Archaeology Mom

Moving my finger back and forth, in and out, I started fucking my mother's tight sex.

Tilting her head forward, bringing her mouth to my ear, she ran her tongue on my pinna, blew on it, and my dick quivering whispered, "Go ahead, another finger stud."

I added a second finger to the first.

"It feels so good son. Oh god, do you think we're perverts? Forget all that cultural relativism bullshit, does it make it hotter knowing I'm your mother?"

"I wasn't going to admit to it, but yeah."

With a wicked smile my mother reached down, wrapped her fingers on my dick, and teasing me said, "So are you ready to put this big old thing inside Mommy? Mommy wants it, wants it real bad."

I continued pumping my fingers in her slit and she tilted me forward, whimpering in desire when she pressed my cockhead to her clit.

Lost in the sensations she closed her eyes. Slipping my fingers from her vagina I moved forward until, my forearms resting on the ground beside her head, my legs between hers, I was suspended over her.

I said, "Put it inside you."

She placed my dick on the opening of her sex and rotated her hips, getting the head wet me wet and sending lighting bolts of pleasure down my dick and up my spine, where they exploded in my mind as an apocalyptic fireworks display.

"Unnnhh, Mom that's amazing."

"I know some tricks."

She raised her hips and the head of my dick moved inside her; we both moaned.

"Remember son, you're big and it's been awhile."

"Don't worry Mom, we have all the time in the world."

I moved inside her, watching her face, monitoring her reactions; I knew when to stop, when she was ready for more.

And then I was all the way inside she moved her hand to the back of my head - she had strong rough hands - and brought my mouth to hers. We kissed, our tongues danced and celebrated, and I rotated my pelvis, ground our hips together, moved my dick around inside her. Grabbing the back of my head with both hands she pulled it into the nape of her neck, said, "Yes, just like that," and ground her hips into mine, letting out a short sweet yip each time my pubic bone rolled over her clit.

"Fuck me Brad, fuck me."

I fucked her the same way I'd finger-fucked her, inch by careful inch. Starting with short measured strokes, responding to the way she moved against me, I gradually increased their length until my entire cock moved within her. At the termination of each thrust I ground my body into her, catching her clitoris with my pubic bone. Ecstatically she pushed her hips into mine, increasing the pressure on her clitoris

Mom, hooking her arms underneath mine, grabbed my back, pulling herself into me, driving my cock deeper into her sex. Enthralled she wrapped her legs around my back, pushing me deeper still. I grabbed her wrists, pinning her hands to the ground above her head.

"I love your dick, fuck me, fuck your mother."

"Shit mom, so tight, so hot and tight."

"I'm... glad... you... like... my... cunt."

We found the perfect rhythm, fucked on and on. Listening to Mom's moans growing longer and louder, sharper and harder, part of me remained amazed. I was fucking my mother; she was totally into it. And then, body shuddering, jerking her arms hard enough to free them from my grip, she said, "I'm coming." Her sex spasmed on my cock, but we continued our synchronized sexual dance. Then, minutes later, she rocked back on her shoulders, jammed her sex into me, and growled, "Coming, oh fuck yes, oh fuck yes..."

My mother was multi-orgasmic.

Locking her legs on my ass, she pulled herself into me, drove me into her core. I tilted my hips forward, crushing her clit with a force that would have been painful when we'd started, but now slashed though her like a hurricane.

Wrapping her arms around my upper back, holding me to her, she rocked her hips. "Oh god yes Brad, just like that."

Her cunt was clutching contracting convulsing. I was struggling to wait for her, but it was a losing effort. My balls were churning, there was no going back.

And then she jibbered, "Oh fuck Brad, Brad, yes oh yes Brad, god oh yes," yelled, "Fuck, oh fuck yes," and the orgasm ripped through her. Despite being trapped under mine her body shook and shaked and all the pressure inside me let go. With a hard grunt I blasted cum inside her in one, two, three powerful spurts, then collapsed. My brain short-circuited, I lay there, I'm not sure how long. Temporary amnesia I guess. Then I heard Mon's voice in my ear.

"You can get off me now."

"Oh, sorry. How long was I out."

"Not long."

"That was amazing. You're amazing."

"Guys always say that after a good roll in the hay. Now hold me."

She rolled onto her side and laying an arm over her I said, "Mom, you've always been amazing."

* * * * *

I woke the next morning. Mom's head was on my shoulder, a finger softly running up and down my dick.

"Morning. How long you been up?"

"Long enough to get horny. You want to fix coffee, or would you prefer to...?"

I chose option two. She played with my dick a few minutes longer, took me in her mouth, then straddled me. Then she trapped my dick against my body and glided her sex up and down it, her splayed pussy lips spread in a camel toe.

I'd never done this before; this was great.

Occasionally she'd reached down, slip a hand under my dick, press it to her wet sex, increasing the already heavenly pressure on my cock. Occasionally she'd slide the palm of her hand over my cock-heard, gliding it on the cunt juice coating my dick. Occasionally she'd reached behind herself and fondle my balls. At times she'd cup her breast, squeeze, roll a thumb over her nipple, or reach down to finger her clit. But mostly, taking her time, she just slid up and down my throbbing cock. I reached for her clit once, but she said, "No son, I'm fine, I want to you to lie there and enjoy this," which I did as she, hands on my chest, continued sliding her cunt on my cock, her gently swaying body growing ever more erotic as her skin flushed, gasps deepened, eyes glazed over.

Then she slipped back a bit, gliding her open sex on the bottom half of my cock and balls as she frigged the top half and crown with her hands.

"I just want you to know that your Mommy is very horny, that she is going to want you to fuck her all the time."

She raised her hips and reaching between her legs took hold of my disk, slid it on her labia, twirled it on her vagina, before laying it back down on my body and again trapping it between her wet pubes as she rode its length.

Then she did it again, raise her hips, hold my cock to her sex, lay it back down on my body, slide her open cunt lips on it. Once, twice, three, four, five times. I lost count; I wanted to fuck this woman.

And finally she held my cock to her sex and leaning back, dragging her hand softly up my chest, letting her hanging breasts graze my skin, she sank back onto it, taking me inside her. She moved in an oval, raising her body off mine when she pushed herself onto my dick, lightly pressing her chest to mine when she moved forward. After awhile she sat straight up and her hands on my chest, eyes closed, she raised herself on her knees until only my cockhead was inside her, then moved down til her ass was pressed to my balls. As my cock-head repeatedly ran over her g-spot she shortened her motion, finally stopping with my crown pressed to her g-spot. She flexed the walls of sex, driving cockhead and g-spot into each other.

"Unh, unh, unh, unh, unh, unh, unh."

Eyes closed, head back, she rocked her hips, increasing the pressure of my dick on her g-spot. She was in her own world, doing all the work, her focus on her cunt and my dick. And while in some sense I was an observer, I was observing pure sexual need and hunger, the most carnal thing I'd ever seen.

Her breathing increased, became sharper, quicker, more audible. I reached down, pressed my open hand on her belly, pushing her g-spot against my dick. She began rocking into my hand.

The fingers of her hands, resting atop her thighs, curled and started digging into her flesh.

"Unh, unh, unh, unh, unh, unh, unh, unh, unh, unh."

Her body tightened, she shivered, and then with a moan, a long stark animal moan, she came. Emptying her lungs of air she moved her hands onto my chest, leaned forward, opened her eyes - they were dilated - and said, "God, did I just fricking come. It is okay if I jerk you off? I'm sore."

* * * * *

At first it was an indistinct background noise, but as we got closer to the road it grew recognizable. Cars, lots of cars, and moving, if at all, very slowly. We were in the middle of nowhere on a single lane dirt road. What was going on?

We drove the Jeep from its hiding place, looked left and right. There were cars in both directions as far as the eye could see, not moving, but heading for the site.

What the hell was going on?

Mom said, "I don't care who you have to run over, get me to the site."

Luckily our Jeep Wrangler could navigate the rutted landscape alongside the road and except for the poor policemen who tried to pull us over only to get an earful from Mom about archaeological treasures, made good time, pulling into the camp to Mom's, "What the fuck.

There were people all over the place. There were good-looking well-dressed people holding microphones standing in front of several media truck, antenna high in the air. There were cars parked randomly and people wandering without any seeming direction or purpose. Our crew, looking bewildered, was standing by their tents, as if protecting them. The team leaders, gesturing frantically, were talking to two men in suits. But Mom's focus was on the mound. Groups of people were tramping back and forth across it.

She was out of the Jeep before I stopped it. One of the men in suits stepped up and handing her a phone said, "Dr. Cyriack, the First Minister wishes to speak to you."

Mom was about to get her fifteen minutes of global fame.

With cameras trained on her, with the nation watching, Mom brought the phone to her mouth, said, "Can you hold a second please," and pointing to the mound said to the men in the suits, to her team leaders, and to anyone else within shouting distance, "Get those bloody fools off the frigging hill. They're contaminating the site."

As a man in a suit motioned to a police officer and pointed to the hill Mom, her voice calm and polite, said into the phone, "May I help you?"

"This is Nicola Sturgeon, First Minister. Is this Rachel Cyriack, Dr. Rachel Cyriack?"

"Yes ma'am."

Nodding to one of her aides, who was already calling for security to be assigned the project, she said, "I'm watching you on television. My staff will ensure there'll be a sufficient number of people there to secure the site. I was calling to congratulate you, and thank you. I'm told you recovered the remains of our earliest inhabitants, the original Scots, the mother and father of us all. It's an amazing discovery and as you can see has caught the public's imagination."

Deciding not to correct the First Minister's faulty science Mom said, "Thank you Minister, that's very kind of you. But its not just me, there's an entire crew to be credited for the discovery. I didn't realize there'd be this much interest."

"Word of your discovery swept the nation last night. We tried to contact you this morning, were told you weren't there yet. The people at the university said you left yesterday. We were about to start a search when a very frightened policeman phoned indicating there was a woman whose description matched yours driving down the shoulder of the road."

Smiling Mom said, "Yeah, that was me. My son and I camped out last night. We were looking for the site of the village that built this mound. I think we have some substantial leads."

* * * * *

The clip of Mom putting the First Minister on hold and yelling, "Get those bloody fools off the frigging hill," went viral. Mom was interviewed on the site; Mom was interviewed remotely. Mom appeared on The Today Show, on Japanese, Indian, Kenyan, Brazilian, and Chinese news shows. She took a call from the Prime Minister. But the First Minister was good to her word; the site was secured and cleared of visitors.

That night, back in our tent, looking a wee but harried, she sat down, opened her computer, and said, "My god, look at the inbox. I've never seen this many e-mails."

Standing behind her, rubbing her shoulders, I looked at her screen and said, "My Mom, the rock star. What can I do to help?"

"You can make love to me."

I thought about the non-fraternization policy, decided not to mention it. And then I did and we did, that night, and most every night thereafter.

* * * * *

It was August. New leadership, busy preparing it for the winter months, had taken over the dig. Mom and I were heading back to the United States, she as the new head of North Carolina's archaeology department, me to enroll as a freshman. But first we'd been invited to tea with the First Minister, followed by the de riguer photo opportunity. Mom, who'd put on a loose fitting peasant dress, turned to me and said, "What do you think? Does it have that archaeologist buzz."

I looked her over, I took every chance I could to look her over, kissed her lips, I took every chance to do that too, and said, "Yeah it does. You look so good in dirt I forget how good you look all dolled up. But still, you have that woman of the earth buzz going on."

Then touching her stomach she added, "It also helps hide the baby bump."

"Y'know people can count backwards from nine; they'll know it happened while we were here."

"Yeah, but only you, me, and our daughter will know who."

"Unless we have some more?"

"Yes, unless we have some more."