My Son, The Photographer Ch. 02

byqdata©

We sat side by side, propped up against the log. Andy gingerly passed the hot potatoes over to me and I cut them in half while he retrieved the second bottle of wine from the cooler and poured. The potatoes were perfect. Hard and burnt on the outside but soft and fluffy inside. We sprinkled a little salt and then layered the butter on thickly and forked the hot delicacy into our mouths, rapidly sucking in air to cool it, then washed it down with a sip of wine even as the butter dribbled down our chins.

We sat in our own little heaven, the cliff behind us, the fire softly crackling, glowing warmly against the chill of the night and our nakedness, the stars now twinkling brightly in the near-black sky, the moon bathing all in its pale gleam as the wisps of cloud slid silently past, the long lines of phosphorescence where the tiny wavelets broke on the sand and shattered shells with an almost inaudible sussuration. The rest of the world didn't exist for us, time itself stood still.

We threw the potato skins on the fire and watched the darker yellow flames flicker up briefly as the remnants of the butter burned away. Andy drained the wine bottle into our cups then complained jokingly that he had given me too much. He rectified this by taking a sip from my cup. "Mmmm, that was delicious. How can a simple potato taste so good, Mum." I smiled at his rhetorical question and sipped at my wine.

He took the cup from my hand and put it safely to one side then lay me on my back. He dipped his finger into his own wine and coated it on my lips, dipped again then pushed the finger into my mouth. I sucked on it as he gently simulated the sex act before removing it and spread more wine on my lips. He leant over me and kissed me softly, lips barely touching as the tip of his tongue traced over them, tasting the wine until it was carefully insinuated between my lips and our kiss became open-mouthed and passionate.

He broke off and announced he was still hungry. He reached for the butter, scooped some onto his finger and proceeded to spread it over my nipple and breast. Next he sprinkled a pinch of salt then started licking it all off, finishing with my nipple in his mouth, chewing on it as if trying to devour the now-engorged flesh. My other breast got the same treatment, leaving me gasping for breath as I hugged his head in tight. Eventually he pulled clear, spread my legs wide and coated my labia with butter, poking it deep into my hole with his finger. Several scoops were layered on and pushed in but he neglected the salt as his agile mouth and tongue got to work down there. He sucked and licked at my outer lips, lapping at the butter and my juices which were flowing again, even running his tongue from my anus all the way to my clitoris which was given a thorough cleansing before his tongue probed deep inside me, seeking the butter, penetrating, twisting, scooping in a frenzy which was driving me crazy.

"Andy, oh God, Andy, I need you in me." I called and was grateful to feel him climb up my body and position his rod at the entrance to my pussy.

"Put it in, get it in ..." he teased me by rubbing it all around my lips until I screamed out in frustration, "For God's sake fuck me!" and grunted as he granted my wish by sliding in right up to the hilt, the slickness of my secretions and the butter combined to aid instant penetration. Our pubic bones clashed almost painfully as we matched rhythms and thrust back at each other, Andy mashing my breasts in his hands as I wrapped my legs round him and pulled him in.

"I'm almost there, Mum," he gasped as he continued to plunge into me.

"Yes, Andy, yes, give me it, fill me ... oh yesssss," my final scream as the stars burst inside me and I was dimly aware of him moaning and straining to pump his seed deep into my womb. I clung onto him, holding him inside me for as long as possible until the blood eventually drained out and I felt him slip slowly from me. He slumped on top of me and covered my face with kisses as he whispered how much he loved me.

When he finally rolled off we hugged each other close then he chuckled, "Mmmm, you taste nicer than potatoes! But it's time to go - or we'll be trapped here all night by the tide."

We both got dressed but he refused to let me put my bra or pants on under the sweater and skirt. He scooped sand over the fire, making sure it was fully dead, while I gathered up the detritus from our meal and we strolled through the shallows to the steps and all the way back to the chalet with his hand round me under the sweater, feeling my breast.

~~oO~~

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