectedly he had quietly moved away. The anesthetic assistant had actually been her first extra marital dalliance. It was also to be her shortest. It had happened while she was an anesthesiology resident. He was short, small and plump, with the clearest blue eyes that she had ever seen. Those blue eyes could take on a cow like worshipping expression. And it was exactly that expression that had got him into her pants in the first place. At the end of a long work day she had gone to the anesthetic work room to find a piece of equipment that her attending physician had wanted her to have available for a case the next day. Being a diligent person, she had wanted to make sure the equipment was there and would be ready to be used. It was quite late and only people working the late shift were around. In the anesthetic work room she found Larry all alone and puttering around. He helped her find what she wanted. It had taken some doing and they had finally found it in a remote part of the room behind some large shelves. That was when he had made his move. She suddenly found his hands groping her breasts even as he dry humped her quite frantically. With a surprised cry she freed herself and turned around furiously. She was all set to slap his face and give him a tongue lashing. But she found him whimpering and shaking with his head down and his hands clasped together in wretched surrender. He had then looked up at her with that cow like worshipping expression in those clear blue eyes, telling her he was so sorry but he could not help himself as she was so beautiful and desirable and he was a pathetic loser. Tears welled up in his eyes and trickled down his cheeks. Something snapped in her. The proverbial heart strings, maybe. Or maybe it was the maternal side of her that responded. She found herself actually wiping his tears and caressing his face. He just stood still and let her fuss over him. Then he gently held her hands and kissed them softly. And then he knelt down and abjectly kissed her shoes. When she tried to move away he held on to her legs for dear life and began kissing her ankles and then her legs. She just stood there (she could never explain exactly why) and let him work his way up below her dress all the way to her panty clad cunt. She knew not how he did it but he managed to back her onto a stool and remove her panties. Then he went to work on her cunt. He gave her the best mouth fucking of her life. Absolutely the best. To this day her cunt got all wet and bothered with the memory. She came, she knew not how many times. A steady stream of cunt squelching climaxes. When she came off her high she discovered that he had entered her and was fucking her feverishly. He did not last long but came with a prolonged burst of hot come, flooding her vagina. Later on, when she looked back at her affair she realized that this must have been his modus operandi; his way of getting off his jollies; his way of getting women to fuck him. It was not much of an affair. It lasted maybe for half a dozen encounters. It lasted even that long mainly because of his oral skills. But she was not really attracted to him and maternal feelings have their limitations as far as fucking is concerned. She had finally and firmly turned him down and that was that. Later, he had drifted off to another hospital. So, was it maternal feelings that attracted her to Ryan? Or was her kinky side attracted to his massive cock especially since it was her son's? And as a corollary was it the submissive part of her sexual make up that Ryan and his huge and surely dominating cock had awakened? Or was it just a middle aged woman's fascination with a younger and obviously very virile man? Again, in the final analysis all intellectual scrutiny failed. The earthier, baser part of her mind took over and told her that she lusted after that cock, and wanted it up her cunt; every fucking inch of it. That that cock was her son's cock mattered not at all. But what of her son? What of Ryan? He had never really thought of his mother in a sexual way. And even after the incident he did not do so. If anything, the episode had left him with an enormous sense of embarrassment. He was an intelligent lad with a well ordered mind. A mind rooted very strongly in reality; the mind of a lawyer. And that was exactly what he was striving to become - a lawyer, like his father. The fact that he had been caught in discomfiting circumstances was humiliating, he should not have allowed it. Also, some of the discomfiture stemmed from the fact that he liked, no, adored pornography. His logical mind could not stomach this. But the instinctive, emotional, primitive part of his mind absolutely wallowed in it. This conflict between civility and depravity was now a part of his identity. He defined himself as the worldly, poised, knowledgeable entity that mingled with his parent's guests and friends as an equal and reveled in how well he conducted himself. And yet, he also reveled in the quagmire of pornography. Not so much with pornographic literature (if there is such an entity) as with the raw visual stuff with all the added grunting and squealing sound effects. It was not that it acted as a poor substitute for the real thing. He was well experienced in the real thing. His good looks and poised, self assured manner had got him plenty of real women to fuck. His liberal, well heeled parents had provided him with a fully furnished luxury apartment in downtown Pasadena. He divided his time as he pleased between his two residences. As a result, he could do as he pleased when he was not at their home and no one questioned his comings and goings. Given that he had a lot of money to burn and time and space to burn it in he had laid more than his fair share of Southern Californian womanhood in very many imaginative ways. But the fact remained that despite this he still loved pornography. Go figure. In the days that followed the DVD debacle, his embarrassment ensured that he did not indulge himself masturbating incessantly to more pornographic stuff (though he could not help but use his well lubricated hands a few times). Also, he had no designated girl friend at the moment and no undesignated fuck partner either (though he had a few prospects in mind). So even if embarrassment did not prevent him from sticking his prick in real live fleshy holes, a lack of availability did. In fact, in the days that followed he began noticing his mother. Or rather, she made him notice her because of her behavior. He caught strange looks from her. Strange, because they were furtive and the moment he saw her looking his way, she quickly looked away. Why? She had never done that before. And strange because most of these surreptitious glances were at his genital area. And then her behavior. As the days rolled past, he could not but notice that she would get decidedly fidgety, almost like she was nervous, whenever they were alone for any length of time. She would flush and blush inexplicably and her eyes would dart hither and thither, while talking about something mundane. He had even heard a sharp intake of breath on a few occasions when she had come upon him unexpectedly. Like when she had come upon him bending over or when his crotch was thrust forward in some activity and he was wearing shorts. He had never viewed her in a sexual manner before. She was his mother - that vague female thing that softly but firmly told him to do this or that. And it wasn't as if overnight he had visions of her climbing on his cock and fucking the daylights out of him. No, even the mind of a young man with a pornographic bent takes time to reach florid incestual conclusions. Gradually, over the next few weeks her strange behavior made him think the seemingly impossible. Could his own mother be coming on to him? Could she be sexually attracted to him? Wow, that was too much. But really, could she? His mother was certainly attractive. He had just never thought of her that way. But now, he began seeing her in a new light. As a woman. As a mature woman. As a mature woman, still in the prime of her sexual life. She was tall for a woman, and regular exercise had made her body taut and had kept middle age spread at bay. In addition nature had bestowed on her features, that while not rendering her drop dead gorgeous, gave her a beauty that grew on you the more you saw of her. Her breasts were decidedly small but definitely a perky handful. Her hips and buttocks were emphatically spectacular - just the right size and firm. Put all that together and you had a prime specimen of womanhood. A prime specimen ready to be fucked. But was she? Ready to be fucked, that is? By him? Her son? The logical part of his mind found lots of flaws with this assumption. But the unreasoning, primordial, emotional, lusty part of his mind was getting more and more convinced of it with each passing day. That she was his mother and what he was contemplating committing was incest, mattered not in the least. Perhaps, it added something extra delicious for his primeval mind. He now began viewing her in a different light. Different parts of her anatomy now took on hitherto unknown properties; properties of a decidedly sexual nature. She had soft womanly hands with long fingers. That was his mother. But this new creature that he envisioned had hands that were graceful and seductive and had fingers that extended forever. Fingers that moved enticingly and beguilingly, tempting him to suck on each perfectly formed one of them till their owner cried out in fulfillment. And when they were displayed, for example, on the dining table innocently transferring food from plate to mouth they became, in his fancy, delicate instruments of sexual gratification. He imagined those fingers working their way into her cunt and then vigorously bringing her to orgasm in a most unladylike fashion, or encompassing his cock and tenderly yet sensuously masturbating him to ecstasy. After all the boy was a connoisseur of pornography even though he wanted to believe it was his alter ego - the unreasoning, primordial, emotional, lusty part of his mind. Her feet were sinewy and her toes, long and elegant. Runner's feet. With high arches and graceful lines from heel to well shaped toes. He had always been conscious that she had good feet, as in feet that were not misshapen or thick and ugly. That was his mother. But now those very same feet took on definite fetish tones as sexual instruments both for what those supple toes and soft feet could do to his hard on but also for what he could do to them. Yup, he was definitely into feet. He loved to caress them, work the toes, lick them from heel to toes and suck on each toe individually and then get them all into his mouth at once and run his tongue on their undersides till saliva rolled down his cheeks. Not every foot, but special ones. After all the boy was a connoisseur of pornography even though he wanted to believe it was his alter ego - the unreasoning, primordial, emotional, lusty part of his mind. His favorite had belonged to a librarian in her mid thirties, mousy and rather undistinguished in her looks. He had come across her just a year ago. She was not ugly with a thick face and adenoidal features or anything as revolting as that. But not someone to turn heads either. She was thin and wore glasses. What distinguished her was a perfect figure. But she kept it hidden under non descript clothes. A complete and utter sense of inadequacy enveloped her. She had never quite grown out of adolescent insecurity and carried that diffidence to adulthood. He would never have noticed her if he did not have a pornographic bent of mind with a penchant for fetishes. It was a warm summer's day and he had come across her sitting on a bench in a park. He had climbed up roughly hewn stone steps and the first thing he saw as he came up to eye level with them were her naked feet swinging to and fro. He stopped and stared at her feet. Long and lean, muscular and shapely with toes that went on forever without the stubbiness and calluses brought on by years of being confined in tight closed shoes. His gaze travelled upwards. It being a warm summer day she had on an impulse allowed herself to be dressed skimpily (for her, that is). Thus was revealed to his upwards travelling gaze perfectly shaped legs exposed to her knees and then a naked hour glass waist before a blouse covered her beasts. By the time his gaze reached her nondescript face he was in lust. The problem really was that most men's gazes stopped at her face. As would have his were it not that fate made him behold her feet first. And he was sold. He set himself down on the bench, as far away from her as possible, and made the most original opening remark of all time, " Nice day." It took a moment or two for her to get that he was talking to her, and then she replied in a most original way, " Yes, it is." From there, their conversation traversed more original pathways, till as most strangers, who have time on their hands and do not take an instant dislike to the other person, they reached topics of mutual agreement. On that particular day they both had time on their hands and in a short while had reached a plateau in their conversation that necessitated moving somewhere for coffee. Which they did and found that they had more things in common than either had thought of and necessitated moving somewhere else for further opportunities to indulge in further character forming conversation. Since her apartment was close by, it was the most logical place to repair to. It was a neat and well kept apartment, cozy and warm. Just like the owner was, he was beginning to discover. Since it was dinner time by then, she had whipped up a superb vegetarian pasta concoction in her orderly kitchen in next to no time. Afterwards, she had brought out a bottle of vintage port that she had poured into two Waterford crystal glasses that she had inherited from her Irish grandmother. They had sipped the elegant port while watching Jon Stewart's Daily Show on Comedy Central (they had both agreed that he was a sane voice in contrast to the insanity on the Fox News Channel). And of course it was most natural that some of their body parts would collide (quite by accident, of course) and some of that elegant port would spill on to her perfectly laundered light colored dress. And of course he would react in the time ordained clumsy male fashion and attempt to shoo away the stains with his bare hands. And of course his hands would reach parts they were not supposed to paw. And of course she would reach out with her delicately feminine hands to prevent this and their hands would intertwine. And of course they would then gaze into each other's eyes with hands entwined. But here is where the script departs from Romantic Novel lines. After all, this is an erotic, even more - a pornographic tale, with a protagonist who has a pornographic bent of mind. So instead of progressing along soulful lines, which may have satisfied her vegetarian bent of liberal mind, and progressed further to gazing soulfully into her eyes before falling onto his knees and professing his everlasting love for her, he had taken hold of one hand and fed those graceful fingers into his mouth and sucked on them for all he was worth. This of course took her completely by surprise as it would anybody with a non pornographic, non fetish, bent of mind. She yelped and tried to pry her hand loose but he had it in a vise grip. So gradually she relaxed and gave herself to this new experience. Then he took her other hand and sucked on digits from that hand. And not just sucking on fingers. It progressed to licking the palms, with each slurp starting at the base of the hand and progressing lazily up to a fingertip. And then he began to move up on the limb nearest him, licking her soft forearm and then her arm, savoring the soft down that covered them, and nibbling on the flesh. He reached her shoulder and her sleeveless blouse. Without missing a beat he lifted her arm and applied his tongue to her shaved arm pit savoring the salinity left from the warm day. She felt ticklish but despite her diffidence was getting turned on. Then, nonchalantly he slid her blouse off her shoulders so it pooled at her waist. Next, he reached for her bra clasp and with practiced ease he rid her breasts of their constricting influence. Before she could really grasp the fact, she was naked to her waist. And he had fastened his mouth to a nipple. A perfectly formed nipple that immediately responded by getting as hard and erect as the Eiffel tower. When she realized what was going on she moved her hands to his head with the intention of removing his presumptuous head from her breast. Instead she found herself clasping his head and fondling his hair just as he moved off the nipple and opened his mouth to gobble up a large portion of her breast. His tongue then began playing with the nipple, teasing and tormenting it until she began thrusting her pelvis upwards obscenely and quite uncharacteristically. He then moved off her breast and his tongue licked a path downwards unerringly towards her crotch. When he got there, without let or hindrance he effortlessly removed her skirt and panties and holding her legs widely apart attacked her thus lewdly exposed vagina. He had moved from sucking her fingers to sucking her cunt so slickly and so quickly that it took a little while before she realized she was stark staring raving naked with her legs flung open, inviting a relative stranger into her copulatory canal. A relative stranger who happened to be yet fully clothed and certainly much younger than her. With realization of her situation came the unmistakable realization that she was really into what this much younger fully clothed man was doing to her. And then he began fucking her with his tongue. First, it snaked its way past the folds of her cunt into her pleasure box. And then he set up a jack hammer rhythm with it, working it in and out of her cunt with the energy of youth till her cunt could not help but release fluids and relax itself with abandon around his marauding oral organ. Then he pulled it out and set about flicking the nub of her clitoris with the tip. After the full lingual vaginal invasion this was the icing on the cake and she ground her sex onto his face, closed her legs strongly around his head and climaxed with a muted grunt. She had never experienced a sexual high that was this stratospheric. As a matter of fact she had never had oral sex before. This was a first. A mind boggling first. When she descended to ground level she discovered that he had moved off her cunt and had rendered himself bereft of clothing and now stood before her with a turgid cock begging for attention. " My god," she thought, " that is huge." But she did not have much time to muse because he laid her lengthwise on the couch and holding her legs apart sank down on her with his rigid cock aimed at her cunt. All that oral activity had rendered her vagina ready for penetration. But obviously not for a weapon of this magnitude because it sank in easily about one fourth of its length and then ran into what seemed to be a brick wall. She felt stuffed. Not making further ingress, he looked for something else to do and saw her legs and feet splayed out on either side. His earlier attraction to her feet took hold and he raised up a foot and examined it even as one quarter of his cock was still stuffed up her cunt. He felt its texture and the outline of tendons with his kneading fingers. His fingers ran up her long, straight and definitely aristocratic toes getting acquainted with each of them in a rather intimate fashion. Then he began orally worshipping them. Each toe in turn was lavished with saliva, and after that attention was given to the rest of her elegant foot, with every inch of it licked and coated richly with spit. He took his time with this, savoring the experience, thrilled to discover this aspect of his erotic persona.