5 comments/ 31791 views/ 19 favorites My Immoral Mom Immortalized By: coverofknight {Author's note: You can get drunk on moonshine faster than with a fine wine, but the appreciation of the what's in the bottle - poured into a delicate crystal goblet and sipped, beats guzzling out of a mason jar; if you don't understand that distinction, this narrative is not for you.} The following is a transcript from: More ScandaLess News On-Line Video Magazine Interview with famous and infamous artist Seqz'tus Empriapal by Jack Ribaldson Copyright MSLNM Productions 2015 [Video tape begins, Seqz'tus Empriapal is already talking] . .ere's your drink, Jack. Listen I know what you want. You want the real story behind my most famous work and to know if the rumors are true that it's me and my mom fucking. Well that's the real deal. But I get to tell the story in my own way, just like I do my art in my own way. I know you will edit, to fit your time slot, but if you want the dirt, and let's face it: that's what your stock in trade is; you will still have to have my words to fill in the scandal. Jack Ribaldson: Okay, Seqz'tus, but I certainly will have some questions along the way. Seqz'tus Empriapal: Of course, but try not to interrupt too much. We can always handle those later; you can drop them in with your editing. JR: Fair enough. But let me start with a few basic ones for our interview. Your mother didn't stick you with that moniker at birth, did she? SE: No, I was originally christened Ryan James Mallory, but I changed my name to reflect the art I wanted to create. JR: Well, the first certainly sounds like what you do . ." SE: (interrupting) My artistic name was created just like I create my art. It is pronounced, 'Sexed us Em-pry-uh-pal' spelled S E Q Z apostrophe T U S, E M P R I A P A L. The first name evokes the word sex, but is spelled with a Q which represents the first letter of the formal type of my genre. Sextus is Latin for six, the six sides of my art cubes. Also there was an ancient philosopher called Sextus Empiricus. But I changed that to Empriapal, an Emprise is an adventure or enterprise. Priapal has to do with the penis, as in priapism, the condition of being forever erect, a medical term invented even before some guys took too many Viagra. (both men chuckle) But since the animation of my sculptures are looped, that concept is also referenced in the second part of my name. JR: You mentioned that the letter Q as the first letter of your type of art . .? SE: That's right, formally it is termed Quadra-Erotic Depictions. I know the more popular name for what I do is 'four-nography', a play on pornography and fornication, with photography and phonograph for good measure, sometimes spelled with the number 4, as in 4-nography. JR: The first three terms are clear enough in the word play, you work depicts sex acts, which are taken from images of living people while they are doing intimate things, but phonograph? SE: Because of the cyclical or repetitive animation, things 'cum' round and round, again and again. The four dimensions, height, width, length and the fourth dimension, time; is the fourth [quad] element which makes the cube-loops of the erotic depictions of humans having sex, or making love I should say really. JR: Okay. I doubt that many of our viewers have not at least heard about your work, while few might get to see your works at a showing or museum exhibit, the rest of us can ogle the ones which have been released to public domain and posted on the Internet. The number of hits initially crashed some of the porn site that first offered your works. But just in case there is some person who has just woken up out of a six year coma. Could you provide a brief description of what Quadra-Erotic Depictions are, and how you create them? IN THE HOME of Fran Mallory, her son was working in his basement lab of computers and cameras, and equipment pieces, most of which she had no idea what they were for. Her son was not a genius, just very smart and hard working. Fortunately he had a day job as a programmer; since she and her husband had divorced many years ago finances were always tight. She worked as a secretary, but always wanted to be a movie star. Money was nice; but what Fran really craved was being famous. Of course, she also had a strong sex drive too, and what she would settle for, right at the moment, was a good fuck. No luck. The only guy around was her son. Ryan knew his mom wanted to be famous, and thought that if she had somehow been discovered twenty years earlier, she might have become a Hollywood starlet, or married someone of notoriety and achieved celebrity that way. She still was very youthful looking in her figure and features, but the time when her opportunities for those kinds of laurels had passed. Nor was their small Indiana town the place where persons of fame were found by passing film talent scouts. For himself, well, he had some ideas for an interesting use of some of the modern technology that was cutting edge, but while he was sure it would be innovative, he did not have the resources for the BIG concept he was working on. He imagined becoming a world-renown scientist or researcher, but what he really wanted to be was a celebrated artist. He daydreamed that his success would make his mother proud. But not just pride in her son, but perhaps a sense of gratitude, combined with a feeling that by clinging to him she might gleam some of the acclaim that he had acquired. If that acclaim clung to her as well, as his loyal parent who had supported him and believed in him, then she might have a moment in the spotlight too. Perhaps then she might be so enamored of his public adoration that she would fall under the same thrall of hero worship. Thus she might succumb to his advances, allow him liberties which a son should not take with his mother. In his mind's eye not only did he take those liberties, but he was libertine enough to take her as well. She willingly gave herself to his sexual advances and desired to be his secret lover, not just the mistress of the household, but the mistress of the internationally known and honored . . . "RYAN! DINNER'S ON!" His mom's words interrupted his ruminations. He bounded up the stairs, not caring if she saw the long erection tenting his trousers. He wanted to get her thinking about him in an erotic way, even if they remained just two plain folk from the boondocks, they might still have some fun together. He could be creative in bed too! [Tape paused while water glasses are refilled] SE: (resuming) Let me provide some context to the subject of the three dimensional holographic sculptures I create, of couples copulating. Remember we have seen museum displays of anatomy in the most intimate details, including a real pregnant woman preserved, with a cut-away to view the fetus in Gunther von Hagen's "World Body". While sex on film is nothing new, the imaging techniques for medical purposes have become more advanced and sophisticated, and these have been applied to sexual intercourse in studies, and are available on the web. They even have been broadcast on cable-television shows for a science series at one point. SE: (continues) What I have done is take the results of several imaging techniques, MRIs which are very detailed, more than I needed, ultrasound and x-rays of course and several others, combined these in a computer matrix so that there was one unified image of two people. I used real persons and each piece of art is that couple, amalgamated to the holographic representations of their bodies. JR: So it is like looking at an . . not actually an outline, but a three dimensional representation of their body. And they are having sex. SE: Yes. Rather, call it making love, and I use that term for good reason. JR: Why depict sex or making love as you put it? SE: Well you could have the same process applied to viewing car engines, as some animations have done well in providing that sort of prospective. Or see a bird hop in and out its bird house, like a hidden camera, or people French kissing. But having them make love, not just sex, is fascinating to everyone, though of course the viewing is supposed to be limited to persons of legal age, which I might point out varies internationally. JR: That is part of the controversy that plagues your work and anywhere it is exhibited. SE: Listen, kids see dogs doing it in the yard now and then. They live in our modern world and know what sex is from an early age, because they notice there is a difference between boys and girls early on. But they don't get interested in making love until the hormones kick in. Primitive cultures, where there is scanty clothing and a different set of moral sensibilities have the same conditions as far as the difference between 'sex' and 'love making'. My art is dealing with love making, because sex is more mechanical and love making is an art. That is why there are so many elements added to the holographic 3-D depictions I produce. FRAN MALLORY HOPED that the grant which her son had gotten for his multi-imaging project would lead him to bigger and grander things than the Podunk town they lived in, the drab dwelling they inhabited. She wanted better for him than what she could provide. A small bit of luck and lots of sweat and clever thinking had gotten Ryan the money to pursue his dreams. The applications were many and the potential for doing valuable research, which could make breakthroughs and discoveries, important contributions to both science and manufacturing, were exciting. But the thing which seemed to turn her son on the most was what he might do creatively with the images in his computer and with the lasers. Ryan knew that the way to get the chance for what he really wanted to do, was to make the techniques which he utilized pay off, learn lucrative applications from the very expensive equipment that was loaned to him, find with the time spent on the fabulous machines at various facilities fruitful knowledge - simply put, learn with all those costly things useful ways to make money. Show commercial applications, do new work that got the medical establishment interested and supportive. The most excited and supportive person of all was his mom. Not just because she would shine by reflecting his glory, thus herself in a way becoming a luminary; but because she really did love him and wanted him to succeed at his dreams, as she had never been given any opportunity to do for herself. But he wanted all that so that not only could he lift them above this common mundane life, but give his mom the inner glow again she had had in her youth. Not that she didn't have a warmth and charm and vivaciousness that were so alluring, to even her son; she most certainly did. But if he was able to spark that bright arc once more, perhaps then the electricity which was generated might gap the generations and zap across to connect them in a circuit of sexual desire, a current of erotic passion that would unite them in a powerful coupling. He knew that his mom was what you would call a 'live wire' when it came to the bedroom, having heard her with the occasional casual acquaintance with "benefits". He hated those rare one night stands she accepted to just get fucked now and then. He would be happy to take the responsibility on himself, if she let him. But he knew that there would be resistance, just like with an electronic component. What he needed was a capacitor to build the voltage and - well he didn't know that much about physics, maybe that was the wrong way to put it. In any case, he wanted to 'socket' to his mom, put his plug in her outlet, hook up and become a dynamo by doing it together. He knew he could take the images from the different forms of waves; electromagnetic - sound - particle - whatever had been invented to peer into the workings of people and things; blend the gathered information into graphic displays that would provide new information that was not previously known. Like taking two polarized pieces of glass and turning them so that the view was suddenly clear not opaque. By cross referencing the multiple layers of the images within a matrix which the computer created, that was how he would make his mark. What he didn't know was how to set up the mattress matrix that would match his mater and himself so that they might mix it up and made love. Perhaps his success at his project would hold the means to that goal. After all, who could have guessed he would have gotten this far? Nor could anyone project what his secret ideas were, nor the advances he was making in his specialized field that he was doing in private. Not to be figuring out new science, or medical cures, or improvements for factories; but fantastical art of the most fascinating subject matter, fortification. But not just sex, there was plenty of that, too much of just sex. No he had other and much more majestic concepts to incorporate in his ultimate and intimate manifestations of mating. [Tape resumes after make-up repairs are done for Jack] JR: (looking down and consulting notes) Tell us what those elements are, that make your creations more than just the holographic 3-D equivalent of the fucking loops we see as ads on every porno site on the Internet? SE: Not time for incest questions yet? Keeping the smut for the last? Isn't that what the carnies, the folks who worked carnival acts, call the blow-off? Isn't the incest element really what you came to confirm and to raise your ratings, just like the cheap rag newspapers at the grocery stores? Never mind, that's a rhetorical question and we will get to the lurid details in due time. I'm just having fun with you. To answer your question about what raises my projects above the loops on the web. First they are interactive. The original holographic boxes had six sides so that the image of the pair of people I used as my models could be turned in any way, on any axis, view from any of the six sides in other words. SE: (continues) Nowadays it can be done from the computer controls and then viewed on a screen. The two-dimensional screen seems to display a three-dimensional image, which can be rotated to be viewed from any angle. By the way, CAD (computer assisted design) programing was useful in converting the holograms. That is what the publicly released works are. Computer sims. But with the computer, just like with the boxes in museums and with private collectors - which by the way are now worth not less than a million for any of them. JR: One went to the Japanese National Museum of Science and Culture for twenty-three million yen last month. SE: Good. You do your home work. Yes, that was the famous "Sexual Enterprise of the Perpetual Erection" an early one, but which had all of the essential elements that are now standard with any of my creations. Each is unique, with different people, different elements. JR: Getting back to those elements . . SE: which are interactive. You can change the flesh tones of the individuals, make her pink and him blue, or a variety of natural skin pigmentation. The transparency may be adjusted; her all but clear, him solid, both ghostly or anything in between. The musical background is variable, though not the original score which was composed for the specific work. However, you can vary the style of music and the volume and so forth. The sound of the couple as they are in the throes of ecstasy can be added or eliminated, volume up or softer; etc. SE: (continues) The tempo of the loop is variable, all these things controlled by the viewer or several viewers even. It's interesting to see two or three folks around a box and watch how each fiddles with the controls and the whole experience sort of engulfs them in a unified sharing of emotions and feedback with each other, not unlike that of sexual copulation itself in some ways. And this can be done with file sharing in real-time over the web as well. There might be endless things that could be variables to put with each art piece, on every work I create. I haven't run out of ideas. JR: But there are a limited number of positions the partners in your products are capable of, right? SE: While the art is in the showing, this isn't an artificial geometry, it is always real people doing the real thing as the basis for the original depiction, or as I called it in one of my collection of works, 3 D - D E P I X I O N Z of Our Sacred Act. JR: Where do you find the people willing to be your models, for such raw eroticism? Do you have standards? SE: I think that attractive people make for attractive art, but beauty of course is subjective, so my subjects are what I find sexy. Like my mother: she was real, and I found her real sexy too! THE MALLORY HOUSEHOLD had never been a strict environment, and while morals were not loose, neither were they constrictive. In fact, Fran believed that free thinking was more constructive, and narrow-mindedness was likely to be destructive of the creative spirit she wish to instill in her son, when she was raising Ryan. Thus perhaps what eventually happened was not out of character for neither son; nor his mother, who had mixed emotions when it came to the attraction she knew her son had for her. She could tell, as the youth grew to maturity, when he looked at her, that as he got older he lusted for her all the more. He was mouthwatering as well, she had to admit. But she never would have acted on any desires earlier. However, now that he was in his late-twenties and with a career that was obviously going to carry him far, the question of their mutual physical admiration was not on her mind. It was rather, how far, and in which direction, and what could she do, to support him - and maybe ride the coat-tails of her son's fame to something of her own apogee. She had always had a little dream that when she died, there would be a small paragraph in Time magazine noting her passing, some reason she would be remembered beyond the small circle of family and friends in the rural town. Some deed or act of noteworthiness, that gave her a glory in this world, even if she had passed to the next. Ryan was as aware of this aspect of his mother, as he was of the softness of her breasts when they hugged, or the thrill of lips on lips her kisses gave him when she permitted such, instead of the cheek-peck she so oft made or expected when turning her head. Just as Fran was conscious of her son's boner pressed to her abdomen. She felt it was a compliment, even if she was also amused by it. She knew those type of hugs and kisses were more physically close and a mite more stimulating that a normal maternal embrace and smooch would generally be. She allowed them, nonetheless. She understood that he had his foibles, as she had her fantasies; but that didn't mean she was going to allow any fooling around. Nor did she really ever believe that she might possibly be memorialized beyond the community they lived in. Then came the start of the controversy and the opening booms of notoriety: the boon of publicity and the bang of opportunity pounding on the front door. Ryan's first set of art works, using the very expensive and publicly funded (government grant) equipment, and time on the machines, monies and hours which were supposed to be for serious purposes, not pornography! NOT for seeing people fucking in 3D. Not for showing to any and all adults who could pay for a ticket to the gallery. But they sold privately. OH! How they SOLD!! The Mallorys moved to Chicago, then to L.A. Ryan changed his name to further create the image of the Avant Guarde artiste. And yet Fran was still in the background. Not hidden, but out of sight, since no one was looking in her direction. Then one day, there was no knock on the front door of his studio. His models - the couple who were to star in a new series - failed to show up. This next set of works took the concept to a new level; with elements of music and interactive control, the whole of the genre brought to full flower; and there sat this expensive equipment, rented and sitting idle. You think that a movie crew is expensive to have them waiting hours for the hung-over star to arrive, or weather to clear or whatever was the delay, so that filming might roll? This was way worse, because the temperamental artist who was the paying the bill himself was frustrated. FRUSTRATED in capital letters. 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. 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!