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Model MotherChapter 6 free porn video
It sounds simple, but it wasn’t. It was, in fact, quite complicated.
She let me inseminate her, but she also calculated the odds. I think she felt pretty sure nothing would happen because of it. Her periods were pretty regular and she knew her cycle well. That might be part of why she still insisted that only on Friday nights would we engage in fully incestuous behavior.
The thing about menstrual cycles, though, is that even if they’re regular, they don’t all operate on a 28 day time frame, which means that a Friday night two or three days from ovulation in one cycle, can turn into a Friday night when she is in the middle of ovulation in another cycle.
By the time that happened, we were seasoned lovers. I had no problem restricting sex to one night a week. This might be because we started masturbating together a lot more frequently than that. That started one night when I got home from school and found a meatloaf in the oven on low and a note that said she was taking a bath and instructed me to open a can of carrots and put some potatoes in the microwave.
Instead, I went to the bathroom, tapped on the door, and went in.
“What are you doing?” she asked, making no attempt to cover up.
“I just wanted to see you,” I said. “I love seeing you like this.”
“Poor, horny Bobby,” she teased.
So I undid my jeans and pushed them down and started beating off. She complained but I ignored her, telling her what I wished I was doing. Pretty soon the water was making waves as she rubbed with me. I grabbed a handful of toilet paper, but she told me to shoot in the water. When I did she scooped up the blobs and spread them on her breasts like it was some exotic body lotion.
The next night we were watching singers on The Voice and she started rubbing her clit under her robe. She kept glancing at me. Finally, I exposed myself and started doing it with her.
That led to more intentional types of exchanges, eventually ending up with us in bed, next to each other. One night she wanted to taste me when I came. I was only too glad to let her and she sucked me dry. So I sucked her clit in return.
After that there was a lot of mutual masturbation. It’s really cool to watch your lover get closer and closer to an orgasm, without your own mind being clouded by the race to reach your own. I loved watching her hips lurch and her face go all wonky as my fingers brought her to a climax.
But we both resisted fucking, unless it was a Friday night.
I don’t know why both of us ignored the fact that we were bucking the system, and that it couldn’t go on without somebody finding out. I know that sounds really silly, considering the fact that my entire fire science class knew about “her” and that she was my girlfriend. But they all knew her as Jennifer Hart. And think about it. Think about anybody you know at work, whose spouse or significant other you’ve seen somewhere. Maybe you’ve all been to the company Christmas party or something. What do you really know about that spouse or significant other?
Not a ton, most likely. So it’s actually possible, in fact, that the lovely couple you see with two adorable little tykes, grew up together because they are actually brother and sister. How would you know, if they haven’t said something about that? I guess you’d know if you also grew up with them, but if they moved away from home, two or three states away, so they could be in love together, it’s unlikely anyone who knew them would be there. And anybody can make up a story about ‘How did you two meet?’
It was different in our case, though, because in our case, the subterfuge was that Jennifer Hart, obviously a cougar, had taken up with one Robert Dean Jenkins. The problem was, a whole lot of people in town other than the fire science crowd knew her as Jennifer Jenkins. More than a few of those people knew I was her son. And one of those people was Maureen Gaskill.
That first night, when she and my mother wreaked havoc at Kelsey’s, she saw my mother in the crowd, being approached by lots of men. She saw me dancing with her, but nobody who suspected I was banging this gorgeous nude model said anything to Maureen about it. Why would they? Sure, they whispered among themselves, but they were a tight-knit group and she wasn’t part of the group. Not yet.
As far as Maureen Gaskill was concerned, I hadn’t known who the model would be and the model hadn’t known her son was going to be in art lab. It was a humorous situation, that both were handling pretty well. The fact that we went places together wasn’t odd, to Maureen.
The problem was that Phil, who was hopelessly smitten with her, got under her skin, too. It wasn’t just that he was an ardent and tireless lover. Well, that was a lot of it. She’d played the field with a vengeance after her divorce, never wanting for attention or companionship. But she just couldn’t trust or open up to the men she met. Nothing progressed past a few nights together, and many of those were uncomfortable for her. If she was at his place, she was helpless and dependent on him. If he was at her place, she had to get rid of him, sooner or later.
The only real plus, for her, was the incredibly powerful feelings she got from unsafe sex. She didn’t understand it. It hadn’t been that way with her ex. They’d been married three years when he screwed the pooch, so to speak, and their sex had already become routine. He was the vice president of a bank, and she was already the successful owner of a posh art gallery. They met there, in fact, when he attended an exhibition. She was busy with that, and he was busy being impressive and important. When she reasoned that being pregnant wouldn’t adversely affect operations at the gallery, she stopped taking her birth control pills. Even then, the sex seemed to be about doing a job, the job of impregnating her, rather than an enthusiastic expression of love between two people in an attempt to create life.
And then he cheated on her.
When she told my mom she was looking for a boy toy, she wasn’t lying. She’d decided to try that once, because dating men her own age wasn’t working out. She knew it was because of her own issues. There was (probably) nothing wrong with the men. She could probably get past those issues. But that would be work, work that could take years ... and therapy, perhaps ... and she just wanted to get her rocks off.
She’d always been good looking. She’d always had a talent for art. She’d done her own figure studies as a student. That was part of the problem with men her age. Most of them had let things go once they entered a career path. They were on the ladder, but not climbing fast enough for it to keep them fit. Seeing them naked didn’t generate any awe or appreciation in her artist’s eyes. She didn’t actually think about it that way. It just happened. Or didn’t happen, as it were.
Phil wasn’t what she expected. She hadn’t actually gone to Kelsey’s with the intent to take Phil home with her. She went to have fun, and because doing something like that might generate possibilities. Sitting at home would not. And she went because she thought Jennifer needed to get out and loosen up. She’d met my mother when she bought the building that would become her gallery. They’d known each other for years, but mostly on a professional level. They had drinks together, now and then, and worked out at the same gym. Maureen knew I existed, but hadn’t ever met me until I showed up at art lab. She noted the fact that I had the same last name as her model, but thought that was mere coincidence.
My mother’s concern about violating the rules was what outed me as her son to Maureen. The fee for posing was considerable, and my mom’s cash flow was always iffy. When Maureen suggested posing, it was because of my mother’s looks. It took some convincing – okay, a lot of convincing - but my mother was also bored and in need of something to shake things up. And it was harmless, right? After all she did have to sign an agreement not to have any kind of relationship with any of the students in the class. And that included giving any of them any information about how to find her after the class was finished. She didn’t want Maureen to find out some other way and sever their relationship. She hoped to do more posing in the future.
So she told Maureen about the extent of the coincidence, and that neither of us knew about it in advance.
Maureen couldn’t have cared less about the relationship. The agreements she had models sign were to avoid liability, should unhappy things develop. It was her idea, in fact, for Jennifer to ‘change her last name’ when they went to Kelsey’s ... to avoid embarrassment on my part. What young man would be both comfortable and happy with the fact that his mother took her clothes off in front of strangers? And how much grief would his friends give him if they found out about it?
Phil was bitten by the love bug early and often, that night. His attention to her was practically ridiculous. She thought he was cute. And then she danced a slow song with him and felt just how much she had affected him. All it took was a little push with her loins to find out that the rumor about his size might actually be true.
His cuteness, supplemented by her curiosity about what it might be like to be with a “big” man - she’d never had a man who was other than “average” in her opinion - was what led to her taking him home that night.
Phil was big. It happens. Proof is available because those guys get hired by the porn industry. In Phil’s case, when he was fully erect, from his balls to the tip of his circumcised penis measured eight and a half inches. The circumference was six and a quarter inches. That sounds like a lot, but it’s really only about double the circumference of a normal guy, like me. It was big enough, however, that it caused him problems in his dating life. He liked to brag about the number of women he’d balled, but he was lying about most of it. He’d gotten in exactly three women before Maureen Gaskill, and one of them had been a hooker.
It took Phil, in fact, fully five minutes to get his cock all the way into Maureen. When her body adapted, though, she was in nirvana. He was a novice, and putty in her hands. She molded him into exactly the lover she was looking for, as if he was a lump of clay. That he was clearly appreciative of the fact that a stellarly good looking woman even gave him the time of day, was clear.
It didn’t hurt that Phil was a good guy, in terms of his general moral stance. Like most of us, he chose fire science because he wanted to help people, to serve.
And he was clearly gaga over Maureen. It’s difficult for a woman to resist a man who’s crazy about her, if he doesn’t have a lot of flaws of his own.
So Phil got under her skin. She didn’t have the two or three night fling she originally fantasized about. She ended up in a somewhat strange, but strangely satisfying, relationship with a man sixteen years younger than herself.
And the sex was incredible. It wasn’t just that he filled her so completely. That alone was something she grew to crave. But every time that monster went off in her, and she felt the heat and strength of his seed fill her to overflowing, the concept that he might be overwhelming the defenses of one of her eggs brought on an orgasm that had nothing to do with physical stimulation of her sexual organ.
Of course later, in the clear light of day, the idea of a nineteen-year old boy actually impregnating her was less joyful, hence her decision to restrict his access when she was fully ripe.
But she couldn’t resist letting him “try” at other times.
All this I learned much later, but the importance of the telling is why I learned it.
Basically, Phil told his older lover that he thought it was pretty incredible that two of his class had stumbled into relationships where they got to have sex with hot, older women.
“Who’s the other one?” she asked, letting her fingers drift across the muscled chest that always made her pussy get wet when she saw him shirtless. That was the other thing that set Phil apart from men her own age. Phil was buff in the extreme. Her artist’s eye loved to gaze upon him.
“Bob, of course,” he said.
“Bob ... Jenkins?” she asked, her voice suddenly tense.
“Yeah. He’s banging Jennifer long, deep and continuous.” My friend grinned, bragging on my behalf.
“How do you know that? asked Maureen. “Did he say something?”
“No. He wouldn’t do that, just like I’d never say anything about you and me.”
“So how do you know?”
“You’ve seen them at Kelsey’s,” said Phil. “They dance close, and his hands kind of wander around on her back. And the way they look at each other is pretty obvious, too. Plus he never asks anybody else out. It’s obvious. You don’t see it? Everybody else does.”
Fawn
- 06.03.2022
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