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Ok then, here it is. For those that have been following my blossoming lust for my mother, this is what you have been waiting for. Well at least a lot of you have told me in the comments and e-mails I have received, that you have been eagerly awaiting this. At last I am writing about it, telling you all about it, pouring my heart out about how I sucked my mother’s tits.
If you have read the previous parts, you will know the score, so you can skip the rest of the intro and go straight to the action. If you haven’t read them, I would strongly suggest you do. You see the accounts flow naturally and are intrinsically linked. In most parts, and particularly in this one where my mother features strongly, I refer back to what has happened in previous parts, so they should be read in the sequence I wrote them.
Nevertheless, whatever way you do read them, I hope you enjoy them and get as much pleasure and excitement from reading them as I do from writing them.
Please feel free to leave whatever comments you wish or e-mail me if you prefer.
I had thought about it so much over the past few months. It was something that had begun to consume my mind. It had become an obsession, a desire, a fantasy, a want and a need. And now I was about to satisfy that need. Yes I was about to suck my mother’s luscious, big tits!
Colin, my mum’s “friend”, had taken the photos for the Berlin Erotic Arts Festival. The portfolio of nineteen shots was entitled, rather naffly I thought, Mother and Child Reunion. It was made up of shots of mum and me naked. He had explained that the final pose was not a photo. Instead, at the festival, she and I would pose in real life. Real life, naked and making love. When he had shown us the nineteen photos and had explained about the twentieth my entire mind and body froze. “Had he read my mind?” I wondered. How I contained myself after he had shown us the photos and had explained what he wanted, I just don’t know?
He had printed the exposures onto strips white material that were about six feet high. It was amazing to look at pictures of my lips and pussy or of mum’s nipples and breasts in such huge sizes. He had cut each image into three vertical strips and these he had hung on pink, wooden frames. The frames were arranged in a decreasing circle, like a corkscrew. The judges would walk up to each shot and then step through them moving towards the centre of the circle. Colin explained that when they had stepped through the nineteenth shot they would be in the middle of a circle. They would be surrounded by the other frames with the space in the middle completely secluded with one pink frame lying on the floor. It was there that mum and I would be posing.
We were at his studio, a large Victorian house in north London. He had converted the basement into a display room for his work and it was down there where he had laid out the frames.
“They will be spaced out more at the festival, but this will give you both a general idea,” he explained.
Mum and I were in silk dressing gowns we had brought with us. These old Victorian piles can be very chilly and we had both had several sessions at the studio so, for what we had thought would be the final photographic work, we had arrived well prepared for sitting around feeling chilly.
Colin had asked us to undress just as if it was going to be another shooting session.
“When you are ready ladies, I’ll be in the cellar, not the studio, so just come on down, Ok?
He met us at the foot of the cellar stairs and “walked” us through the photos. To say we were amazed is a massive understatement. Each shot had parts of mum or me in them, mostly the two of us together but a few just her and some just me. There were two features to the exhibition; mother and daughter and the colour pink, and one style, our nudity. Hence, it was our “pink bits”, lips, tongue, nipples and of course our pussy lips, that were the focus.
As we walked through the photos I seemed to be surrounded by my mother. Not only was she beside me, her silk robe slipping at times exposing her boobs and legs, but everywhere I looked in the photos she was there. Her lips and my nipples, her pink painted fingernails and my pussy lips, my tongue and her breasts and of course my mouth and her pussy. The most incredible aspect to the portfolio of shots was that we had not posed together for any of them. Every shot had been taken of us alone and Colin had, as he put it, cut and pasted them together.
“It will be the ultimate in erotica, lesbian incest,” he’d told us when he explained that the only time we would really be together would be in pose twenty, lying on the silk sheet on the floor in a variety of poses in the middle of the other photos.
“The judges will go apeshit for it,” he had forecast.
The term had hit me hard when he had first said it; lesbian incest.
At home that night, I couldn’t help smiling wryly as I undressed for bed bursa escort bayanlar in the room just across the landing from my mother’s bedroom.
“So in addition to nude glamour model and near hooker I can also be termed a lesbian and an “incestor”, I thought, making up that word wondering what the correct term is for someone who indulges in incest.
I knew I wasn’t really a lesbian, well I thought I wasn’t, but you never know do you? Equally I didn’t think I was a typical “incestor”, certainly not in the more popular way of father daughter, but then my yearning for sex with my mother was so strong, I had to wonder.
I often did look back and ponder on how I developed my attitudes towards sex.
I didn’t have a huge appetite or a strong sex drive. I could go weeks without any sexual encounters at all. And during such “dry” periods I rarely felt the urge to masturbate. I did, of course, occasionally have sex with myself and I had to admit, that when I did, it was more often a girl that featured in my wankfest than men.
Although to my thinking I was not a lesbian I readily admit to myself that I am bi. Always have been I think, when I look back. But then what’s bi and aren’t most of us if we are really honest with ourselves? And I include men in that sweeping statement, but accept that it’s more a girly thing. After all, we are lovelier aren’t we? We are prettier, softer, more gentle, have a better shape and really are all round more adept at sex.
Many of my friends that I have known from school and uni and who I have met at Stage College have indulged, played around or have dallied with other girls. It’s hard, impossible probably, to go to a club and not see at least two girls snogging or groping each other and more dancing together in the most provocative of ways.
I started as I was leaving school, accelerated doing my time at uni, took a break when I left and have taken it up more fully now I’m studying stage and film production and am working as photographic model.
My first real experience was with the school sports teacher. Although she was only a few of years older than me, she seemed so much more grown up, mature and worldly wise. She was also beautiful with long dark hair, a gorgeously slim figure and wonderfully long, lithe legs that, as my grandma would have said, “went right up to her bum.” And that was also something special. I had never really ogled a girl before. But when I saw Chrissy in a swimsuit for the first time and looked at how the thin material of her bathing suit clung to the two perfectly shaped cheeks of her pert bum, I almost swooned with sexual emotion.
That started my crush on her. At first it was all rather innocent with my thoughts more concerned with being friends with this beautiful and popular star of the all girls private school. That changed though and soon as my juvenile thoughts turned towards sex. I couldn’t count the number of times I imagined myself lying naked in Chrissy’s arms.
She was friendly towards us younger girls and I started to have quite a lot to do with her in the summer term when I was eighteen and was leaving in the July. I was a fairly good player and had to play against her in the staff pupils tennis match. I beat her 4 and 3, I remember. The kiss she planted on my cheek and the gentle touch of her hand on my hip, quite near my bottom, as we came off the court, were like magic. I was sure she was feeling the same, but she never admitted that and nothing more happened between us.
Stephanie Gordon was my first female lover, my initial bi experience and my first lesbian fuck. She was also my second third and countless other lesbian fucks. I had an affair with her at uni that lasted several months, but finished when I left mid way through my second year. We still meet from time to time and sometimes have sex, not always, for in addition to being lovers we are also great mates and sex between mates can be messy; it can, of course, also be great as it usually was and is between Steph and me.
Since uni I have been with several women, four to be precise. And now standing looking at the nude photos with Colin explaining what he wanted us to do, I realised that my mother was going to be the fifth!
Colin explained that at the festival the first day would be the judging and that we would need to pose for about an hour. The next day would be a public day and we would need to pose for 10 minutes or so each hour.
“I want you to be in each other’s arms all the time. Mainly I want your mouth, Sammi, near Amanda’s nipples. The implication has to be of a mother about to suckle her child, only the child is also a woman and the pair of them are lovers.”
“Bloody hell,” mum breathed, looking at me. “Are you ok with that Samantha?”
Looking right at her I replied. “Yes mum, if you are.”
She smiled back, a little nervously I thought wondering if she had any lesbian feelings towards me at all. Do mothers bayan sarisin escort bursa have such thoughts about their daughters? Mothers and sons yes, but daughters, I’d never heard of it?
“Well, all in the cause of art,” she said brightly adding. “And the winnings of course.”
“Ok then lets just try a few poses,” Colin suggested. “We won’t be too prescriptive for I think a degree of improvisation and spontaneity will impress the judges.”
Knowing that soon I would be touching her ripe body and luscious tits I shuddered with desire as mum followed Colin’s instruction.
“Ok ladies, robes off please.”
During the photo sessions we had done together I had now seen my mother naked several times. I was surrounded by pictures of her; of her body, her breasts, her nipples and her pussy. I had seen her swim topless and I had been in bed with her when she was wearing just a sleeping top, unbuttoned to the waist. So, I had seen all she has, every bit, every curve, mound and indentation many times. But I was not prepared for the surge of desire that hit me when she casually untied the belt and slipped the dressing gown off.
Her long chestnut hair was tumbling onto her broad shoulders, her eyes seemed to be sparkling and her lips were parted. Her figure was a little heavier than mine, but then she is forty something and had given birth. There was a little extra on her hips and her thighs, like mine were a tad sturdier than either of us liked. Overall, though, she had a body that any woman would be proud of and many would kill for. She was curvaceous. Full hips, a narrow waist and, of course, her wondrous tits. They were full and rounded, as firm as could be expected and were capped by prominent nipples and large aureolae. They seemed almost to defy gravity for, despite their size, they looked firm and pert. Firm and pert, full and delicious and so fucking suckable I felt weak at the knees as I undid the tie on my robe.
With my mother’s and the photographer’s eyes on me I slid the robe off and stood before them naked. Incongruously, considering he had taken close up shots of every part of me, I felt embarrassed when I saw Colin staring at my nudity.
Being that I was about at least to make pretend love to my mother it was odd that my mind was on other things.
It was on when Steph first seduced me. It was in my brand new MINI that she first kissed me, that she first touched me, that she first cupped my breast and that she first slid her hand up my jean-covered thighs. It was in a hotel room she had booked because neither of us could be assured of the necessary privacy in our student flats that we first made love. It was there that she so wonderfully, so satisfyingly and so magically took my lesbian virginity. It was in my MINI and that hotel room that over the next few weeks she taught me so much.
For sure, since going to university, I had kissed, touched and been touched by a few girls. It was fashionable, brave, adventurous, it showed your independence and feminism and nearly everyone seemed to be “at it.” And sure too I had been with a few guys, nothing heavy, nothing serious and certainly nothing lasting.
None though had given me the level of orgasm that Steph did. And she did that with her fingers at first but then on our second “date” incredibly with her tongue. The first time a female has another woman go down on her is so special. For me it was amazing. She made me cum and cum and cum and cum.
For a few months we were inseparable. We didn’t “come out” or anything like that and I doubt if anyone in our university world knew or even suspected that after hours we were having an incredibly passionate lesbian love affair. It didn’t matter. We didn’t care, all we were really interested in was each other. In our ways, I suppose we were in love. But it was not a spiritual love, not an exclusive love for both of us went with other men, we even told each other about sex with them when we were in bed. It was a sexual love. An adoration of the other’s body, a respect for what the other did to us and a desire to give everything we had.
During those crazy few months, I gave Stephanie Gordon my all. She took everything I had and gave back her entire sexual portfolio. If I had searched for the perfect teacher, looked for the ideal induction or scoured the net for the ultimate instructor, I could not have done better than her.
As I stared at my mother’s voluptuous, yet slender body, my mind flittered onto my other lesbian encounters.
The way that Sandra, the studio owner who had given me my first break in photographic modelling, had seduced me. The way she had used me and the way she introduced me to the rougher side of girl to girl sex.
I recalled her photographing me to teach me how to pose and to then sitting next to her naked as she ran the photos through her PC. It was incredible to then see myself on a forty two inch plasma. To see the various shots bayan esmer escort bursa that Sandra had taken, to watch her focus in on my breasts, my nipples and between my legs. To watch myself as she looked at my photos just as she had looked at me through her lens. To see her looking at my nakedness as I looked at it and as her hands started to investigate it. To see me taking up the poses that she directed as slowly my body gave into the hands that were roaming over it. And to then be in her bed, with her making the most energetic love to me that I had ever experienced. I just knew it would not be like that with my mum!
I took the hand that my mother extended to me. I held it and followed her as Colin led us to the very centre of where the framed photos were arranged.
As mum and I stood there facing each other our chests were pumping slightly, showing that we were both feeling the pressure and breathing more heavily than usual. There seemed to be, although there couldn’t really be, a deafening silence in the cellar. The atmosphere was heavy, the mood, I felt, was laden with sexual expectations. I think that we were all anticipating what was soon to happen with a nervous expectancy. It was something that had been building up in a variety of ways for several weeks during the shooting, although for me it was more like six months. And now we were there, the time had arrived, the scene was set, the characters were there, the director was ready, mum and I were naked and we were about, at the very least to have simulated sex.
Colin’s voice seemed tight and a little hoarse when he said, quietly.
“Can you both lie down please?”
As we sank to the floor I could feel myself shaking, my heart was pounding and my pulses were racing. I felt worried, aroused, excited, guilty, frustrated and so expectant.
“Lay on your back Amanda, keep your legs closed, put one ankle over the other,” I heard Colin saying as if from miles away.
I watched mum lie down her full boobs slipping slightly to the sides as she lay on her back.
“OK Sammi now turn your face to the side and lay that half on Amanda’s right boob and half in her cleavage.
“Oh God,” I thought realising the moment was at last here.
The feel of the smooth skin and the soft flesh of her breast on my face was marvellous. She was cool and there was a slight throb, her heartbeat, I assumed. I drew my legs up so I was in almost a foetal position. My knees touched the outside of her thigh.
It sounded as if Colin was talking through one of those old fashioned megaphones, as if he was far away as if he was having difficulty speaking when he said.
“Bring your right hand up Sammi, hold her boob.”
“The one with my head on?”
“No silly, the other one, cup that for me.”
I’m sure mum’s body jumped when I touched it. I know my heart started to pound wildly when I held her left boob.
I had, of course, touched and caressed a woman’s breasts before, many times in fact. It’s always a wonderful feeling, even when they have been “surgically enhanced”. Mum’s hadn’t, though, and they felt fabulous. I was, though, feeling unsure, a little shy, full guilt and trepidation. After all I had no idea at all what she was feeling and not once had she given any sign that she had any incestuous thoughts about me.
Colin got us to take up a few more poses, nothing extreme, but all highly suggestive. My fingers on her thighs, her face on my tummy, her breast on my bottom and my lips near her nipple and stuff like that, before he said.
“Ok let’s leave it now, don’t let’s rehearse too much.”
As we both stood up he went on.
“You’ve got the idea of what I think will work, but being women you both probably know better than me.”
“Do we now?” mum said, running her hand up and down my arm sending shivers through me. She added. “With men perhaps.”
Colin smiled. “Well that’s not what you told me, oh shit, sorry Mands.”
He looked very contrite when he stared at me, clearly realising he had broken a confidence. More than that, he was probably thinking, he had told a daughter that her mother had been with other women. Mum, as usual, took it in her stride.
“That was in a silly moment, Colin, you must have got it wrong, anyway we all know what the nineties were like, real decadence. Pay no attention to him Sam.”
I tried to lighten the situation, but probably failed, for the wisecrack I was trying to make came out totally different to what I intended. Smiling I replied.
“Well I can see where I get it from then can’t I?”
They both looked at me realising that I was admitting to being bi, although I hadn’t meant that at all. Wisely, nothing more was said, either about my admission or mum and Colin’s, probably, pillow talk.
“I want it to be spontaneous in front of the judges.”
“Ok so we won’t practice between now and Thursday then?” Mum said enquiringly, her hand I realised still on my arm.
Colin looked from her to me and back again several times before saying very thickly.
“No best not to unless I’m there to join in.”
Mum smiled and looked at me. She raised her eyebrows and glanced back at Colin.
“Oooooo,” she said quietly. Is that an invitation Colin, or a request.”
He looked very embarrassed when he realised his gaff.
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