Educating Mom-Andy's StoryChapter 7 free porn video

"Andy, wake up ... wake up!"

"Huh?" I said as I quickly came to, my mother's hand shaking my shoulder as she leaned over me, those huge pendulous tits swaying hypnotically before my eyes.

"We slept in. We're going to be late for church." She slid out of the bed, her body still clothed in that sexy black bustier I'd gotten for her. I watched her lush tits bob deliciously as she hurried into the en-suite bathroom, my morning hard-on twitching beneath the sheets. Her sexy voice came to me from the bathroom as I heard the water start to run. "You better hurry and go take a shower; we don't have a lot of time."

The intent of her words seemed to be that she expected me to go to the other bathroom and shower there; but things had changed between us and I wasn't going to pass up an opportunity like this. She needed to know the way things were going to be from now on.

"Oh dear," she said with a surprised look on her face as I stepped into the shower and closed the glass door behind me.

"I thought it would save even more time if we showered together," I said as I stepped up to her and wrapped my arms around her. She turned her face up to mine and I wasted no time in pulling her to me, my lips searching out hers. She moaned softly as we kissed, her arms circling my neck as I held her close, her soft heavy breasts pressing warmly against my midsection.

"Mmmm, that's nice," she purred as we finally parted, my swollen member pressing against her abdomen.

"Here," I said as I grabbed the bar of soap and lathered up my hands. "I think it's best if we help clean each other up." Once my hands were a frothy mess, I passed her the soap. My fingers immediately sought out those tremendous guns of hers, the pillowy flesh of her massive tits overflowing my slippery hands as I moved them all around those voluminous orbs.

"I think you might have a good idea there," my mother replied as she looked up at me kittenishly. As I continued to lather up her huge tits, she put the soap down and wrapped her foamy hands around my semi-hard cock. I felt it pulsate in her grasp as she gripped it lovingly and started to teasingly slide her hands back and forth. Immediately, I felt it start to swell under her stroking fingers.

"That's it, Mom, feel it getting nice and hard for you ... just the way you like it." I saw the look of desire on her face as she looked down at my hardening dick, the dark crown blossoming forward as her slippery hands pumped more and more blood into the stiffening tool. My cock wasn't the only thing that was hardening—her luscious red nipples felt like stiff thimbles under my taunting fingertips. I rolled the firm buds between my slippery thumbs and the middle finger of each hand, the rubbery pebbles coming alive in my hands.

"Mmmmmm, that feels so good," she moaned as I filled my soapy hands with her mammoth jugs, marveling at the tremendous weight of those soft pillows of flesh. Her eyes closed with pleasure as I worked on her tits, and I could see her fighting the rising feelings of pleasure emanating from her body. "Oh Andy, we shouldn't." Her feeble plea fell on deaf ears as I pulled her to me and kissed her deeply, our stroking hands never leaving each other's body. Our kiss was intense, my tongue rolling over hers in a tantalizing incestuous dance. My cock felt like an iron bar in her hands, and I had no intention of going to church without getting rid of the tempestuous load boiling inside me.

"Turn around," I said as I unwillingly pulled my mouth away from hers, both of gasping wantonly. I used my hands to spin her around. I pushed her forwards until she was leaning against the front wall of the shower, the steaming bullets of water pelting down upon us. I moved close in behind her, my surging erection sliding into the glistening crevice of her backside.

"Andy, we ... we can't," she said as she turned and looked at me over her shoulder, her voice quivering with alarm—but she wasn't moving away from me.

"Don't worry, Mom," I said as I soaped up my hands and slid them between her succulent round cheeks, the slick lather filling the beautiful warm valley. "I know we can't do that. But I've got something else I think you might like."

I stepped closer and leaned forwards, directing the engorged head of my swollen dick against her puckered little rosebud.

"Aaahhh," she hissed as the hot crimson crown rubbed teasingly over her tight pink hole. As much as I wanted to shove it deep into that delicious ass of hers, I knew in my heart I wanted to wait for that until after I'd filled that other enticing hole of hers—the steaming tunnel of slick pink flesh from which I'd first entered this world. I angled my hips up and slid forwards, my rigid shaft sliding up into her slick foamy crevice as the burgeoning cockhead rose to the small of her back.

"Mmmmmm," she purred as I pressed myself tight against her, the soft sultry skin of her backside fitting snugly around my throbbing member. I drew my hips back along the warm channel until the dripping tip once more teased at the puckered opening of her bum. I wrapped my arms around her and cupped those huge pendulous tits as I flexed forward once more, my pulsing love muscle pressing deep into the hot slippery crevice of her bum.

"Oh Andy, that ... that feels so good," she said as she leaned forwards against the shower wall in front of her as she rolled her wide matronly hips back against me. We got into a nice smooth rhythm as I made sweet incestuous love to that beautiful warm crevice of hers, the bubbly lather billowing out from her hot slick crack as my throbbing prick moved back and forth, the dripping crown oozing precum all over her lower back.

"Oh God ... oh God," she moaned as I rolled her stiff bullet-like nipples between my fingers. The hot water from the shower continued to rain down upon us, the steaming pellets of water feeling like miniature darts as they stung my skin, the misty steam filling the stall as I continued to plow along the trough of my mother's enticing heart-shaped ass.

I could feel myself getting closer, and I wanted to make sure we came together. Cupping one of those huge tits in one hand, I slid the other down the front of her body and slipped my soapy fingers between the pouty lips of her hot pink labia.

"Aaaaah ... yessssssss," she hissed as my fingertips rubbed teasingly over the hard throbbing button of her clit. She twitched under me as I took that erect spire and rolled it between my thumb and forefinger. As I felt her body quivering under my tormenting caress, I pressed my rock-hard dick firmly against her, sliding it rapidly back and forth along the full length of that slick sweltering valley.

"Oh Andy ... wha ... wha ... OHHHHHHHHH GODDDDDDDDD!" she moaned loudly as she started to come. I felt my balls drawing up close to my body as she started to convulse and shake in my grasp. I tweaked her clit and she groaned like an animal as I felt the boiling semen speed up the shaft of my throbbing cock.

"YESSSSSSSSS!" I groaned as the first shot of thick pearly cum jettisoned forth, the milky stream spewing forth powerfully to land in a viscous white streak, the long strand pearly semen stretching from the back of her head down onto her shoulder. A second and then a third shot spat forth, each long ropey strand landing high on her back.

"So goooooodddd," she moaned as she continued to shake and twitch beneath my stimulating fingers. I continued rocking my hips as I shivered through a nerve-jangling release, creamy cum coating my mother as I continued to flood her back with thick pearly semen. The last thrumming twinges ran through me, my hips slowing as the final drops of cum oozed forth to slither down from the wet red eye along the underside of my rigid shaft before clinging to the smooth skin of her lower back. I released her sensitive clit from between my fingers and slid my soapy hands back up her front, filling my hands once more with her spectacular tits.

"Oh Andy, that felt so good," she purred as she looked back at me over her shoulder, her eyes shining with blissful satisfaction.

"Did you like that, Mom?" I asked as I slowly slid my spent dick along the supple channel of her bum.

"I ... I did. I liked feeling you close to me like that, even if we weren't ... well, you know."

I knew she was talking about the fact that we couldn't have intercourse—at least in her mind at this point. I hoped to change that soon enough. "I liked it too. It's just another way we can show how much we mean to each other." I pulled her back towards me and she instinctively turned her head, offering me her lush pouty lips for an endearing kiss. I pressed my lips to hers, the warm satiny feel of her lips feeling exquisite as we kissed deeply.

"Andy," she gasped as she finally pulled her mouth back from mine, "we've really got to get ready or we're going to be late."

"Okay," I replied, letting her out of my grasp. We hurriedly finished showering, but not before I got to fill my hands with her heavy round tits a couple of more times. I returned to my old room and dressed in the navy suit I'd brought over, complimenting it with a Ralph Lauren yellow and navy striped tie. I had to admit; I looked pretty good once I was cleaned up and wearing something different. At least I wouldn't be an embarrassment to my mother in front of her church people. I didn't give a shit about them, but I wanted her to be happy.

I wondered what she was going to pick out from the clothes we'd bought her. Besides the provocative items that I really wanted to see her in, we'd also picked out some clothes that would be more suitable for her part-time job at the library, or to wear to church, which was the destination of choice today.

"Oh my gosh, I hope we're not going to be late," my mother said as she stepped into the room, her hands busy smoothing back her hair.

I turned and simply stared at her, once again mesmerized by how beautiful she could look wearing clothes that flattered and accentuated her voluptuous figure. Oh man, she looked fantastic.

She was wearing one of the new outfits we'd bought that we both agreed would be perfect for her to wear to work, church, or other similar venues. It was a little more conservative than the other things I'd already bought for her that I liked to see her in – but this looked just as amazing on her as those other outfits. It started with a high-collared sheer white blouse, adorned with cap sleeves and a series of vertical little ruffles running down over her sumptuous breasts. Beneath it I could see the outline of a white camisole and beneath that I could barely make out the lines of a heavily reinforced white lace bra I'd picked out for her. The blouse looked sweetly feminine in design, but the sheerness of the fabric hinted at the bountiful treasure lying beneath. It looked teasingly appropriate for church – but I knew many eyes would be drawn towards that huge thrusting chest of hers.

The business skirt we'd decided on was slim-fitting and ended just at the knees, with a taunting little slit at the hem in back. It was a rich-looking cream color the sales girl referred to as "bone", which seemed appropriate based on the twitch I felt in my crotch as I looked at her. The skirt deliciously formed to her wide matronly hips and lush heart-shaped rear. I loved the way the material smoothly hugged the curvy cheeks of that full round bum of hers. The price of that skirt had definitely been worth it. I felt like I could have stared at that beautiful ass all day—at least as long as I got to jerk off a couple times while doing it.

I almost licked my lips as my eyes feasted on her spectacular body and my gaze drifted downward from the nipped-in waistband of the skirt, over her broad fuckable hips, following the alluring lines of the trim skirt as they hugged her beautiful thighs and all the way to her full calves, tiny ankles and delicate feet. The shoes she was wearing were the same bone color as the skirt and looked fantastic with the whole outfit. They had a sensible heel about 3" high which gave her toned legs some sexily-enhanced definition without looking trampy. The shoes were mostly open with a couple of bands of soft creamy leather covering her toes and another piece cupping her ankle.

After my gaze had slowly scanned all the way down, my eyes seemed to be magnetically drawn slightly northward to her temptingly tanned calves. They were bare, but glistened alluringly.

"I put on some of that cream you got me for my legs. Do you think it looks okay?"

Man, did it ever! This was another thing that Jessica from The Cat's Pajamas had recommended. It was a cream that she said strippers used a lot—it made their legs glisten like they had oil on them, but it didn't feel greasy at all. It just left a smooth soft coating on the skin that had a wickedly alluring sheen to it. And looking at my mother's gorgeous sexy legs, I knew exactly why Jessica had suggested it – they looked incredible. It made you want to reach out and run your hands over the smooth supple skin, the tempting sheen almost calling out to your fingers like the sirens of Titan.

"Mom, it looks wonderful. Your legs look great," I gushed.

"Thanks, honey. But we really have to go or we'll be late." She pulled her lustrous hair back and slipped a mother-of-pearl clip over it; her drawn-back hair completing the look of the sexy librarian I'd expected to see with this outfit. Jesus, she looked fantastic, I wondered if I'd be able to keep my hands off her until we got back home.

She grabbed the purse we'd bought that matched the shoes and off we went, heading to her church a little faster than I was used to driving. We made it, but barely.

Going into my mother's church always made me smile—you've gotta love Las Vegas-style churches. From the outside it looked more like a shopping mall: lots of colorful metal siding, a big sign and beautifully landscaped walkways leading to the main entrance. Inside the place gleamed, but there seemed to be far more plastic and chrome than marble and weathered wood that you would expect in a place of worship. It always left me feeling warm and fuzzy to look up and see Jesus looking down at me from the cross, the little pieces of tissue waving from the air-conditioning vents on either side of him. Hey, this was Vegas, air-conditioning was front and center everywhere.

I'd been to this church many times—my parents insisted that I attended Sunday School as a little gaffer. So off I'd go, every Sunday morning, dressed in bow tie and short pants, learning the scriptures and revering The Lord who looked down at me from above—only he couldn't really wave because he was just some kind of statue – the tissue paper at the air vents did the waving for him.

My mother took my arm as we entered the church, with most of the chairs already occupied. Yes, chairs. There were no pews to speak of, just fold-down chairs like you'd see in a cinema. As we made our way forwards, I noticed nearly all eyes turned towards us. I wasn't surprised – knowing how my mother looked in what she was wearing, I would have been shocked not to see most of the males in the congregation straining their necks to get a better look. And look they did. I saw many men and even young boys staring in awe as we made our way towards the front, their eyes feasting on my mother's thrusting chest and round curvy bottom, beautifully displayed by her form-fitting skirt. But it was the gaping jaws and wide-eyed stares of the women that really made me smile. They all seemed to have the same look: unmitigated shock and overwhelming envy. They'd seen my mother many times before, but never looking like she did today. I could see it in the eyes of all the women there that they wished they could look half as good as she did.

My mother spotted a couple of seats about three rows from the front. We excused ourselves past a few people and edged into your chairs, my mother's pronounced heart-shaped ass drawing some hungry eyes as she side-stepped along the narrow aisle. As we greeted the people next to us and took our seats, I noticed a couple in the front row turn and look in our direction. Oh yes, the good old Palmers: Alice and Chuck, or Charles, as his wife always referred to him. I mention her name first, because "Queen Bee-otch" Palmer ruled that house, that's for sure.

Their son, Mike Palmer, had gone through school with Connor and me. Mike was a great guy—even considering who his mother was—and we hung out with him on a regular basis. His parents had pressured him into attending law school, and follow into his father's law practice. But unfortunately, their dreams for him took a quick left down the shitter once Mike got to college and realized that wasn't for him. Writing was Mike's passion. Like Connor, they had the artsy creative stuff, whereas I was the techie in the group. They were useless when it came to math, computers or anything related to technology. But I couldn't touch either of them when it came to creativity, imagination and prose. They could each write circles around me without breaking a sweat, but we formed good friendships, each of us appreciative of what the others could do.

So Mike withdrew from the law school train and told his parents he was switching to the arts, which went over like a fart in an elevator. Mike told me his father admitted that he was disappointed, but understood Mike's decision. His mother was a different story altogether – it was totally unacceptable for a son of hers to behave in this fashion and she'd have none of it. If Mike chose this "pathetic path" (as she described it), he better find himself somewhere else to live. His father intervened but she stood her ground, and as usual, she got her way while her husband meekly surrendered to her wishes.

We were floored – Mike was a pretty stand-up guy who never got into trouble or anything. I could safely say that this was as close as he'd ever come to an "act of rebellion", and yet, all he was doing was choosing what he really wanted out of life. His mother wouldn't budge, and Mike left town. After leaving, he kept in touch with Connor and me as he put himself through a small college in California.

A short time back, we'd seen Mike in town as we attended a funeral of an old high school buddy who had been killed in the war in Afghanistan. It was great to see him and catch up. He pulled me aside at one point and asked a favor. My inheritance had come through at this time and I was nicely set up in my penthouse. He asked if it was possible for me to put him up for a few weeks. He had written a novel and was in the process of editing his first draft. Money had become tight for him and he was on the verge of getting booted out of his apartment. I eagerly agreed, more than willing to help out a good friend.

So Mike had set up shop in my spare bedroom and his suggested "few weeks" turned into about five months. But I didn't mind, he was great to have around. He did the cleaning, cooked up a mean spaghetti sauce, and generally was no trouble at all. He completed the work on his novel, acquired an agent and sent it off. He was fortunate enough to have it picked up and through some connection his agent had, a movie company had contacted him about helping them with some screenplays. So off he went, back to California, but not before graciously thanking me for what I'd done for him.

As I saw Mike's mother looking back at me from the front row as we took our seat, I couldn't help but remember the things Mike had told me about her. He'd mentioned how active she was in the church, but it was all for appearance's sake. She talked a big game, but Mike said she didn't know her ass from a puckered starfish when it came to religion. Apparently she was adamant and forceful when it came to coercing others to donate funds for the many "causes" and "committees" she always seemed to end up chairing. But Mike told me she never – not once – donated any funds herself. He was disgusted by her, and told me that her throwing him out had been the best thing that had ever happened to him.

Mike had told me life with her had been no picnic whatsoever, let alone a Happy Meal at McDonalds. She'd treated Mike with the same churlish and intimidating attitude as she'd treated Chuck, her husband. She'd been the classic Ice Queen, making her husband's life a living hell. So I wasn't surprised to see Chuck Palmer's eyes open wide as he looked at my mother, his eyes zeroing in on her voluminous breasts. But Alice Palmer gave my mother a glacier-like stare, her cold eyes moving slowly over her gloriously-displayed curvy form. She then turned to me, shocked to see me I'm sure, a look of pure disdain in her eyes as she pressed her lips tightly together and curtly nodded in my direction. I smiled in return and gave her an acknowledging nod of my head before she turned around in her seat. I saw her give her husband an elbow in his ribs – he was still turned in his seat, his neck craning as he fought for a better look at my mother. The poke in the ribs had him turning and facing forward, like a reprimanded child. I'm sure "Charles" was due for a lecture on his behavior once they got home.

The minister came out a minute or two later and began the service. When he spoke and gestured to "Our Lord, Jesus Christ", I turned and looked at The Big Guy, sadly looking down at me from his cross. I noticed things had changed since I'd last been here, this was a different figure looking down at me from the last time I'd attended. This was a much more modern-looking Jesus, with what looked like a male model's four-day growth of trimmed facial hair, like George Michael. He was swathed in sleek looking robes, fashionably arranged around his pinioned body. But it was the cross that drew my attention – a gleaming stainless steel cross had replaced the old one made of laminated lumber – if you could call that old. This stainless steel cross was something to behold, a testament to our times, with Jesus fastened to the cross with hexagonal bolts instead of nails or stakes. I wondered what Jesus would have thought of the portable power drills that no doubt spiraled their way noisily through his flesh. As I looked at those pristine steel bolts and his alluring five-o'clock shadow, I thought all that was missing was an Elvis cape and sunglasses to make the look complete.

The service ran smoothly. I found myself distracted, busier watching all the people who were trying to surreptitiously ogle my mother while trying to go undetected. I don't think too many were successful in that endeavor. I especially noticed one teenage kid in the row in front of us who kept looking back and staring at her thrusting chest. I would have bet my condo that the kid was sporting a stiff dick inside that Sunday suit of his. I didn't blame him though. Here I was, her own son, thinking the same thing as him –how much I wanted to get my hands on that spectacular body of hers.

Finally, the service ended. We shook hands and well-wished our seated neighbors, then retired to one of the church meeting rooms with some of the select members of the congregation who assisted in the affairs of state ... or church, whatever. Having gone without breakfast, I was happy to grab a juice and one of the cookies they were providing for refreshments. Unfortunately there was no Dr. Pepper amongst the beverage selections.

"Andy, how nice to see you." I turned to see Mike's father, Chuck Palmer, standing with his hand extended.

"Mr. Palmer, nice to see you too." I shook the extended hand, but his shake seemed like he'd turned it to automatic, his eyes quickly turning to my mother who was standing next to me.

"And Cynthia, you look wonderful," he said as he kept pumping my hand while his eyes roamed up and down over my mother's alluring form.

"Thank you, Charles," my mother replied with a polite nod.

"Andrew, what a pleasant surprise to see you in church today." Mrs. Palmer's voice sounded like fingernails on a chalkboard. I felt an internal twinge and an unconscious grimace come over my face as she spoke to me. The distracted Mr. Palmer finally noticed that he was still shaking my hand, then awkwardly released it as he timidly stepped back next to his wife.

"Mrs. Palmer, the pleasure is all mine," I said with a little bow in her direction.

"Cynthia, is that a new outfit?" Mrs. Palmer was busy looking my mother up and down, from her sexy shoes and glistening legs all the way up her lush curvy body to her pretty face.

"Why yes, Andy helped me pick it out. Do you like it?" My mother gave a little bit of turn for side to side. I saw Mr. Palmer and a number of other people smiling in admiration, but Mrs. Palmer was not so easily impressed.

"Well, it's very distinctive, yes. I'm just wondering if The Lord would think it appropriate for church?"

Her words hit my mother like abrupt slap in the face. I decided it was time to step in and have a few words with this bitch.

"Mrs. Palmer," I said, "I have to admit that I strongly suggested this outfit to my mother." I paused and looked her up and down, my stomach turning at the ugly floral dress that hung on her body like a potato sack. It matched her harshly pulled back hair and lemon-sucking face though, I have to admit that. "She had spotted a dress very similar to yours, but I guess she felt sorry for me and succumbed to agreeing to my suggestion. So I should be the one apologizing, but I really think she looks quite nice, don't you Mrs. Newcomb?" I turned to one of the other church biddies who I'd noticed eavesdropping on our conversation.

"Well," the old bag said, her face turning red at having been caught out, "Yes, I think it looks very nice."

"And your dress, Mrs. Palmer," I continued, "it looks very distinctive as well. Not everybody can carry off that look the way you do." And nobody would want to, I thought to myself. I could see by the look on her face that she didn't know if I was fucking with her or not. She looked like she didn't seem to know if she should thank me, or be outraged. Since she thought my mother's clothing inappropriate for church, I decided to press on and see if her religious beliefs and knowledge of The Bible was as good as she thought it was.

"So how's Mike these days?" I asked. I knew that she had totally cut Mike off from any financial assistance.

"Michael is fine, Andrew. Thank you for asking," she replied curtly. She turned to my mother. "Cynthia, can we count on you for the next charity drive?"

"My mother and I have been discussing that," I interrupted. "We are looking at our charitable donations and may be considering some other organizations that are currently in greater need than your church. I assume you would respect that decision. I seem to remember Luke 22:36 stating 'He said to them, "But now let the one who has a moneybag take it, and likewise a knapsack. And let the one who has no sword sell his cloak to buy one."

"But ... but the church," she stammered, totally flustered by my interference.

"My mother has given graciously to this church, as you well know. I love and respect my mother more than you can imagine for what she has done for this church." I turned to my mother, who was watching the exchange between me and this puritanical mouthpiece with rapt attention. "What about you Mrs. Palmer? Have you given as generously as my mother? As I once read in Luke 12:1: 'Be on our guard against the yeast of the Pharisees, which is hypocrisy.'"

I looked at Mrs. Palmer who was standing there speechless, her lips set tight. I could see the steam all but coming out of her ears. "Charles, it's time to leave," she said as she took her husband's arm and turned away. She looked back over her shoulder at my mother. "Cynthia, I'll be calling to discuss the pledge drive." And with that last word, she hurriedly minced her way across the room and out the door, poor Charles tagging along in her wake of fury.

With Mrs. Palmer having disappeared like the Wicked Witch of the West, my mother and I looked at each other. I'd never seen her look happier.

"I don't think she knows what hit her," my mother said, a slow smile spreading over her pretty face.

"I guess all those Sunday school lessons paid off. I think I got all those references correct."

"Oh Andy, I love you so much for sticking up for me like that," she said to me quietly as she stepped up on her tip-toes and gave me a peck on the cheek before putting her lips next to my ear and whispering. "I'll thank you properly for that once we get home." Her provocative breathy words sent a surge right to my groin. I felt my dick twitch as a rush of blood flowed southwards.

"Then let's go," I said as I took her arm and turned towards the door. I suppressed my rising libido and walked calmly to the car, hoping my stiffening member wasn't tenting the front of my pants too badly. I held the door for my mother and ogled those glistening legs of hers as she teasingly drew in one sexy leg after the other. I started the car and headed for home, anxious to find out how she was going to 'thank me properly'. As I looked over at her, I couldn't wait. "Mom, your legs look beautiful with that cream on them. How about you hike your dress up a little bit and show me some more?"

"But Andy, won't people be able to see?" she asked as she looked out the car windows as we headed through traffic.