Masturbation with mom
- 2 years ago
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: Masturbation With Mom free porn video
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It became a little habit that we picked up: when there was nothing on TV at night, we sometimes offered to do a little pornography, as we would have offered a board game or a movie. Only our game, with mom, was much more fun. Each of us masturbated on his own, with even less embarrassment than the first time, without hesitating to take a look at what the other was doing and what conditions he was in. I could easily tell when my mom particularly liked a video of the speed of her hand on his penis, a hand she no longer hid, buried in her pants, no, now they were a little bit down, so I had a distant view of the tuft of my mother. She, she could easily say that I was enjoying a video watching my cock bandaged and soaked in blood on the verge of exploding, in those moments I was masturbating slowly, focusing on my penis; I had the impression that it was also at those times that my mother irritated me the most.
Then an idea occurred to me, I kept it in my head for a few days, hoping to get over it, but I didn't. So, I took my courage with both hands, one night when we were masturbating together:
“What we do here has become so common ...! I started.
What do you mean ?
Well, for many this would be a strange thing, but not for us, it has become almost normal!
Do you think this is strange?
I don't know, but I still like it!
For me too, my heart! "
The conversation ended there, my mother continued her caresses, but I, without saying what I wanted, resumed:
"I mean ... - my mother frowned, realizing that I wanted to say something to her and stopped touching to listen to me - I mean: for other people it is strange because they place so much importance on what masturbation is, but not us!
.. We do this, how could we do anything else! I see this as a massage, and you are not ashamed to massage yourself, right?
No, my mom agreed, you have to do a little bit of good in life, you told me that, and we don't do anything wrong to do at the same time, in my opinion! "
She smiled at me and the conversation dropped again, I had no choice but to try:
"But you have to know massage as well as I do," I said sheepishly, "it's even better when we receive it, instead of doing it ourselves ...!" "
My mother laughed:
"So this is where you were going ..., I have to think about it ...!"
She was silent then and I thought it was a futile effort, that I had gone and wanted to go too far. But after a minute of looking thoughtful, my mother said out loud:
"It is true that if you think of it as a mutual massage, there is really no harm in it ... but it has to stay as a massage then, understand?
We only use our hands and nothing more ...!
Okay for me ... I just had that in mind, anyway!
Of course ... she replied jokingly to make me blush. AND…. Do you want to do this now?
Why not ... and you?
I don't care ... how are we doing? "
I then suggested that we sit next to each other, in front of the television, where the film was still being shot. We modestly put some pillows between us, as if to establish a limit. To be honest, we were quite restless and shy, despite our envy. My mother was still in position when I put her hand in the basket: for the first time, I was able to touch her mound of Venus. She was a little surprised and let out a little "hoo!" And immediately she started to caress me in turn, as if she were late. The position was not perfect, but I did not ask for more, we would not have dared to put ourselves in another posture, it would seem very "sexual".
My hand was rubbing his groin, I could touch his hair and go down to the bottom of his wet slit. Gradually, I tried to go deeper: his lips parted each time my fingers roamed his vulva. Sometimes, I lingered on her clitoris. I had no idea if I was doing it right, not that it was my first time, but you never know immediately how a woman likes to be petted. Then, my hand slid down and two of my fingers entered it. I could feel his tender flesh and as it was wet, I hardened it even more. I came out of its hole, went up that slope of the sky and stroked its little button again, this time using it moist as a lubricant. We didn't make any noise, we didn't dare, we just swallowed our saliva or breathed when what the other was doing to us was too good to resist. That's what happened to my mother when my fingers dared to stab her, her cheeks turned a little red and I even saw him bite his lower lip, was she excited to be his fingers? your own son who was in it and who did you good? It happened to me, even though I didn’t dare to admit it at the time, when she moved her hand to the rhythm and came stroking tenderly the tip of my penis, with my thumb, in a circular gesture. .
I felt the inside of her vagina tighten in my fingers, I was desperately trying to find her G spot. She released my cock for a second, pushed it back into my stomach to better caress my shaft all the way, until I grab my bags . She let out a slight moan as she picked them up. I couldn't take it anymore and she knew it, so she started to masturbate even harder. I did the same with my fingers. I think we both would like to use both hands for this, but we had to settle for one. Both to the point of enjoying our killer caresses, we couldn't help but moan and especially to show our pleasure. It was too much for me, I couldn't handle it and so I came into my mother's hands. We still had no plans to limit the dirt, but we had nothing to do at the time: I ejaculated everything I had, my first jets went up to the ceiling, to fall on my legs or my shirt and the last shocks flowed into my hand. my mother. My mother followed me closely in her orgasm: maybe it was when she saw her son's joy that her body contracted and she squeezed my wrist with the other hand so that I remained there, in her and moved her hips mechanically, masturbating her if on my fingers.
After we both came, we stayed there, doing nothing, without saying a word, savoring our orgasm. But I had to move at one point or another and, above all, I had to clean myself up; mother too, her hand was dirty with my sperm. We didn't exchange a word after that and I wondered if it was because my mother was full of regrets or because she really thought, like me, that we hadn't done anything wrong and that then there was nothing to say .......
It became a little habit that we picked up: when there was nothing on TV at night, we sometimes offered to do a little pornography, as we would have offered a board game or a movie. Only our game, with mom, was much more fun. Each of us masturbated on his own, with even less embarrassment than the first time, without hesitating to take a look at what the other was doing and what conditions he was in. I could easily tell when my mom particularly liked a video of the speed of her hand on his penis, a hand she no longer hid, buried in her pants, no, now they were a little bit down, so I had a distant view of the tuft of my mother. She, she could easily say that I was enjoying a video watching my cock bandaged and soaked in blood on the verge of exploding, in those moments I was masturbating slowly, focusing on my penis; I had the impression that it was also at those times that my mother irritated me the most.
Then an idea occurred to me, I kept it in my head for a few days, hoping to get over it, but I didn't. So, I took my courage with both hands, one night when we were masturbating together:
“What we do here has become so common ...! I started.
What do you mean ?
Well, for many this would be a strange thing, but not for us, it has become almost normal!
Do you think this is strange?
I don't know, but I still like it!
For me too, my heart! "
The conversation ended there, my mother continued her caresses, but I, without saying what I wanted, resumed:
"I mean ... - my mother frowned, realizing that I wanted to say something to her and stopped touching to listen to me - I mean: for other people it is strange because they place so much importance on what masturbation is, but not us!
.. We do this, how could we do anything else! I see this as a massage, and you are not ashamed to massage yourself, right?
No, my mom agreed, you have to do a little bit of good in life, you told me that, and we don't do anything wrong to do at the same time, in my opinion! "
She smiled at me and the conversation dropped again, I had no choice but to try:
"But you have to know massage as well as I do," I said sheepishly, "it's even better when we receive it, instead of doing it ourselves ...!" "
My mother laughed:
"So this is where you were going ..., I have to think about it ...!"
She was silent then and I thought it was a futile effort, that I had gone and wanted to go too far. But after a minute of looking thoughtful, my mother said out loud:
"It is true that if you think of it as a mutual massage, there is really no harm in it ... but it has to stay as a massage then, understand?
We only use our hands and nothing more ...!
Okay for me ... I just had that in mind, anyway!
Of course ... she replied jokingly to make me blush. AND…. Do you want to do this now?
Why not ... and you?
I don't care ... how are we doing? "
I then suggested that we sit next to each other, in front of the television, where the film was still being shot. We modestly put some pillows between us, as if to establish a limit. To be honest, we were quite restless and shy, despite our envy. My mother was still in position when I put her hand in the basket: for the first time, I was able to touch her mound of Venus. She was a little surprised and let out a little "hoo!" And immediately she started to caress me in turn, as if she were late. The position was not perfect, but I did not ask for more, we would not have dared to put ourselves in another posture, it would seem very "sexual".
My hand was rubbing his groin, I could touch his hair and go down to the bottom of his wet slit. Gradually, I tried to go deeper: his lips parted each time my fingers roamed his vulva. Sometimes, I lingered on her clitoris. I had no idea if I was doing it right, not that it was my first time, but you never know immediately how a woman likes to be petted. Then, my hand slid down and two of my fingers entered it. I could feel his tender flesh and as it was wet, I hardened it even more. I came out of its hole, went up that slope of the sky and stroked its little button again, this time using it moist as a lubricant. We didn't make any noise, we didn't dare, we just swallowed our saliva or breathed when what the other was doing to us was too good to resist. That's what happened to my mother when my fingers dared to stab her, her cheeks turned a little red and I even saw him bite his lower lip, was she excited to be his fingers? your own son who was in it and who did you good? It happened to me, even though I didn’t dare to admit it at the time, when she moved her hand to the rhythm and came stroking tenderly the tip of my penis, with my thumb, in a circular gesture. .
I felt the inside of her vagina tighten in my fingers, I was desperately trying to find her G spot. She released my cock for a second, pushed it back into my stomach to better caress my shaft all the way, until I grab my bags . She let out a slight moan as she picked them up. I couldn't take it anymore and she knew it, so she started to masturbate even harder. I did the same with my fingers. I think we both would like to use both hands for this, but we had to settle for one. Both to the point of enjoying our killer caresses, we couldn't help but moan and especially to show our pleasure. It was too much for me, I couldn't handle it and so I came into my mother's hands. We still had no plans to limit the dirt, but we had nothing to do at the time: I ejaculated everything I had, my first jets went up to the ceiling, to fall on my legs or my shirt and the last shocks flowed into my hand. my mother. My mother followed me closely in her orgasm: maybe it was when she saw her son's joy that her body contracted and she squeezed my wrist with the other hand so that I remained there, in her and moved her hips mechanically, masturbating her if on my fingers.
After we both came, we stayed there, doing nothing, without saying a word, savoring our orgasm. But I had to move at one point or another and, above all, I had to clean myself up; mother too, her hand was dirty with my sperm. We didn't exchange a word after that and I wondered if it was because my mother was full of regrets or because she really thought, like me, that we hadn't done anything wrong and that then there was nothing to say .......
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