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Introduction:

Money buys memories of mommy, the method and madness
THE MOMMY DREAMS CASE FILE
Money buys memories of mommy, the method and madness

by Oediplex 8==3


“That would be totally unethical!” said the psychiatrist before me, behind his large oak wood desk. “I could be banned from practice. I would be shamed in the eyes of my colleagues, shunned by the whole world, if I did such a thing!”

“If it came out, yes, I'm sure that would happen. But this will remain secret; neither of us would want anyone to know. Least of all me, consider my position, if this were to become public. But it won't.”

“I'm afraid that I won't be a party to such an abuse of ethics, nor would any reputable professional in the field.”

“Doctor, you have a great deal of debt. Don't bother to deny it; I have had you thoroughly investigated. I cannot only cancel those IOU’s, but see to it that you will never have another financial worry again.
Additionally, I’ll throw in a little something extra – not to blackmail you but, rather, to sweeten the deal, as it were. I’m aware of an incident that occurred lst year, in Vegas. It seems that a certain indiscretion on your part has imperiled your family life. That is, if the ‘lady’ in question should carry out her threats. Accept my proposal, and that whole thing would go away, permanently.”

“Wha . . . What would you do, have . . . her killed? I know you’re a powerful man, with all sorts of connections, but I wouldn't want that on my conscience. No matter what she tries to do. She is blackmailing me, but even that doesn't deserve murder.”

“No, doctor,” I chuckled. “Don’t worry about that. She won’t be killed. When one has the sort of massive wealth I have, one simply pays more than the blackmailer could ever use, and sends them to somewhere they will be happy to live. The only threat and string attached is that the blackmailer would lose the sweet life if he or she reneged. Such a solution is quite easily arranged with a trust, and payoff funds only come out of the interest of an investment; the principle is never touched. It costs very little, really, in the scheme of things. On the other hand, you, yourself, become rich outright with my gift; and perhaps we set up a clinic to keep you happy, too, doing what you love. I get what I want – everybody wins. What could be better? Since there are no time machines available, I will have to settle for your skills to accomplish my scheme.”

“Your dream of having sexual intercourse with your mother.”

“Yes.” I responded.

“Your mother who died when you were twenty. You're now sixty.”

“And I have had an Oedipus Complex for over forty-five of those long years. However, I now am finally in a position to rewrite history, in my head, at least. I intend to do it with your help, as you are the best in the field of recovered memories.”

“But, you don't have any memories of having sex with your mother. You said you were absolutely certain that nothing untoward ever happened between the two of you. Is that not what you told me about… thirty minutes ago, when you explained what you were asking me to treat you for, I mean to help you deal with, uh-mmh. That is to say . . .”

“Yes doctor, that is correct. It is a bit awkward to express a case where you implant false memories on purpose, but that is what I purpose. I want you to create the retrograde images so clearly, that they were as if yesterday, of my mother and I having sexual relations. We know that has been done to some women, with the labors of unethical quacks who gave them fictitious histories of mistreatment that never truly occurred. They thought their fathers abused them, but it never happened and it was proven to be implanted memories, entirely false. In this case, I want you do the same, to me, about my mother and myself. Only, you and I shall both know those remembrances will be artificial. There will be no one harmed and no lawsuit. Perfectly legal with waivers and all the paperwork protection you could ever need. Complete confidentiality for me, for us both. What do you say? Have I made you a deal you can't refuse?”

“It's madness. Sheer Faustian! A deal with the devil. . .”

“I'm not the devil, nor am I crazy. But, playing mad scientist, it has a seductive lure, does it not? Only those with a touch of genius can see wild ideas for the opportunities they might actually become, as innovative advancements in their field of science. I believe you are such a man. And I can protect you from the harm of your current potential private humiliation, due to your own past injudiciousness which jeopardizes you presently. I can also insure against future negative publicity which would otherwise be professional suicide, should word of our…escapade escape. Wouldn't you like to try to create something that might be a tool for healing? Dare to be great, Dr.! Or else this Jezebel of a woman will bring you down. You will find yourself isolated from everyone and everything you have loved, impoverished and alone. It is your choice.”

“That is a vague threat, you are making, is it not?”

“Let us call it…the ‘Vegas’ of threats. But really, I need not pressure you, good doctor.; quite the contrary, I stand ready to relieve the pressure which has already menaced your marriage and endangered your reputation. I offer an irresistible incentive and unparalleled chance to experiment with a willing subject, not an innocent victim of malpractice. If inoculation was confirmed as effective by the test of infection, then this is similar in repairing broken brains.”

“No, no . . . not for a million dollars.”

“Eighteen.”

“Eighteen?”

“Yes, eighteen million dollars. The same age I will be, when I first seduced my mother, in the manufactured memories you will be instrumental in helping to construct.”

“Wouldn't if just be easier and cheaper to hire a beautiful woman who resembled your mother, and act out a fantasy role-playing scene with her? Surely, you could find someone who would fit the type and, for even a fraction of that money, be happy to be your mommy?”

“I have. It's not the same, no matter what, they're never my mom. There was only one of mother; she was both unique, as well as incomparable. AND, I want the memory of doing it when I was a teen. Eighteen . . . million, doctor.”

“It will take months, many sessions, meeting several times a week.”

“That is to be expected; it will not be a problem. How about a new suite of offices, in a swankier building, with posh furniture? That way, we can have a comfortable setting and insure your private work remains so?”

“Well, I have admired the Swinsall Building which they recently renovated.”

And I knew the Dr. was on board for my adventure into incest!

* * * * * * * *

The multi-billionaire, who was once more a boy of eighteen again in his head, gazed fondly at his beautiful mother. She was a stunning woman of movie star looks and with a Playmate centerfold body. She was a bit aged, it was true, but in a maturing fashion that only increased her attractiveness for the infatuated son that fawned over her. The benefits of future wealth were years ahead, she would die before his spectacular rise to riches happened. Today they enjoyed the relative luxury of a small above ground pool in their backyard, which provided their only relief from a heat wave. The air-conditioner needed repair, and money was not available for that, currently.

This remarkable woman was raising her son by herself. The father had simply vanished, a handsome rogue with neither roots nor sense of responsibility for his family, never to be seen or heard from again. They were not that sorry to be rid of the rotter. She did well enough with modeling for some catalogs, local television ads, occasional collage art class nude posing, and the rare but more lucrative 'art' photos for men's calendars seen in auto-mechanic garages across the county. She was no prude; in fact she was proud of her body, gift of God to male eyes everywhere. This included home and the man-child whom she knew peeked at her physique when he thought she wasn't aware of his growing curiosity. She was though, and it amused and pleased her and even had a little titillating effect on her libido for reasons she never bothered to analyze.

Perhaps it was that he combined the brawn and well-favored features of his father, with the more sensitive nature she sought to instill within his spirit. His winsome charm and easy going character, along with a wicked sense of humor, made him irresistible to one and all, but especially women, even his mom. So the interaction of these two charismatic creatures and the interplay of their magnetic personalities were as the mother-earth and orbiting satellite: he mooning about her and thinking biological thoughts in relation to his mom, she feeling the tides of desire, aware of the gravity of falling for those waves of lust that could cause a sea of trouble, if allowed to erode the breakwaters of propriety. The pool was cool, but the heat in the backyard was from more that the sun, it was from her son too.

The high fence gave them the kind of privacy they needed to dip with the maximum of skin exposed to the brilliant light, but her bright son had created an awning for shade to protect from the damaging rays. She saw no harm in his seeing her in the tiny bikini she wore, and his thong was just enough cover to be decent. Lush palms and plenty of bushes and flowers were cultivated in the small enclosure that was their backyard; they were in their own Garden of Eden. She was an Eve with no Adam, and he was a Cain who was able to be tempting on his own; fruit of her womb, at his loins hid a snake. And so the origin of their sin was set, the immortal moral dilemma made more original for the fact that it was the mental creation of a sixty year old man who wanted sex with his mom.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

I became aware, not like waking slowly from a dream, but with a momentary sense of disorientation none the less. I was on the recliner chair I had furnished for the doctor’s new digs. He was in an easy chair slightly to the side, facing me, about five feet away. It had taken us six months of bi-weekly sessions to progress this far in my regression. Gradually, we had reconstructed the home environs and the complex circumstances of my relationship with my mother. The dynamics of the sexual tensions between her and me had been layered over that. The timing and conditions that were needed to provide the preparations for my opportunity to proposition my mom had been the step we had worked on today.

“Where do we go from here, doctor?” I addressed my therapist. “Am I going to put suntan lotion on mom, and get to feel her up? Will we shed our skimpy suits and skinny dip? Does she get sunburned, and need me to slather her body in balm? Or, do we hop in the shower together to rinse off the sweat and wind up lathering more that the soap? What do you think the next step of my seduction will be?”

“Since this is the product of your vivid imagination and lascivious ego I have no idea. When you are under hypnosis, I am only a guide to channel where you want to lead your lusting desires, as they devise how to get in your mother's pants and screw her. It would certainly seem that any one of those ideas or perhaps a combination of two or more might be woven to make the fabric of your dream be realized as implanted memory. Let your subconscious work for a few days on being creative, before we venture into the area of actual contact between you two. We are almost done with our three hour appointment anyway. Why don't you come back in, say four days, our regular time in the morning, when hormones levels are highest, and see what we develop as a strategy?”

“Have you heard from your Vegas vixen?”

“Not a bitchy bark, not a whimper or yelp, no begging for another bone.”

“Nor will you, she has gone to paradise – on a long plane trip to a tropical destination, I mean. She needed no muzzle, not when her mouth was so full of all the ambrosia her new-found money could buy.”

“Paradise. . . ambrosia – food of the gods. . . Eden. I'm sensing a theme to your thinking.”

“Doctor, you are getting me the only reward in this world – or the next - that I crave: the promised land that lies between my mommy's thighs. Of course I am fantasizing in symbolic imagery of heavenly places. The Shangra-La of my mother's womb is my ultimate Nirvana!”

“What if it turns out to be hell instead, psychologically it's just as likely an outcome; or cum, if you will, you know.”

“Styx and stones . . . Dante described the underworld as a series of circles, the Greek Hades had Tantalus. If I… no, when I make love to my mother, albeit in my mind and memories, then my infatuation and frustration will have ended. That is the end of torture, the release from torment, the freeing of my psyche from the damnation I have suffered in this existence, the very liberation of my incarnation, the transcendence of my soul. I will have come full circle when I cum in the cunt of my goddess and we become one – completing our unity of being.”

“If the Divinity is defined as love, then you're saying the love you share with your mother is sacred, the carnal pleasures are but the physical manifestation of the melding of your minds and binding of your hearts to one another, the true communion of spirits. Like the yin and yang, male and female forming the eternal pinwheel. Thus, this ravishing of your own Madonna is the 'Rapture', both bodily and mentally, for your life, the end of all you have hoped for, longed for, lived for.”

“Wow! Doctor, you do understand!”

“No, I took a course in comparative religions in college. The professor liked a lot of bullshit in the papers we wrote for the class. I was good at it, got an A. What I do understand is simply that you've always had a 'jones' for your mom's pussy. Time's up, see you next Tuesday at nine!”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

I guess getting there is more than half the fun. I never expected my mother to reject my advances. I discovered that even in my imagination, the fact that it was all happening inside my head, while it was my brain that contained the memories, mother still had a mind of her own. I guess it wouldn't be seduction without her being reluctant to fool around with her prodigy. She was always a responsible parent and, while playful, still had boundaries and barriers that barred my baring her charms easily, and I had to bear with the naked truth that full nudity was not something that she felt comfortable with altogether. To get her to be 'in the altogether' took a clever trick. Doc and I worked on that for the next month. However, for my dreams, the passing of this was but an instant. I picked up on that hot afternoon and heated up the situation to a sizzling, simmering summer night.

* * * * * * * *

Twilight brought no respite from the soaring temperatures and high humidity. They now spent almost the whole time immersed in the pool, like the famous photo of the monkeys in the warm springs to avoid the cold of winter, so in reverse the pair plunged in and only had their heads above the rippling waterline. Half floating they crouched, then used an aluminum lawn chair to sit on. Both of them, as there was only the one, the lounger was cedar. In a reversal of earlier times, mother sat on sonny's lap, somewhat crosswise, his manly chest hairs brushing her back like little seaweed. They achieved equilibrium and rested for several minute in that position. They chatted about nothing, but something else was on their minds.

Her bottom was hardly covered by the thin fabric of her scanty panties. His thing was protruding and prominent in the pocket of his thong. The oblong bulge didn't belong between her buns, but it was. There was no denying the effect she was having on his penis, at least she was wet and that was camouflage for her wetness. She couldn't help being stimulated by the manhood under her behind. Her womanhood was having a delightful time getting dicked by the prick that had been princely parading, while her son sunned. She had been a bit of a primping princess too, adjusting the strings of her few scandalous triangular pieces that covered only the two most vital points and one low fuzzy patch and her dainty derri?.

Those points now were quite erect, the labia nearly engulfed the front material and her derri? was all but lap-dancing on his hard-on. Well, she thought, what did she expect with an eighteen year old whose hormones were at their height of masculine prime? Or the 'whore-moans', of a woman too long without getting any? She moaned, and couldn't help wiggling her tush on his meat. He laid his head sideways on her shoulders and reached around her in a hug, but his hands sought to cup her breasts. She couldn't speak; it was too good, it was too naughty, she ought to object, she loved the excitement. The boy had made it safe to first base, but then the man made his move and the fingers slipped under the garment and slid over the hyper-sensitive tips. She slipped the shoulder strings down and he pulled the top to her waist.

His gentle mauling of mom's mams resumed. The chills that went thru her had nothing the do with cooling. He began to kiss her neck and shivers went up and down her spine. This was getting out of control, a flickering thought skimmed over her mind, but then he was taking charge and undoing the bows on the side of her hips which held the rest of her bikini together. Suddenly, both items of clothing was dragged off completely and floated away in the moonlight like a languid fish. Naked in his caressing arms and exposed to his exploring hands she was vulnerable, but she felt safe and loved in the muscular embrace. His cock was in contact with the center of her femininity, except for the cod piece covering the erect boner. A lift of his pelvis and that disappeared too, somewhere. His right hand lowered to pet at her juncture, a finger felt through the tangle of pubic fur and found the bud of her clit.

Now there was nothing separating their sexes. The water was slicking up the skin as penis and pussy wriggled around. His pole's polka was matched by her hiney's hula as their lap-dance beat to a bouncy tune. She shifted to more of a spoon-like connection and now the crack of her ass captured the rod that rolled over her rear. The thickness of his manhood pushed with urgency at the divide, seeking the grotto from which he had long ago emerged. Her legs spread a bit and the exploring digit dove to seek her slit. She was having a storm of lust rage in her head. An impulse to have a full frontal embrace encompassed her like an electrical charge that crackled all over her body. She jumped up and turned to face her son, the man who was driving her insane with desire. Mother held out her arms to her son, imploring in her look for him to hug her, hold her, squeeze her, gather her to him and make her his.

He came out of the chair and into the clench. His pride plowed into her abdomen, a massive missile of passion. Her pulchritude was pressed to his chest in a wonderful squash of female cushioning. Water sloshed as the soon to be lovers swirled and twisted and gyrated trying to get as much of their skin’s surface touching as possible. Legs entangled and arms swept up and down and around in wrestling motions, but loving clenches. With kisses they covered each other's faces in a frantic-ecstatic feeding frenzy. Loins were slithering to make a meeting of parts, but somehow never aligned to quite the right angle. It was soon apparent to both parent and son that their union would need to be on land if their groins were to couple, if they were going to copulate, if they were going to have coitus.

He lifted her up like a honeymooner and lofted her in one smooth motion over the side of the small swimming pool and set her down on her feet. Then swiftly, an athlete to his Athena, an Olympiad vaulting to Venus, he was up the little ladder and landing by her side. The lad again lifted his lady and headed for the house, made it to the master bedroom, moved to the mattress, and then he was on top, between her thighs, and his entrance of his mother but a moment away. She was ready, she was willing, she was open, and she was his. It had just happened. Nothing was planned, no discussion, no thinking; only feelings of overwhelming love and trust and desire had burst forth in her bosom for this fabulous son of hers, the man of the house, the male of her dreams. It was like a dream, a dream cum true, a fantasy coalesced into reality.

* * * * * * * *

“I'm afraid our time is up.”

“Oh! Sweet Jeez!!, Doc, why did you stop, I was just about to . . .”

“I know, but that is precisely the point. We have nearly reached the moment which you have striven for and worked at and wanted so bad. It is not to be done hastily. You want to remember it and you want it to be perfect, in your fornicating fantasy, in your made up memories, in your remembrances of rutting with your mother. Next week is time enough to complete the timeless seduction you will have and cherish until the day you die. We have taken over half a year to construct what is less than a day in your artificial fabrication of imagination. A few more days won't be interrupting the consanguine concupiscence.”

I looked at him incredulously. I never had such a raging hard-on in my life. Then I notice the good doctor was tenting in his own pants too. So Doc was getting nasty kicks out of my kink also!! “Damn it! Doc, you're enjoying this as well, aren't you? You don't have as much professional distance from the patient, as you had when we began this process. You’re getting off on my fantasy, too! Tell me, do you have a vision of my mom, or is it your own when you jerk off to the tapes of our sessions?”

He looked at me chagrined. Then he said in a shaky voice, “Sometimes . . . it . . . used to be yours, but lately I've begun to project the image of my own mommy into the narrative. I'm sorry, but I had to stop you before I came in my pants.”

“A clear case of reverse transference, I'd say!”

“Now who's playing the mental health specialist? Speak of role reversals!” Doc laughed.

“Well, do you have any other people with appointments at this moment?”

“I stopped having anyone come following your treatments. It's not as if I need the fees, thanks to your largesse. The rest of those days I spend on the Internet going to incest porn sites and looking for mother/son sex material and masturbating. You've done this to me, and now I can't stop. God! I've even invited my mother to come and visit while I'm sending my wife off to a spa. Mommy's not been with anybody other than dad, and he died over four years ago, she must be hot-to-trot by now. She's little heavy, but I don't care and I don't need to be a teen. Right now is fine with me, if I can have her sweet pussy fucking my long cock!”

“Well, that is some confession, and look who was converted from our therapy! I tell you what, Doc, let's get stripped, get out your Vaseline, lube up and put me back under. We both need to fuck our moms. I want to hear all about your adventure when you get to ball your own mother, but right now I can't wait to screw mine!”

We made the arrangements; towels from the wash room, tissue boxes, little packets of petroleum jelly from the first aid kit. We each got comfortable in our respective seats, dropped drawers and nodded to each other that the moment of break-through had come. It was time to bust the cherry. I was ready to ride to Valhalla and raring to go. Then he took out his pocket watch. I know it's a clich?but it worked. Once more I was back in bed with my mother, about to enter heaven.

* * * * * * * *

He could feel the lubrication of the lust lotion that seeped out of her love hole and coated her labia. It was far more copious than the pre-cum dripping from the end of his dick. But the mixture was making the entrance of the bulbous head of his boner a smooth and easy insinuation of flesh into flesh. The pulpy gates parted, pushed by the muscular battering ram which nosed into the cavity. The flash of the fantastic heat of her body enclosing the end of his penis was the start of the universe, the big bang moment, of existence out of the nothingness of cold void. As inch gradually followed sliding inch, the blade carefully thrust into belly – making the stabbing wound with its piercing, he went down his mother's womb.

In slow-motion, in mind's eye and with stop-motion emotional awareness, the penetration of maternal vagina was engraved upon his brain. Her encompassing love enclosed his probe and made it welcome in the most heart felt of homecomings for his hard-on. Her joy of taking her son back in was like a rebirth. She was fulfilled in the filling, fused with him in the fullness that found her emptiness and made it whole again; her hole was the haven of refuge she would never refuse to her boy. At last, that long journey to the center of earth-mother was made, as he had made his mommy his adventure, the culmination of the rejuvenation was accomplished. They were reunited in a way that had not been possible before. The two had dissolved into the primordial stew of primal lust and primitive emotions, brought to a boil and bubbled over in passion that splashed a psychic wet spot which soaked the very fabric of existential existence.

Then in rewind, instant replay in multitude, he stroked his cock into mom's cunt. Up it went to bump the nubs deep, out it withdrew but never losing contact - always at the exact angle of engagement to slide back into the soft home and hump her once more. And again, again the to and fro of churning her chute, shuttling the thick spindle of stiff meat; while the hairy sacks of sperm boinged on her butt. The charge in his flashlight of love grew; it was lightning wound in a spring coil of high energy, waiting to be unleashed in an electrical arc of lethal voltage. Her bell jar of lust was equally radiant with the fire of crackling, sparking flashes, a glittering glow of atomic potential spread from her loins, through out her entire body. The thundering crashes if their genitals clapping together drowned out all other things inside their heads.

The bed rocked, the earth moved, the universe shook, reality shimmered; he pounded her now, pinned her and pistoned his hammering penis in his mommy's manhole, plunging, plugging and pummeling. Her chamber accepted the violation of violence; of its own volition it opened the vault of her womanhood and welcomed the child as a man, the boy as big enough to take his father's place, to usurp the throne and be seated between her thighs as rightful king, cock of the roost. Gasping and groaning and grunting, their cries arose as the climax of hot action ascended. The pitch of whines and wails was climbing with the approach peak. Mother wrapped her arms around her demon lover, her legs lifted and heals spurred his haunches to hunch harder, his special spade to dig deeper. His upper limbs clamped beneath her shoulders to gain leverage, his feet plowed into the pad to push his torso as they mashed madly.

The ride went on. The rollicking romp of furious fucking was relished, every second of the sex a savored moment of pure joy, an ecstatic instant of sublime delight, distillation of the essence of ecstasy. Then they hit the apogee of intimacy as their orgasms triggered a chain reaction of fusion, the fission of friction had finally culminated in the climax of this intense incestuous union. Her paroxysm was matched by his spasms. As their organs were interlocked she felt his throbs and pulsing purges of sperm. He knew her cavity walls fluttered in response the gobs of jism that he ejaculated. The wash of spume finally sputtered to a stop, the tumescence lost it's turgid volume. Her feet unclenched, her grip on his body lessened, her mind had exploded with “le petite mort”, and now she lay under him as one dead. His panting and ragged breathing had been held in one final gasp of air and exhaled in a last long lingering sigh.

* * * * * * * *

The doctor opened his eyes after long minutes of recovery from his masturbatory orgasm which was simultaneous with the narration of his client's creative dream/ self-delusional memory/imagined tryst with his long passed mother. A dribble of white cream trickled down his gripping fingers around his now wimpy-wormy stump of a member, compared to the fine phallus of the fellow in the other chair, which also had spouted a rich and copious amount of goo. The psychiatrist took long, slow, deep venting inhalations to replenish the oxygen his lungs needed.

He looked into the the open eyes of his patron. His friend really, for surely with what they had shared all these months made them more than doctor and patient. But his buddy did not blink. DID NOT BLINK!! Was not breathing! The skin appeared gray, lips were bluish! MY GOD! He rushed over to the billionaire and could not find a pulse. He pulled him to the carpet and began CPR. But it was no use, the man was gone. Had it been a heart attack? Sudden stroke? An embolism, perhaps? The shrink had no idea. He managed to pull up his pants and then the corpse's before he called 911.

He was protected; there would be no legal repercussions. The rich son-of-a-bitch had insured that. No – she wasn't a bitch, she was a sweet loving, giving mother while she was living. Her ghost, such as her son had invoked/invented in his own head, was the paragon of femininity and the promiscuous promise made manifest in his incestuous incarnation of his mommy. That reminded the good doctor that his own mater was on her way to visit and be violated – if she was willing, of course. He was certain she would gladly be bedded by her devoted and loving son. So he hoped. If not, there was always self-hypnotism; the technique was developed. He could put what he had learned from the deceased at his feet to practical use. But had this manic man been damned by his demented obsession or blessed and saved by his achieving the transition from fantasy to realized dream?

There was a knock on his office door; the paramedics had arrived.

* * * * * * * *

But they were not through yet! He gathered his strength and helped his mother to sit up, then turn over to be on her hands and knees. Her gorgeous ass was presented to his view. The opening of her sex was glistening with their mutual secretions and presented the most erotic of targets. He plopped the semi-limp sausage of his satyric unsatisfied lust on the pillows of her hind end and sawed to raise the horn of porn that would be ramming in that raw maw of ma's in moments. Just the visual of pink folds and the carnal odors that wafted in the air were enough to stiffen his stopper. Boy popped mom in her vagina, son sunk his manhood into the woman of his dreams. He was in heaven, he took her to paradise, they gamboled in the garden of earthly delights and divine pleasures. Sinning with every stroke, each orgasm a prayer of praise to the physical joy of their union, every cum a happy reaffirmation of their bonding. Their lust was everlasting, their love lived eternally, their spirits were one soul unceasing. He could fuck his mother forever.

The end and endless none the less!


Coda cum copious

The good doctor, alone at last again in his inner sanctum, rewound and turned on the tape once more. He now sat naked and his ego was stripped bare, as he listened to the voice from beyond the grave, recount the vision of incest that had possessed his client's/patient's/friend's soul, haunted his living and taken his life.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The multi-billionaire, who was once more a boy of eighteen again in his head, gazed fondly at his beautiful mother. She was a stunning woman of movie star looks and with a Playmate centerfold body. She was a bit aged, it was true, but in a maturing fashion that only increased her attractiveness for the infatuated son that fawned over her. The benefits of future wealth were years ahead, she would die before his spectacular rise to riches happened. Today they enjoyed the relative luxury of a small above ground pool in their backyard, which provided their only relief from a heat wave. The air-conditioner needed repair, and money was not available for that, currently.

This remarkable woman was raising her son by herself. The father had simply vanished, a handsome rogue with neither roots nor sense of responsibility for his family, never to be seen or heard from again. They were not that sorry to be rid of the rotter. She did well enough with modeling for some catalogs, local television ads, occasional collage art class nude posing, and the rare but more lucrative 'art' photos for men's calendars seen in auto-mechanic garages across the county. She was no prude; in fact she was proud of her body, gift of God to male eyes everywhere. This included home and the man-child whom she knew peeked at her physique when he thought she wasn't aware of his growing curiosity. She was though, and it amused and pleased her and even had a little titillating effect on her libido for reasons she never bothered to analyze.

Perhaps it was that he combined the brawn and well-favored features of his father, with the more sensitive nature she sought to instill within his spirit. His winsome charm and easy going character, along with a wicked sense of humor, made him irresistible to one and all, but especially women, even his mom. So the interaction of these two charismatic creatures and the interplay of their magnetic personalities were as the mother-earth and orbiting satellite: he mooning about her and thinking biological thoughts in relation to his mom, she feeling the tides of desire, aware of the gravity of falling for those waves of lust that could cause a sea of trouble, if allowed to erode the breakwaters of propriety. The pool was cool, but the heat in the backyard was from more that the sun, it was from her son too.

The high fence gave them the kind of privacy they needed to dip with the maximum of skin exposed to the brilliant light, but her bright son had created an awning for shade to protect from the damaging rays. She saw no harm in his seeing her in the tiny bikini she wore, and his thong was just enough cover to be decent. Lush palms and plenty of bushes and flowers were cultivated in the small enclosure that was their backyard; they were in their own Garden of Eden. She was an Eve with no Adam, and he was a Cain who was able to be tempting on his own; fruit of her womb, at his loins hid a snake. And so the origin of their sin was set, the immortal moral dilemma made more original for the fact that it was the mental creation of a sixty year old man who wanted sex with his mom.

Twilight brought no respite from the soaring temperatures and high humidity. They now spent almost the whole time immersed in the pool, like the famous photo of the monkeys in the warm springs to avoid the cold of winter, so in reverse the pair plunged in and only had their heads above the rippling waterline. Half floating they crouched, then used an aluminum lawn chair to sit on. Both of them, as there was only the one, the lounger was cedar. In a reversal of earlier times, mother sat on sonny's lap, somewhat crosswise, his manly chest hairs brushing her back like little seaweed. They achieved equilibrium and rested for several minute in that position. They chatted about nothing, but something else was on their minds.

Her bottom was hardly covered by the thin fabric of her scanty panties. His thing was protruding and prominent in the pocket of his thong. The oblong bulge didn't belong between her buns, but it was. There was no denying the effect she was having on his penis, at least she was wet and that was camouflage for her wetness. She couldn't help being stimulated by the manhood under her behind. Her womanhood was having a delightful time getting dicked by the prick that had been princely parading, while her son sunned. She had been a bit of a primping princess too, adjusting the strings of her few scandalous triangular pieces that covered only the two most vital points and one low fuzzy patch and her dainty derri?.

Those points now were quite erect, the labia nearly engulfed the front material and her derri? was all but lap-dancing on his hard-on. Well, she thought, what did she expect with an eighteen year old whose hormones were at their height of masculine prime? Or the 'whore-moans', of a woman too long without getting any? She moaned, and couldn't help wiggling her tush on his meat. He laid his head sideways on her shoulders and reached around her in a hug, but his hands sought to cup her breasts. She couldn't speak; it was too good, it was too naughty, she ought to object, she loved the excitement. The boy had made it safe to first base, but then the man made his move and the fingers slipped under the garment and slid over the hyper-sensitive tips. She slipped the shoulder strings down and he pulled the top to her waist.

His gentle mauling of mom's mams resumed. The chills that went thru her had nothing the do with cooling. He began to kiss her neck and shivers went up and down her spine. This was getting out of control, a flickering thought skimmed over her mind, but then he was taking charge and undoing the bows on the side of her hips which held the rest of her bikini together. Suddenly, both items of clothing was dragged off completely and floated away in the moonlight like a languid fish. Naked in his caressing arms and exposed to his exploring hands she was vulnerable, but she felt safe and loved in the muscular embrace. His cock was in contact with the center of her femininity, except for the cod piece covering the erect boner. A lift of his pelvis and that disappeared too, somewhere. His right hand lowered to pet at her juncture, a finger felt through the tangle of pubic fur and found the bud of her clit.

Now there was nothing separating their sexes. The water was slicking up the skin as penis and pussy wriggled around. His pole's polka was matched by her hiney's hula as their lap-dance beat to a bouncy tune. She shifted to more of a spoon-like connection and now the crack of her ass captured the rod that rolled over her rear. The thickness of his manhood pushed with urgency at the divide, seeking the grotto from which he had long ago emerged. Her legs spread a bit and the exploring digit dove to seek her slit. She was having a storm of lust rage in her head. An impulse to have a full frontal embrace encompassed her like an electrical charge that crackled all over her body. She jumped up and turned to face her son, the man who was driving her insane with desire. Mother held out her arms to her son, imploring in her look for him to hug her, hold her, squeeze her, gather her to him and make her his.

He came out of the chair and into the clench. His pride plowed into her abdomen, a massive missile of passion. Her pulchritude was pressed to his chest in a wonderful squash of female cushioning. Water sloshed as the soon to be lovers swirled and twisted and gyrated trying to get as much of their skin’s surface touching as possible. Legs entangled and arms swept up and down and around in wrestling motions, but loving clenches. With kisses they covered each other's faces in a frantic-ecstatic feeding frenzy. Loins were slithering to make a meeting of parts, but somehow never aligned to quite the right angle. It was soon apparent to both parent and son that their union would need to be on land if their groins were to couple, if they were going to copulate, if they were going to have coitus.

He lifted her up like a honeymooner and lofted her in one smooth motion over the side of the small swimming pool and set her down on her feet. Then swiftly, an athlete to his Athena, an Olympiad vaulting to Venus, he was up the little ladder and landing by her side. The lad again lifted his lady and headed for the house, made it to the master bedroom, moved to the mattress, and then he was on top, between her thighs, and his entrance of his mother but a moment away. She was ready, she was willing, she was open, and she was his. It had just happened. Nothing was planned, no discussion, no thinking; only feelings of overwhelming love and trust and desire had burst forth in her bosom for this fabulous son of hers, the man of the house, the male of her dreams. It was like a dream, a dream cum true, a fantasy coalesced into reality.

He could feel the lubrication of the lust lotion that seeped out of her love hole and coated her labia. It was far more copious than the pre-cum dripping from the end of his dick. But the mixture was making the entrance of the bulbous head of his boner a smooth and easy insinuation of flesh into flesh. The pulpy gates parted, pushed by the muscular battering ram which nosed into the cavity. The flash of the fantastic heat of her body enclosing the end of his penis was the start of the universe, the big bang moment, of existence out of the nothingness of cold void. As inch gradually followed sliding inch, the blade carefully thrust into belly – making the stabbing wound with its piercing, he went down his mother's womb.

In slow-motion, in mind's eye and with stop-motion emotional awareness, the penetration of maternal vagina was engraved upon his brain. Her encompassing love enclosed his probe and made it welcome in the most heart felt of homecomings for his hard-on. Her joy of taking her son back in was like a rebirth. She was fulfilled in the filling, fused with him in the fullness that found her emptiness and made it whole again; her hole was the haven of refuge she would never refuse to her boy. At last, that long journey to the center of earth-mother was made, as he had made his mommy his adventure, the culmination of the rejuvenation was accomplished. They were reunited in a way that had not been possible before. The two had dissolved into the primordial stew of primal lust and primitive emotions, brought to a boil and bubbled over in passion that splashed a psychic wet spot which soaked the very fabric of existential existence.

Then in rewind, instant replay in multitude, he stroked his cock into mom's cunt. Up it went to bump the nubs deep, out it withdrew but never losing contact - always at the exact angle of engagement to slide back into the soft home and hump her once more. And again, again the to and fro of churning her chute, shuttling the thick spindle of stiff meat; while the hairy sacks of sperm boinged on her butt. The charge in his flashlight of love grew; it was lightning wound in a spring coil of high energy, waiting to be unleashed in an electrical arc of lethal voltage. Her bell jar of lust was equally radiant with the fire of crackling, sparking flashes, a glittering glow of atomic potential spread from her loins, through out her entire body. The thundering crashes if their genitals clapping together drowned out all other things inside their heads.

The bed rocked, the earth moved, the universe shook, reality shimmered; he pounded her now, pinned her and pistoned his hammering penis in his mommy's manhole, plunging, plugging and pummeling. Her chamber accepted the violation of violence; of its own volition it opened the vault of her womanhood and welcomed the child as a man, the boy as big enough to take his father's place, to usurp the throne and be seated between her thighs as rightful king, cock of the roost. Gasping and groaning and grunting, their cries arose as the climax of hot action ascended. The pitch of whines and wails was climbing with the approach peak. Mother wrapped her arms around her demon lover, her legs lifted and heals spurred his haunches to hunch harder, his special spade to dig deeper. His upper limbs clamped beneath her shoulders to gain leverage, his feet plowed into the pad to push his torso as they mashed madly.

The ride went on. The rollicking romp of furious fucking was relished, every second of the sex a savored moment of pure joy, an ecstatic instant of sublime delight, distillation of the essence of ecstasy. Then they hit the apogee of intimacy as their orgasms triggered a chain reaction of fusion, the fission of friction had finally culminated in the climax of this intense incestuous union. Her paroxysm was matched by his spasms. As their organs were interlocked she felt his throbs and pulsing purges of sperm. He knew her cavity walls fluttered in response the gobs of jism that he ejaculated. The wash of spume finally sputtered to a stop, the tumescence lost it's turgid volume. Her feet unclenched, her grip on his body lessened, her mind had exploded with “le petite mort”, and now she lay under him as one dead. His panting and ragged breathing had been held in one final gasp of air and exhaled in a last long lingering sigh.

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Wrote the po' wit, 'Quoth the Craven, “Evermore!”'
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