Hi
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.
Chapter 1
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.
Chapter 2
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 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.
