Before I lowered my lips to meet hers, I gazed at her. She was a dead ringer for that famous English actress from that popular night-time soap in the late 70s. Brunette shoulder-length hair, deep dark eyes and a body—the image of her sexy shape which was to revealed to me for the first time earlier on when her evening gown hit the floor—which would have women half her age envying for. Mom was 51 but her attitude, personality, charm and wit made her seem like a college graduate.
I pressed my lips to hers. It was not long before our mouths opened and our tongues were making love just like the rest of our bodies.
Besides our vocal approvals of this incestuous union, there were only two sounds in the room. First was the bed which, despite being in an expensive mid-town hotel in Manhattan, New York, was making the same sound made by a bed in an hourly motel. The other sound was the repeated slap of our bodies. My mother's love nectar had flowed like a mountain river. (The flowing had initially begun on the dance floor, increased when I ate her out here, and continued now that we were in the classic Missionary position.) My penis, testicles, and the bed sheet were drenched. I was ecstatic to be in this female downpour!
I released her lips from mine, moving my head backwards and up. "Ohhhhh," I exclaimed. Mom jackknifed me with her long sexy legs, pushing me deeper into her velvety, soaking pussy. Another electric shock went off in my head: I returned to the place where my life literally began.
Mom's breathing began to be labored, reminding me of the first summer I had developed asthma. "Oh, Paul. Ohhhhh. I'm coming!" Her bountiful breasts—easily 36s, I guessed—bounced against my chiseled chest, her hardened nipples often grazing me. I also got the mental message that I too was nearing orgasm. "Me, too, Mom," I whisperingly concurred. (I didn't think the guests next door would appreciate this being a taboo union.) We increased our body motions (and the bed's squeaking). We were now fucking. No longer was this like before: first, surprised at the unlikely attraction and then the romantic-like slow motions like her hand stroking my hardness or my tongue sliding up and down her heated slit. We were fucking, and fucking hard...like two wild animals. And like many animals, we were doing it incestuously. It wasn't just the fact that we both had been divorced sometime, our respective bodies yearning for sexual contact besides the often-done self-service. It wasn't also the need for an emotional connection with someone; this had been achieved during dinner earlier on. Now it was just raw, heated, animalistic fucking...by two people not supposed to connect this way. Mother and son...fucking.
"Yes! Yes! It's here!" she announced triumphantly. Her energized thrust into me and the volcanic eruption of her feminine juices—which already had an oceanic amount—told me that Mom was experiencing her orgasm. It was soon my turn to peak. I slammed my pole into her gushing geyser and I came...and came...and came. I could sense my lower region pumping my milk into Mom, similar to when I gassed up my Benz and I could feel the gas flowing in the hose. This sex felt sooooo good.
I grunted her name, Joan, remembering not to accidentally reveal who she was to me. The erotic transfer of my semen into my mother's cunt continued for a few more seconds, and then slowed down and stopped. I was not worried about pregnancy; she had her tubes tied years ago. I was happy to be "riding bareback." Our motions had also subsided and I collapsed onto her, after being in a push-up position for so long. Mass perspiration had encased our bodies. My head lay on her left shoulder. Our breathing was gradually returning to a normal rate.
I brought my lips up to her left ear and whispered, "You are a great fuck, Mom." She smiled at me and replied, "You too, baby." We kissed, long and hard. We then moved so that her head rested on my chest and my arms were wrapped around her. Our hearts beat as one. We stayed in this cuddling position for a bit, sleep overtaking her first. I looked through the window onto the midnight Manhattan skyline. I felt warm inside. I finally found the woman I wanted to spend my life with.
But how did all this happen? Wait til next the installment of Velvet.
